Secrets

How wonderful it must be to turn to your partner and ask "Want to have a baby?" or say "I think I'm ready for another baby! Are you?" And it happens. How splendid. How perfect! Or, gosh, to think, what if it wasn't even planned?! Like BAM! it just happened and everyone is thrilled! Yay, hooray! How exciting! How...romantic, even. There is nothing romantic about this journey. It's a bunch of hoping and failing...and shame and pain and frustration and secrets. 

When we decide to have a baby, there are dozens of people involved in the process. There is no late night intimacy or daytime spontaneity. (Well, I mean, there still is ::wink:: it just has nothing to do with baby-making.) It's not just charting out my ovulation and doing it. I first need to coordinate my personal wants with insurance companies, banks, secretaries, nurses, doctors - andrologists, embryologists, gynecologists, anesthesiologists, phlebotomists, pharmacists, lab techs, doctors' assistants, and even transport drivers. (I'm probably even forgetting a few specialists.) Literally, dozens of people are involved in the making of a Frick Baby.

Many people have asked me if I think it will be different this time around. If I will hurt less because I already have one child. I don't know how to answer that. I talked about it a bit at the end of the post - I Didn't Expect That. The volume level of the pain/stress of infertility was turned down while I was pregnant and for about the first 6 months after Eddie's birth. Eventually, I started hearing the negative thoughts begin to whisper in my ear again.
"You'll never be pregnant again."
"Enjoy the one you have."
"You'll never give him a sibling."
"You can't afford any more attempts."
"You can't handle any more attempts."
Today, those voices are loud and clear.

I want another baby. I want another baby badly and sometimes I feel selfish or greedy for it. Maybe even you're thinking it too. "Rachel, quit complaining. You got one. Be happy." Or maybe when I finally got pregnant last time you thought "Ugh, finally, maybe now she will stop her belly achin'!" (Heh, did you catch that small pun, belly achin' = pregnancy.) 

Sorry to disappoint, friends. Here we are again.

Many of you have offered your support. You've given me kind words of encouragement. Some of you have said you're happy I'm writing again. The thing is is I'm always writing, I'm just not posting. I have many drafts typed up. I write when I feel something strong. I don't post it because I think, "What's another infertility blog? There's literally thousands out there. Better ones. Why follow mine?"

I'm aware that not everyone that asks about us or that reads this cares. I get bombarded at work a lot. People point blank ask me in front of a group of people if we're trying again. I can't help but wonder if they ask other coworkers if they are planning on going home and having sexual intercourse with their sig others to try to make a baby too. It's hard to keep our attempts secret from people at work as I am usually written off sick.

Some of you may only be curious. It's strange to think that my suffering could be seen as a form of entertainment to some. While surfing Facebook one evening, "Hm, I'm bored. Nothing good here. Oh wait, look at that. Rachel posted another blog. Nice. That chick has got some major issues. Let's see what she's crying about today."

Then I think, I don't know, maybe you read this because you know me. Maybe you know others that have opened up about their struggles. When you hear about infertility or IVF/ICSI you can put a face to it now. 

(One face of infertility, mine. Waiting on a lounge chair that may or may not be specifically built to elevate the legs...to keep the embryos/sperm in with gravity? In my hands is an important red form (that I talk about a bit later) and also my "Customer Loyalty Card" (not really what it's called) for our fertility clinic. I don't even know what kind of information is on that. I assume details of our previous attempts. I'll ask next time.)

Or maybe if we go back a few chapters earlier, this whole mess started because of cancer. Chemotherapy killed Eddie's cancer, but also his sperm. Maybe you'll think twice about lighting up that next cig or not lathering up with some SPF 30 or higher sunscreen. Even the most treatable cancers can have lifelong effects.

Ok, let's rewind a bit.

So obviously, we're trying again. In my last post I mentioned "my one year old" and "my 13-month-old." And the very observant may even have noticed I was wearing boots and a scarf in the last pictures. Currently, I go to my appointments in a sundress with my almost 1.5 yr old. (It's easier to lift a dress/skirt than it is to drop trou...it's all about practicality these days.) So, not only are we back at it, we've been at it for a while.

I didn't tell anyone this time. Not even close friends and family. Don't take it personally that I didn't tell you or that I didn't write about it. My own mother didn't even know. I can still hear her complaining "Rachel! You need to tell me these things! I need to know when you're being put to sleep!" I dreamt of breaking the news to my family in America in person. We were planning a trip to the States in late May and I thought "How cool would it be to be picked up from the airport sporting a small baby bump?! To unveil it in my bikini on our family vacation?" I would love to see the look on my mom's, grandma's, aunt's, cousins', friends' faces in real life. My American friends and family never got the chance to see my big belly or feel the kicks.

Get this: I even kept it a secret from Eddie. Yea, you read that correctly. I wanted to completely catch him off guard. Like a normal person, maybe. After we do a treatment, he starts expecting something after about a week or so. Either a scream of excitement or despair from the bathroom. (It's usually the latter.) This time, I wanted to go at it solo. Hit him with the news that I'm pregnant completely out of nowhere.

Well, it didn't work.
The secret didn't work.
And the pregnancy attempt didn't work.

I was able to go to a few appointments and blood draws without him getting too suspicious of my absence. I coordinated things after my night shifts and told him I had to work a bit later. I told him I was meeting friends for lunch but drove an hour north to our fertility clinic. However, when it came down to the point where we both needed to sign the red form, I just couldn't bring myself to forge his signature. No matter how good my intentions were, I had to come clean. 

This attempt used up the last two of our frozen embryos. I was pretty sure they were two girls and I kept referring to them as such until it was obvious it hadn't worked. They were the last ones leftover from Eddie's batch.

(These girls waited over a year in a freezer for me, but just didn't make it.)

My grandma is convinced that I will meet all these babies one day. That I will be able to care for them in heaven. I don't know how to feel about that. They never attached to me but they were parts of us. They existed. Very briefly, but I have pictures of each one of our embryos to prove it. Sometimes, I dream of their little faces. Would they have looked like my son? Would they have looked like me? To picture Eddie and I chasing around a dozen (ok, not quite, but those two make #7 and #8) kids in heaven makes me smile...and perspire at the same time.

Germany vs. America

350.   If someone invites you out to a restaurant in Germany, that means that they are paying for your meal. "Ich lade dich ein." Literal translation - "I'm inviting you." Germans in America shouldn't make that assumption.

351.   People still iron in Germany. They wash, dry and immediately iron the clothes. I often see clothes hung out to dry here but in the States, not so much anymore. Sorry, Ed, but your fancier shirts get hung and gravity can work out the wrinkles until you're ready to wear them again. Also, I am not wasting my time ironing a basic T-Shirt. Call the Gestapo, I'm just not doing it. If something is still wrinkled when you go to wear it, by all means, iron it yourself. I refuse.

352.   Similarly, dryers are very intense here. When my clothes are in the middle of drying, I can't even touch them. Not just the metal buttons or zippers, but the fabric itself, that's how hot they get. I feel like my dryers in the US were never like that. Maybe that's why they hang dry them?

353.   Furthermore, it's commonplace to iron baby clothes. Apparently, it kills the germs. My mother-in-law was pretty surprised to learn my stance on ironing as she used to wash, boil, hang dry and iron her babies' cloth diapers. (Yes, hang dry them in the winter of Kazakhstan.)

354.   Speaking of winter, the cold is a HUGE issue over here. I mentioned socks in another "fact" of mine and not wearing a hat means you will get an ear infect but check this...not wearing socks will cause a bladder infection.

355.   Sitting on a cold surface...you guessed it...bladder infection! It's VERY frustrating to have studied the human body for years and to hear this "fact" come up ALL.THE.TIME! All the time. However, just as they could never convince me that sitting on cold concrete causes a bladder infection, I could never convince them otherwise. My coworkers believe this. Nurses! Doctors, people! European doctors pass this along. This is not a joke!

356.   Air conditioning causes illnesses here. ::eye roll:: Stop. STOP! 
Them - "It's true, Rachel. Whenever I go on vacation, I always get sick."
Me - "Yea? Because of the AC? Not because of the germs in the airports or the hundreds of people sharing recirculated air inside of a capsule for hours? Ok." ::thumbs up::

357.   God forbid a child drink a refrigerated drink or a drink with ice in it! (I don't even know what they think will happen if a child drinks a cold drink. I don't even think they know themselves what would happen if a child drinks a cold drink.) Spoiler alert: nothing. Been drinking cold drinks for 30+ years. Literally, everyone I know drank cold drinks as a child. All of them, still kickin' it. It literally has a 100% survival rate. 
Never once:
Teacher - "Class, little Timmy won't be joining us in school for a while."
Students - "Why? What happened?"
Teacher - "He drank refigerated juice!"
Students - ::gasp:: "The horror! The negligence!"

358.   Drafts are the worst thing imaginable for children. Every single time I am at any type of gathering with babies or children the mothers and grandmothers are always yelling at people to close the windows and the doors. "Es zieht! Mach die Türe zu! ES ZIEHT!" (Literal translation - "It's pulling. Close the doors. IT'S PULLING!") "There's a draft! Close the doors! THERE'S A DRAFT!") 

359.   I don't see many people wearing shorts here. If you prematurely wear a dress/shorts you will most likely get a comment from a German somewhere along the lines of "Du wünscht dir aber Sommer!" (Literal translation - "You're rather wishing for summer!") A.K.A. I find it slightly inappropriate that you're wearing such little clothing already.

It's Not What It Looks Like

As we pull into the parking garage at the fertility clinic, my pulse quickens. Eddie drives down to the lower parking level even though the green light clearly indicates there are parking spots available on this level. I question his decision and he replies, "Oh, sorry, habit." We haven't been here in about two years yet we're falling into old habits? That surprises and scares me at the same time. He backs into the ridiculously small, European parking spot and I feel a lump in my throat. Ed asks me how the spacing is on my side and I open my mouth to speak but, of the three words "it looks good," only "good" squeaks out. Shit. Did he notice? He will surely scold me if he notices me getting emotional already. I can't let him see that I'm having a reaction this soon in the game or he may call the whole thing off.

As I get out of the car, I hastily fan away the tears in my eyes and pack "Baby" Eddie into his stroller. Our family of 3 boards the elevator and I feel the all-too-familiar dizziness kick in. Why is it that EVERY TIME I step foot on and off of it, I feel light-headed? I'm convinced they siphon the oxygen out of this tiny elevator. It's either that or my body reacts physically to the stress associated with this building.

We enter the office and I give the place a once-over. Nothing has seemed to change except for some of the staff. They ask my name and I think "You don't know me now but you will soon." If this turns out anything like the last time(s), they'll soon recognize my face when I open the office door. I'm not even sure these women know what I look like when I smile as I leave about 75% of my appointments in tears.

It was strange walking those halls holding my son's hand. Just down the hall was where he was cryopreserved for months (frozen in sub-zero temps). He had the tendency to run (waddle) in that direction. I wondered if something in him remembered this place. How many times have these walls seen me cry? Walk with my head held low? This time, I was looking down, but into the eyes of my 13 month old son. Hallelujah!

The waiting room is different now. It's the exact same but it has a different feeling. My skin used to crawl as I waited here back in 2014. I waited with my eyes closed in fear of getting a glimpse of someone else's gravid stomach. Before, I never looked twice at the toys in the corner but now I am removing my one-year-old from his stroller to go play with them.

(Note: There may have been an egg mix up as my son looks NOTHING like me.)

As I entertain Eddie with a toy T-Rex, I see another couple round the corner into the waiting room...and I freeze. I have the gut feeling that I'm doing something wrong, something I shouldn't be doing. I abruptly sit up straight and the smile fades from my face. I swallow hard and begin to have an imaginary conversation in my head.

Dear fellow-woman-in-the-waiting-room-at-the-fertility-clinic,

I know what this may look like. We brought our son with us to our appointment today. If you're anything like the former me, you may be thinking "Look, lady, you already have a baby. Go home and give the rest of us a chance to get our first!" My son, much like his Daddy, is a charmer. He noticed you walk in and hasn't taken his eyes off of you since...(my son, that is). I wish I could whisper to him to be gentle with you. I tell him to wave "hi" but he doesn't. Maybe it's better that way. I don't know how deep your wounds are or how badly you're aching for a little one yourself. He finally flashes you a smile, complete with his new pearly, stubby teeth. You give him a genuine smile back and I relax a bit. Part of me wants to blurt out "IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!" I feel the urge to explain myself to you. I feel the need to confess that I wasn't always this happy! I am laughing and whispering things to my son now but if we could rewind 2 years you'd see me weeping on my bathroom tiled floor. You'd see that my arms weren't always full with a toddler, stroller, diaper bag, sippy cup, toys, etc. Instead you'd see me and my husband sitting exactly where you are now - alone, tired, exhausted, desperate, broken...bro-ken. I'm tempted to tell you not to give up - that it does work sometimes. If we make eye contact again, I may hold up 4 fingers and point to my son. I'll mouth "he was our fourth try." But none of that happens. No words are spoken at all. Our name is called first to go back and see the doctor and I feel the need to apologize that, yet again, it was our turn before yours.

(It's been a while since my Psychology 101 course, is this some twisted form of projection?)

I gather up Eddie and jokingly tell him "Let's go meet your earthly creator!" Our doctor greets us at her office door and tells us how nice it is to see us with a baby. We talk about the specifics of our next attempt and a bit about our last one. I find it strange that she keeps referring to our last attempt, the successful one, the one that made us parents, as "the blastocyst." 

"Blastocyst: A thin-walled hollow structure in early embryonic development that contains a cluster of cells called the inner cell mass from which the embryo arises. The outer layer of cells gives rise to the placenta and other supporting tissues needed for fetal development within the uterus while the inner cell mass cells gives rise to the tissues of the body. -MedicineNet

In my head, I laugh thinking "Yea, 'the blastocyst' you keep referencing is trying to gnaw on the corner of your desk right now."

I watched her flip through our chart and briefly saw the picture of "the blastocyst." I wanted to snatch it from the pile and show it to my son and say "Looky here! You were 5 days old here!" but I held myself back.

We left the office and gathered our coats from the waiting room. I looked at the couple still seated and contemplated wishing them luck. On second thought, she may already be pregnant. For all I know, she could have 3 little ones at home and is finally enjoying some peace and quiet. After all, maybe it's not what it looks like.

America vs. Germany

340.   It is considered bad luck to wish someone a happy birthday before their actual birthday. Similarly, if you are going to have a party, it must be in the days after your birthday. Never before.

341.   They do not have wedding showers or baby showers here. Probably because celebrating anything before the actual event date brings bad luck?

342.    You still have to weigh many fruit/vegetable produce before proceeding to the check-out. Whereas, in America, they weigh it for you at the register.

343.   Sometimes after a guest speaker gives a presentation or a speech, the crowd or the students will knock on the desk/table in front of them to show their appreciation instead of clapping. That was strange the first time I witnessed that.

344.   In nursing school and throughout my career as a nurse, we were always taught to clean a newborns eyes from the corner of the eye and outward. Apparently, once you cross the Prime Meridian, it's the opposite. They clean babies' eyes from the outside inward toward the tear duct.

345.   The cops don't sit on the side of the roads as much here. You're more likely to see a speeding camera than a cruiser hiding.

346.   Companies are no longer allowed to give plastic bags out for free. You must now pay for them in an attempt to reduce the plastic pollution. Makes me think of this in the US -

 

347.   When getting on and off an elevator, you greet the others taking a ride with you.

348.   I may have mentioned this one before but the "Close Door" button on elevators actually works in Europe.

349.   Since having a baby I learned that animals make different sounds over here too.

Frog - "ribbit ribbit" - "qvuark qvuark"

Duck - "quack quack" - "nack nack nack nack"

Rooster - "cock-a-doodle-do" - "kickeree kee"

Dog - "bow wow" - "vow vow"

Donkey - "hee haw" - "ee aw"

Horses don't say neigh...they don't really say anything.

I Didn't Expect That

It's been a while since I wrote anything...exactly one year to date. Turns out, I've been a bit busy raising a little human for the past 365 days. So far, so good! I've only accidentally hurt him a few times. There was the fan incident, the time I was eating a sandwich and offered him a bite, oh and let the record show, he has fallen off the bed under my watch.

Honestly, I don't even know where to start with this one.

With my last post I kinda, sorta, accidentally wished him out a bit early...about a month earlier than expected. Oops. My water broke in the middle of the night and 16 hours later, he was there! He spent about 9 days in the NICU. I have a new respect for the parents of my patients.



All-in-all my birthing experience was great. I'm thankful for that because I know it can go awry all too often. I'm going to try to keep this as real as possible without getting too gross. There are a few things from being a new mom that I didn't expect.

I didn't expect SO much amniotic fluid/"water." 

I didn't expect 16 hours of pain to feel like it flew by.





I didn't expect so much pain when I peed...I actually had to breathe through it like contractions. Sorry! No more birthing details but first-time mothers need warned!

I didn't expect to feel so lonely after all was said and done. It was late the night of his birth. I had no roommate, Eddie had gone home for the night, and they had taken Baby Eddie to the Neonatal ICU. My room was empty, my belly was empty, and crib next to me was empty. For 9 months I hadn't been alone-alone. I swear I felt him kick that night and the next morning...probably just my organs going back to their original places...but weird.




I didn't expect to cry when he cried. He had to be stuck multiple times for blood draws and for IV fluids. During one of his last blood draws they needed a venous sample and as I held him and tried to calm him tears began to well up in my eyes. I was one of "those moms." I think I'll blame it on the hormones. I'm tougher than that!



I didn't expect to cry so much because of breastfeeding. Way too much at first changed to worry if he was getting anything at all. Oh, the uncertainties! 



I didn't expect to feel slightly panicky when he's not with me. I know my mother-in-law likes to be alone with him. I can also tell when she's trying to shoo me away. It usually has to do with his feeding schedule and I hate the thought of him needing me and me not being there. Although, it has gotten better as the months have passed.

Similarly, I didn't expect to feel Mama Bear anger so soon. When Eddie was just a few weeks old, we went to a friend's birthday party. Eddie was in his stroller a few feet away from me while I was dancing on the dance floor. His stroller was next to our table where a few of our friends were still sitting. One of our guy friends said he would keep and eye on the baby and let me know when he starts to wake up. I kept turning around to check on him and to make sure he was still sleeping. I knew he would wake up hungry soon. Each time I turned around the guy told me everything was fine and to go back to dancing. Until the one time I came to peek in his stroller and the man placed his two fingers on my bottom lip and pushed me back from the stroller ...  I don't recall ever wanting to punch a grown man in the face so badly in my life. Rage filled my body. I actually felt my face flush. And strangely enough, there was no doubt in my mind that I could knock him out with one punch too. The anger made me so confident that I could go fisticuffs with a man twice my size. Luckily, I was able to get it together and I simply told him he was annoying me (in not so nice Russian words). I pushed the stroller outside to cool off a bit. Word to the wise, never push a mom away from her baby. Don't. Do. It.

I didn't expect to co-sleep. Eddie has a baybed right next to ours, yet we both sleep a little more soundly right next to each other. Despite me preaching about safe sleep and SIDS prevention at work.



I didn't expect such bizarre advice. It's common knowledge that everyone likes to give advice to new parents but some of them were just plain STRANGE!
-Put a hat on him or he will get an ear infection.
-Don't put his ears in the bath water or he will get an ear infection.
-Should he get said ear infection, squirt breast milk in his ears.
-Also squirt breast milk in his belly button and eyes.
-If he hasn't pooped for a while, put a piece of soap in his butt.
-Watch out! He head is lower than his feet.
-Give him water when he has the hiccups.
-Shave his head at 1 year old to get the hair to grow in faster.
-Put fish oil on his stork bite to get it to go away.
-His hands are cold, he is cold.
-His feet are cold, he is cold.
-Isn't he cold?
-You're not going to put a snow suit on him?
-Isn't he cold?
-Put vodka/whiskey on his gums when he teeth start to come in.
-Are you SURE he isn't cold?
-Everything is the "number one choker!" Grapes...number one choker. Hotdogs...number one choker. Bread...number one choker.
-The best thing to clean a baby's bottom with during a diaper change...olive oil. (Croatian roots)
-If you don't satisfy your pregnancy cravings, the baby will be born with a birthmark in the shape of that food. (Irish roots)
-Use a urine compress on sore muscles.

I didn't expect for Teddy, our dog, to be downgraded so abruptly. I realize now he is "just" a dog. I will still refer to him as my son but it's so clearly not even comparable. 



I didn't expect my baby to look nothing like me. I carried him all those months, dreamed of him and pushed him out (intense work, BTW)...all to see zero similarities. Nope, none. I search daily. Sometimes when he smiles, maybe then, but nah, looks just like his dad. Luckily, I think his dad is good looking too.



I didn't expect my body to ache so much. My back hurts (must be because I no longer have the ab muscles I once did). My wrist hurts from carrying him and so many bags. After carrying around a car seat for 1 year, I'm pretty confident I could win an arm wrestling match in a biker bar. Have you felt those things? Is there no better system?

I didn't expect the urge to squeeze, pinch, and bite him to be so strong. I love him so much and think he is so adorable that I have to be careful not to hug him too hard. To quote my best friend Sam, I feel like Elvira from "Tiny Toons." It's crazy to me that, in all my years of working with babies, I've never heard of a baby coming in because the parents squeezed them too much or bit their cheek or sucked in all their hair through their nose. Ok, that last one was a bit weird but the URGE...ugh! Indescribable. 

I didn't expect to sympathize with other parents so strongly. I recently apologized to an old friend for not helping out more when her baby was born. I could have offered to babysit more often or just come over with pizza. I just didn't know. I didn't "get it" then, please forgive me.

I sympathize with complete strangers. Whenever I hear a story involving a child I always think of the parents. A missing child. (The worst! Can't fathom it. Stop.) I think about the mom. Like, what kind of meds is she on to function? If Eddie went missing, I wonder if I could request to be put into a medically induced coma. "Hi, yea, um, I'm going to need heavily sedated. Wake me up when he comes back alive. K, thanks." You'd live your whole life thinking "what if?"

The refugee stories/pictures...no, I can't process that. How blessed am I to have food for my baby? Warm water to bathe him in? Heat? Clean clothes? How would you feel as a mother if you, for some reason or another, couldn't provide? That must be torturous! I never thought about that before I had Eddie, or at least not with such feelings.

I didn't expect to work differently. I've been back to work for a few months now. As a Neonatal ICU nurse in my hospital we have to go to every C-Section and every "high risk" birth. Whenever I attend a birth, I start to get emotional. I think about the parents and how, at this very moment, their lives are about to change. SO much. I think back to my birthing experience and what those hours and minutes meant and felt like to me. I used to look right through the mother. It sounds cold but my patient is the baby and the moms are kind of in the way of me and my patient. Now, when I come into the room, I try to make eye contact with her and give her a reassuring smile from a distance. How scary it must be during the birth for multiple people to barge into the room. We usually stay off to the side in the room but in case we have to get actively involved in the retrieval of the baby I am more encouraging now. I remember during my birth that I just wanted someone to look at me and tell me if I was making progress - that everything was going to be ok.

I didn't expect to be brought to tears from child abuse stories or, thanks Facebook, videos! I stumbled across a video that showed a mother...I can't and won't describe what I saw but it was sickening...and the air was taken from my lungs. Eddie looked at me and asked what was wrong because the color had drained from my face. The tears started streaming uncontrollably from my eyes. Why would she do that? How could she do that? The baby was looking to her for help! Eddie had to hug me until I calmed down. After that, I made him promise me that we'd never call the police, should we find out someone hurt our child like that. I will personally, slowly murder that person and sit contently in a jail cell for a decade (banking on - plea deal, clean record, act of passion, good behavior).


I didn't expect to be so sad to say goodbye to his birth year. 2015 was so good to us. From 2011-2014, my brain was fried with the process of conceiving. God finally blessed us with a pregnancy and healthy baby. I have been focused on that baby ever since. It's not easy raising a baby but the stress has a wonderful purpose. I was at the end of my rope with our 4th try and it was so nice to have "a break." Yes, I'm telling you, a newborn was a break for me from the pains of infertility. For 3 years, I was plagued with negative voices in my head about ever conceiving.

The scary thing is, I'm starting to hear those old familiar voices again. They're whispers now but they're growing louder...I didn't expect to hear them so soon.



*As always, pictures courtesy of Johann Frick at JFPhotography. Thanks Hannes for capturing these memorable moments.

So Close

The birth of our son is so close I can smell him! No, literally, all his clothes are washed and folded. I can't smell his baby smell but I can smell the scent of the German sensitive laundry detergent I proudly purchased. It's heavenly. I can't wait for that smell to mix with his milk breath and his tufts of hair (and let's face it, some gas too). I'm 35 + weeks right now. The car seat is installed, I'm registered at the hospital and my hospital back is (semi) packed.

So why, oh why, can I not relax about losing him?

He's so close but I'm so aware that he's still not a guarantee to us. Eddie and I have been working a lot on home repairs and getting the nursery ready and I noticed that sometimes I forget to pay attention to his movements. It's then that I decide to take a break and sit on the couch to focus. Eventually, I feel him move and I thank the good Lord above. I scorn myself for being momentarily so absentminded. Why are these thoughts in my head? Why can I not simply enjoy the remaining weeks? Sometimes I think "Ok, he's made it past 35 weeks, he could easily dodge a stay in the NICU if he were to come out now. Let him just come out now while everything is still ok."

Satan isn't welcome in my head. It must be my job that has my worried mind spinning. Not until he's is pink (ok - I'll accept some acrocyanosis) and in my arms will my mind relax (haha, yea right). Let me tell you all something about the women and infant units in the hospitals. When a woman comes in to the hospital with the complaint of not feeling the baby move for a while, our pulse quickens. When an IUFD (intrauterine fetal demise) is confirmed the entire staff aches. As NICU nurses, we don't come in contact with the families much but I assure you, when we hear the news, we hurt too. Sometimes we are asked to be ready, in case the baby shows signs of life, but other than that, we are somewhat removed from the situation. Some families are prepared, due to chromosome anomalies, some are blindsided. It makes me physically ill to imagine the scene of the nurses not being able to find the baby's heartbeat. As a nurse, I bet my face would flush as I searched and searched while simultaneously trying to keep the parents calm and call the docs. Why are these scenes in my head?

We took a tour of our birthing center at the hospital. I need you all to fully understand my mental situation so I will paint the scene for ya. Imagine a good dozen or so other expectant couples wandering around the corridors - in and out of the different rooms, checking out the birthing bathtubs (ok, no!), drumming their fingers on the yoga balls (ew, don't touch that), feeling the sheets/beds/pillows, etc. "Where is Rachel?" you wonder? Oh, there she is! She's off to the side testing the suction equipment next to the radiant warmer. "Ya'll go on ahead and check out that rope to pull on and that bar to bare down with...I'm just going to sort through this drawer real quick and make sure they have an endotracheal tube in each size!" 
"Excuse me, Ma'am, can I help you find something?"
"Nope, thanks. Just testing this laryngoscope lightbulb right quick. Oh, actually yes, where do you keep your meconium aspirator attachment pieces?"
During the question and answer part of the evening, couples raised their hands one by one and asked about parking and visitors. I elbowed Eddie until he reluctantly raised his hand as asked "Is there an attending pediatrician 24 hours available?" Be it genetics or hormones, my worries are on another level.

It must be my job...or it's your story. - yes, yours, or you and your wife's. The story of all my friends that have lost their babies. These babies aren't IUFD's but rather stillbirths or "babies born sleeping." I was eagerly anticipating your baby's birth too. I was devastated when I heard the news...if I felt broken, how on earth did you guys deal? I think about you guys a lot, but especially now at the tail end of this journey. I remember all your stories and your angels. I have your babies' birthdays marked on my calendar because that one day belongs to them. I loved that you shared the stories and pictures with me too. I feel privileged to have "met" your angels. "Is she talking about me?" Yes, YOURS. I'll never forget them. It's unfair and I don't know how a family copes.

This baby in my belly is the most valuable thing I've ever "owned" and to imagine him being taken from me when we're so close to the finish line makes my stomach churn. The worst part is, many times, there's no explanation for the loss. How do you close the door to the nursery? What do you do with all the freshly washed clothes? How do you explain it to the expecting grandparents...or worse, the siblings? The strength those families have is admirable. I could easily go insane thinking about the destruction such an event causes.

I guess the only thing that helps is the support from others. Just writing this blog made me tear up - the mere thought of the possibility! As Eddie passed by the computer room he asked what was wrong. At first, I tried to play it off like I wasn't crying but he saw my glossy eyes and persisted. I broke down more and he comforted me and assured me that everything is and will be fine with our son. He hugged me and we talked for a good hour or so about the topic until I finally calmed down a bit. I'm so lucky to have his support. He is so patient with me when my mind goes off on wild tangents.

I know you're all probably thinking - "Rachel, don't think about such things!" I know, I shouldn't but I can't help it! That's the problem. This leg of the race is almost over and he can come at any moment. I can see the finish line. I only pray we cross it as a family of three. Pregnancy is a gift, not a guarantee. 

(All photos in this blog courtesy of JF Photography)

America vs. Germany

330.   In the 2005 movie, “Thank You for Smoking” I like the quote in which a character simply states that “These days, when someone smokes in the movies, they're either a psychopath...or a European.” It's true! I know so many more smokers over here!

331.   Outside of Eddie’s favorite grocery store there is something called the "Bockwurst" snack stand. It used to be 1 Euro for a wurst and bread but I think it's more like 1.20 now. Sometimes I take a bite, but in general, it’s not for me. Rarely does Eddie NOT reward himself with one after grocery shopping.

332.   If it’s Sunday and you need a grocery item…you better hope that they sell it at the one gas station in about 15 miles that’s open!

333.   The popular German phrase “Farfignewgan” correctly spelled “Fahrvergnügen” means “driving enjoyment” and was a slogan for Volkswagon in the early 1990’s. You’re welcome.

334.   Yes, Germany has four seasons and they occur at the same time as ours. I often joke and say why couldn’t I have met someone closer to the equator.

335.   If you are pulling a trailer with your car in Germany you are required to put mirror extensions on your side review mirrors to see out and around the back of the trailer. I’ve never seen those used in America. It looks funny but I bet it's practical.

336.   Ed has never been to the Oktoberfest. This is mind-boggling to some but one must remember how touristy it is. I like to compare and ask “Have you ever been to MardiGras?…No?!!? ::gasp!::” We’ll make it to Oktoberfest some day. I just need a real dirndl instead of my cheap halloween costume from 2007.

337.   As you recall, Germans love compounds words. Their animal names always crack me up ( so do movie titles). I already told you about:
Faultier = "Lazy animal" = Sloth and
Stinktier = "Stink animal"  = Skunk
Well how about Schildkröte - literal translation “shield toad” = Turtle
Gürteltier – belt animal = armadillo

This diagram should help, I know it got me out of a couple jams:



338.   Turtle is a fun word to say in Russian too - “cherripaha.”

My favorite word in Spanish is peanuts - “los cacahuates.”

339.   I've really grown to learn the seasons of many fruits and veggies. I feel like, as a spoiled American kid, I took for granted the availability of all fruits and vegetables year round in our stores. For example, I never really knew when plum season was. I visited once in the fall and ate so many forms of plums it started to make me sick. They were in everything because they were “in season.” Germans flip their shit when it's asparagus season too! There are restaurant signs every advertising "Spargel mit Schinken" or "Asparagus with ham!"

Me + My Son = One

So, as I revealed in my last blog, it's a boy. We're over the moon with joy but, I have to admit, I am a bit nervous. First of all, if anything blonde comes out of me, I think I'll be creeped out and I may ask for a maternity test. In my head, I always pictured a faceless, long haired, brunette, little girl. These days, I have no idea what to imagine.

(Well, the 3D pics at 31+5 weeks help a bit...)

I have enjoyed my pregnancy very much thus far. I puked daily until exactly 19 weeks but I didn't really mind. It was weird because it eventually became normal. "Ed, are you ready to go? Ok, let me just grab my purse, puke real quick and then we'll get going." I would only be reminded of how unusual it is to vomit when I would go out in public. I would start dry heaving in the refrigerated section of the grocery store and get some pretty weird stares. Turns out, it is impossible for me to gag quietly. I would be getting ready in the bedroom and Eddie would scream from the living room "are you gagging again in there?!?" "Yes! ::blrh:: Sorry! ::blraaah!:: Can't stop!" After an evening shift at work, I puked in the parking garage. I wanted to yell to any passers-by that I was, in fact, pregnant, and not a drunk homeless woman! I had a favorite place at work where I would hide until I could get my gagging under control. Eddie learned that when I said "I think I'm going to throw up" that we had about a 15 second window before I was doubled over. I learned early on to always have one of Teddy's poop bags within arms reach in the car. I had to pull over on multiple occasions on the way to work to puke in the morning. Sometimes there was no time to pull over and I would have to hold the spit up in my mouth until it was safe (yummy, I know). Every time I talked to my mother, she would ask how I was feeling and I would explain about the continued daily vomiting and her response was always "good!" As long as I was puking, it meant my hormones were going nuts and the baby was growing. These days, I know he is doing just fine because I can feel his little jabs...no, strike that, jujitsu chops and kicks! As startling as they can be, it still beats puking.

I appreciate all of your love and support. I really feel it. However, I have to be honest and say that there are moments where I am shocked by people's indifference. I understand not everyone shares the same excitement over this baby in my belly as I do but I'm talking about close friends and family members. Some people are simply disinterested. Ok, fine, don't worry about me, I get it. I'm just a carrying case for this little boy but are you not at all curious what the baby in my belly is doing? Ok, maybe not the specifics of WHAT he is doing, I'd be satisfied if some people just asked HOW he was doing. You can't make people care.

Sometimes while we're watching TV, the baby will start kicking. So much so that I can't focus on anything else but his movements. I know there will come a time when those kicks will keep me awake at night or give me sharp pains in the ribs but, for the time being, they're still magical to me. Every jab, kick, or roll makes me smile...so when I ask Eddie for his hand to place it on my belly and he nonchalantly declines, I am momentarily shocked. He loves his son, there's no doubt about that, but again, the fact that others don't share my enthusiasm is surprising.

This simply teaches me that no matter what...NO MATTER WHAT...it's me and this baby boy from here on out. Family members can occasionally ask/visit. Heck, Eddie could up and leave us (he would NEVER...but he could if he wanted), but when it comes to this little baby boy...we are one. This became clear to me from the beginning. While I realized that I was physically never going to be alone for at least 9 months, the pregnancy symptoms were only happening to me. At first, I felt so tired and so run-down. Eddie would laugh at me when, two hours after we woke up, I was ready for a nap again. Usually, if I was that sleepy it was because I had worked a night shift or we had stayed up late the night before. Others would be experiencing the fatigue with me. I felt jet-lagged but usually Eddie felt jet-lagged with me from our travels. I was the only one vomiting. Usually, someone else felt lousy after partying too much. I had bouts of extreme hunger. Usually, it was Eddie that decided when we would eat a snack because he always got hungry before me. No one else felt what I felt. When the kicks started, I was alone with them for a while too. No one around me felt them and they were hard to describe. I would be in the middle of a conversation and I would feel a little flutter on the inside. I would be tempted to hush the other person in the conversation so I could focus on the movements and talk back to my baby...but that would probably have been rude. Pregnancy has made me feel pretty alone at times. You can describe what's happening to you but it doesn't do it justice.

This whole process has made me learn to love my body. I took a "belly bump" picture at 5 weeks. I am currently 34 weeks and when I look back at my stomach back at 5 weeks I can only HOPE for it to be that "flat" again. I always thought I was a little overweight but now that I see my belly growing, I will be more than happy to look like that again after. I love my body and all the changes it's automatically making. I talk a lot about my feelings in my blogs. If my mind and body are separate machines, I wish my mind could tell my body how much I love it. My body is changing so much and I think it's magical. Eddie looks at my body in awe too and it makes me feel beautiful. The compliments he gives me makes me feel so special. I wish I could record them and save them forever. When he rubs my belly and kisses it, I feel so lucky to have a man that isn't creeped out by all the changes happening to me. For 30 years I've been dealing with this body. I've seen it change, slowly, but the changes that are happening now are... indescribable. I'm amazed and thankful for what God and nature has made possible. I've asked Eddie a few times if it makes him sad or jealous that I get to carry our son, that I get to feel his movements, that I will be the one to nourish him. He is very quick to say "no!" - I think it's the birthing part that scares him. I say bring it on. I am loving being pregnant!

To my unborn son,

Oh, hey, it's your "mom." Yep, the one that can't sing and sometimes feeds you french fries. Yep, that's right, the one that burps like a trucker, sorry if that rattles your little itty bitty bones! If I'm honest, I don't really know what "mom" means. Before I married your dad, I repeated the word "wife" over and over again and tried to figure out what that word meant too. For the record, I'm still clueless. And on that day in late February, when you officially make me a mom, I will probably be just as clueless. Let's promise to not tell anyone else how much I don't know what I'm doing. Luckily, you won't be able to use words for a while so I think we can fool some people. Keep all that crying stuff to a minimum too, that's a sign you're not happy, and people might catch on. K, thanks.

Mommy takes care of babies every day at work. Oh, that's right, you knew that because you like to kick them when I hold them on my lap. When it comes to newborns, I know what I'm doing up until about the 3 month mark. Everything after that is uncharted territory. The babies I take care of stay in one place when I put them there. Oh, what about dad, you ask? Ummm, yea...his world is about to be rocked and he has no idea it's coming. He's sweet though. You'll fall in love with him instantly, just like Mommy did. Ok, back to this being a baby thing. I got you. I can change a diaper with one hand. I've never fed a baby with my boob so we'll see how that goes together too but I can give a baby a bottle with one...heck, NO hands!

I don't know what you want. I mean, I know you'll want food, love and a clean ass (who doesn't) but I mean other more complex things. Mommy has two younger brothers. Yea, Uncle Brandon and Uncle Bronson. Yea, the tall ones. Yea, they're kinda weird too, that's right. I have some experience growing up with boys. I used to play games with them and beat them and their friends up. Mommy is good at video games too. Don't cry too hard when I whoop you in all of them and dance circles around you. Daddy can teach you how to wrestle but Mommy might be the one to teach you how to defend yourself on the rough and tough streets of Rümmingen.

I have some idea what kind of games you'll want to play and I can kind of guess what you might be in to. But what I really hope is that you will want to cuddle with me sometimes. I picture myself saying "Ok, Eddie, aren't you tired of throwing rocks and digging in dirt? Don't you want to come in a snuggle with Mommy?" or "Are you sure you want to play with your cars and bulldozers again? Don't you want to bake something with me?" or "How 'bout we stop shooting mommy with the fake gun, clean up all our action figures and maybe play dress up?" You're already the sweetest boy I know. You're a mommy's boy already but shhh...it will be our little secret from daddy.

I'm worried I don't really know what little boys want. I mean, we'll figure it out together, but it will take me some time. What terrifies me even more is that I'm pretty sure I know what teenage boys wants. ::gulp:: Oh man, I am worried for those years. Your dad will have to teach you to shave. I think mommy learned how to shave a man in nursing school but that was eons ago. As for all the other changes in the teen years, I'm nervous. When it comes to love, I hope I will be your main woman for a long while. It makes me sad when people say that sons eventually leave their families for their wives. You're not even hear yet and I'm worried about you leaving. From the day I saw your little heart flickering on the ultrasound machine, I've worried about you disappearing. I hope by the time this day comes, I will have the confidence to let you go because your dad and I have raised you as well as we could. Any questions you have about how to treat a lady, look to your father. He makes me feel like a queen. Any other questions you have, I'll teach you along the way as well.

I hope you have a kind heart.
I hope you think independently and make good friend choices.
I hope, when the day comes, you make a perfect partner choice too.
I hope you grow up happy and healthy. (Even though I've never held you, I'm already aware that there's nothing worse than a sick child.)
I hope you learn to love God because his love for you exceeds my own. (That is a huge concept for even me to grasp.) There will be a day when your dad and I will no longer walk this earth with you but as long as you turn to God, you will never be too far lost.
And most of all, I hope you feel loved...because you so are!

My son, our son, I hope you're ready to feel all this love! I know we're ready! (Well, we still need to fix up the nursery, but as soon as we're done, come on out!)

Love,
Your Mom
Deine Mama
Tvoya Mamochka

Germany vs. America

320.   At the gas stations in Germany, they offer you disposable gloves to wear while you pump or maybe for other car maintenance while you’re there. Perhaps that’s a little better than the waterless hand sanitizer we offer?

321.   While I was visiting Germany, research results came in and…::drum roll::…the “Prettiest Cow” lives in Switzerland! Seriously.

322.   I was a guest speaker in Eddie’s English class a few times and I noticed that sometimes when the students raise their hands, their index fingers are extended, almost like they are simply pointing to the ceiling, not like an opened hand. Kinda like the guy in the middle of this painting. Is that weird to anyone else?

323.   I can not find whipped cream in the frozen section here. You have to whip your own and sweeten it, or settle for the one in the can with the push nozzle...not the same!

324.   I’ve touched on how everyone in a group of friends is greeted by a hand shake, hug, or kiss on the cheek in another blog (I think). It’s gotten to the point where I am comfortable with Eddie’s close friends but it can still be a bit awkward with others. I try not to be the first person greeted (although the lady usually is). I try to see which greeting that particular person prefers. I’ve come to learn which of Eddie’s acquaintances prefer handshakes, hugs, or one, two, or even THREE kisses! Sheesh! I usually just want to do a collective hello/goodbye!

325.   The origins of the Advent calendar come from German Lutherans and has morphed into what we know today as the physical countdown to Christmas by opening little “windows” each day of December revealing a small treat!

326.   "Fastnacht" is the pre-Lent celebration on the day before Ash Wednesday (Fat Tuesday? Perhaps comparable to Mardi Gras with the parades only minus the beads/nudity + candy and confetti).

327.   During the days of the "Fastnacht" celebrations, HUGE fires are lit in the villages to scare away evil spirits and witches. People try to jump through the flames to rid their bodies of the evil spirits following them.

328.   The people in the "Fastnacht" Parade attack unsuspecting victims with confetti. They rub it in women's hair. Shove it down shirts/pants. They pick up women in the front row, tie them up, and run off with them for a while. Sometimes they'll pin you down and steal your shoe and play monkey-in-the-middle with you in front of hundreds of people. Sounds like a good time, right? Needless to say, Eddie kept me in the back row!


329.   There is a special cake that is only available during the weeks of "Fastnacht." It's delicious and love it. It's my favorite part of the "season" and tastes like a bunch of thin, crispy elephant ears. Yummmm! I can't wait until February for two reasons now!