no news is good news?

October 2013

Room by room, we were able to separate the actual crap from the good at my grandparents house.  This was not the easiest task to take on, but we would get on a roll.  Hundreds of trips to the back fire pit, countless full garbage cans.  The house was starting to feel less cluttered (in the behind the scenes areas) and we really felt like we had accomplished something.  

Because we were in the "lets see if the medicine you are both on gets you pregnant on your own" stage, it was nice to have something to distract our minds.  Our doctor gave us from early October to late December.  We didn't see that as a bad thing.   We waited to hear back about our short sale offer and kept busy.

Speaking of short sale offer - there were really no updates to report.  Still hopeful.  Every thing we read says we might not hear for much longer.  So, we will just move to another room and organize it. 

When we moved into this house, we decided that it made the most sense and was the least disruptive to the house to keep all of our boxed belongings in the master bedroom with us.  After about a month or so, it wasn't really a bother.  We had as much as we needed and our offered close date was just a few weeks away.

symptom, symptom, whose got a symptom?

What I am unintentionally leaving out of these posts is the details of the emotional roller coaster I have been on.  I don't know if I blocked those emotions from my memory or I just don't want to remember them... either way.  Every month since the beginning was a symptom searching disappointment.  I was tracking these "symptoms" constantly. I believed everything was a symptom and every couple of weeks, I would get a negative test and hold back my tears.  

During the early months, I tried so hard to hold my disappointment in.  I convinced myself of facts that had no credibility. "it always takes people a year to get pregnant..." or "the first time is always the hardest"  Now, those may be true in a sense, I am not denying that. 

Even after we figured out the problem, I would have that glimmer of hope of a headache "symptom" or  a million other things that I was still so sad every month.  I used to bait Ryan into giving me a guess - do you think I'm pregnant? oh man, he hated that.  When he wouldn't answer,  I would just google early symptoms of pregnancy and be all cheery in my head.

Every month I had a routine of sorts:  after my would-be ovulation time, I would immediately start figuring out when an appropriate time to announce the pregnancy to our family would be... then I would spend hours upon hours looking for the perfect way for that time of year.  Next I would look at ways to announce to our group of friends, and then facebook.  Always looking for new and unique ideas.  Then seasonal maternity clothes, baby shower ideas, and so on.  I know this didn't help my emotions.  

Everyone has told me that I shouldn't be doing things like this... think about something else.  Shut up.  No one asked you.  

new doctors, new projects

ok, enough is enough... what is going on in my brain?  We found a new doctor who would see me within a week to read my results. I went into this appointment expecting the worst.  I am sitting in the exam room for what seems like hours, when the doctor walks in.  The actual doctor.  Not a practitioner, not a nurse, the doctor... my new doctor.  He reviewed my chart and looked at me with such a confused expression on his face.
"There is nothing wrong here! If you were my daughter, I would have never sent your for an MRI"

I am relieved, annoyed, frustrated... but still, confused.

What the hell.  Nothing is wrong with me from his stand point, and yet, still no baby.  He told me there is no reason that we should be having this much trouble and suggest that we get Ryan tested.  A week later, we find out that every category that's tested in men came back bad, low, below average. Ugh.  What does that even mean? My new doctor refers me to his grade-school friend, a top rated fertility specialist, who happens to have an office a couple blocks away.

Another new office, another set of paperwork.  Our new fertility doctor wanted to meet with us together to figure out a plan.  He decided that Ryan needed to get started on some vitamins and medicine to help raise his numbers.  After that, he would be re-tested in a few months to see if there was any improvement.  In the meantime, we should just continue to try.

The problem was pinpointed, now we needed a distraction while we waited. Since we were only a couple of weeks into our new living situation, we got to work.  Imagine your grandparent's house... everything has its exact place and everything looks pristine even though they've had the same drapes for 40 years and the same couches since before you can remember. Now, open all the closets, look in the attic and basement and visualize all the crap that would be in every available space.  This was a little bit different than usual.  Papa was a collector.  He collected anything from trains, to commemorative plates, to Christmas decorations and yard work supplies.  He also had no organization in the hidden places of his house.

Looks like we found our distraction.

what a month

August 6th, 2013 - We are all sitting in my dad's family room reminiscing about our lost Papa, making arrangements, generally figuring things out when we get a call from our realtor.  We needed to sign a couple more forms, and we needed to now.  Luckily, he lives less than a mile from my dad's house, so we ran them over.  We all took this as a great sign for us to get this house... woo?  So much to think about at a time like this, it was hard to be happy.  

August 9th, 2013 - Happy Birthday to me.  Today was Papa's funeral.  Months prior to his death, he had decided that he wanted to go out with a bang.  Literally. A fireworks enthusiast, retired military airman, and someone who loved his home (which he built himself) going quietly would have been unnatural.  He wrote very specific details of what he wanted in his own funeral.  He would like all of his grandchildren to get up and say a little something, after the service he wanted  several (illegal) fireworks to be shot off, he wanted to take a drive passed his house to a cemetery where there would be full military honors with a 21 gun salute.  He got it all.  Now, I don't know if you've ever been to a military funeral like this, but man. That was intense.  Folding and presenting of the flag, taps, seeing men in uniform crying over a fallen soldier, of which whom they had never met.  I don't think there was a dry eye in that memorial park.  It certainly didn't feel like my 28th birthday, but really... it didn't matter that it was.

The next couple of weeks were a blur.  There was a lot of talk about different scenarios that would happen with Papa's house.  The common theme was 'someone needs to live there while the estate gets straightened out.'  The last thing we needed was for his house to be sitting vacant during this time.  My dad extended the care givers' schedules to get us through the end of the month while we figured it out.  

All in all, it was decided, that while we wait for our short sale to be finalized, we should break our lease and move into that house.  Being that it was only about 2 miles from where we were living, and we were the most reasonable choice, we accepted.

For the next week or so, we started to pack and bring out belongings to Papa's house.  We immediately decided that we would leave the majority of our belongings in boxes and use what the house had.  Essentially, we unpacked our clothes, some bathroom items, very few kitchen items... and that's about it.  

That Labor Day weekend, we headed north as a family to scatter Papa's ashes in the same state park that he had vacationed several times per year since the 1940s.  This was becoming a family tradition for us, and it seemed normal.  We enjoyed the unseasonably cold weekend before going back to reality. 

So there we were, less than a year into our marriage and we just moved into my grandparent's house with everything we own, and everything they owned too.   Was this a mistake?

wait... what is happening?

August 2013 - The 1st was on a Thursday.  It had been a little over a week since we submitted our official offer (which was actually a counter offer since our first was way too low - irrelevant!) and we got the call... our offer would be submitted to the bank! Yes!  We are spreading the word, and are super excited that we finally have something to distract us!

Two days later, I got a call from my dad.  My grandfather (who will only be referenced as Papa) was in the hospital, and he was 3 hours away at his cabin.  The tone in his voice did not make me worry, as for an 89 year old man, hospital visits were not uncommon.  I assured my dad that we would stop over there during our typical Sunday errands.  Ryan and I got to the hospital in the late morning that day and saw Papa in a way that we were not expecting.  Papa has Parkinson's and frequently has tremors.  When we walking into his ICU room that day, we saw a frail old man flailing as if he was having a seizure.  The look on his full time care giver's face was heart breaking.  She knew what was going on, but we did not.  Because she had been there for hours by then, she gave us the breakdown of what was going on.  Papa's blood oxygen level had dipped too low the night before, and they went to the ER to figure out what was going on.  Shortly after, he was admitted right to the ICU.  The violent tremors were because the hospital did not carry his correct specialty Parkinson's medication and he went too long with out it.  His caregiver was able to run back to his house to get it, and he would be coming down from those tremors soon after we arrived.  

At this point, it was time to alert the siblings.  My oldest brother, Ben, arrived within 20 minutes of us getting there.  When he walked in, Papa was sleeping and the nurses asked us to leave so that they could do some testing.  The four of us (myself, Ryan, my brother, and Papa's care giver) headed to the hospital cafeteria.  Who knew how long we would be there.  After some chit chat with the care giver, she asked if she could go home to try and sleep.  When we did not object, like a flash, she was on her way and crying the entire time we could see her.  Once we are back in Papa's room, we realize this is way more serious than what was led on.  I called my dad back.  I told him what various nurses and doctors had quickly spewed out to me and thought I was giving new information.  Papa has congestive heart failure and he was not releasing the carbon dioxide from his lungs... which was causing the sleeping.  About two minutes into my conversation with my dad, he tells me "he's gonna die..." Papa had never wanted to be kept alive by way of machine, and that would have been the only way. 

Many other family members were arriving by now.  We were told that he is comfortable and that he would peacefully go in matter of hour(s).  Ryan and I had been there since about 11am, but I wasn't ready to go.  Family came and went.  Some came back.  At about 10pm I had to throw in the towel.  I was exhausted and it was a work night.  My aunt and cousin were still there with us.  The thought of our beloved Papa passing away in a hospital room alone was unsettling to all of us in the room.  Ben decided he would volunteer to come back and spend the night in Papa's room.  At about 3am, I am alarmed awake by a text.  Papa had passed away very quietly with Ben, his first grandchild, by his side. 

in the beginning...

Yeah! Alright! We are going to have a baby in 2013 for sure! 

umm... hello? reality check calling...

January 2013 - time to establish a doctor and get checked out, pre-pregnancy.  We found a group with rave reviews in the same hospital group where Ryan works. score! After a quick checkup with the nurse, it was easily noticed that my vitamin D was pretty low (not necessarily uncommon in Chicago in winter!) and I went on a 4 week vitamin D boost.  Besides that, this doctor thought I would be back in a matter of weeks or a few months at most, with child.  

July 2013 - still not pregnant.  I went back in to get additional testing.  The doctor told me that if it didn't happen in 6 months, we needed to figure out why.  I got the results of my next blood test where it was determined that I had an elevated progesterone level.  "This can only be caused by a growth on your pituitary gland... a minor brain tumor."  WHAT??! Of course I am freaking out, they schedule me for an MRI and I get very very nervous OBVIOUSLY!  They were already talking about brain surgery.  3 days later I had the MRI and I  was told it would be a week or so for results.  This was also the first time we told our families that we were officially trying.

Longest.  Week.  Ever.  

Switching gears in July... We are sick of renting, and decided we are ready to buy.  Got everything ready, talked with our realtor and started seeing properties. At this point, we are trying to stay occupied and remain positive. Because we are fast decision makers, we knew after seeing a handful of properties over the course of a couple weeks, we have found the home for us.  A short sale, within 10 miles of just about everyone in our families, a little smaller than we were hoping for, but way under budget! Sweet. We put our offer the following day (after approval from my dad, the life-long contractor), and we were told to be patient. Hmm... something we are used to.  Our agent told us that short sales in general take about 4-6 months on average.  We were willing to wait.

the decision

There we were... standing in our 1 bedroom apartment, chatting while we got ready for our friend's New Year's party.  The idea of babies has never scared us, we just wanted to be settled in from our wedding before we got to business.  As I curled my hair and went back and forth over what shoes to wear, we talked about our future.  We finally came to the decision that we were ready to start trying and that 2013 would be the year we had a baby! Woo!  That night, we planned and were so excited for what was about to come.  

ahh... look at us. so naïve