The Crisis Nursery

The Saskatoon Crisis Nursery is a place to take your children when you are unable to care for them for the moment.  They offer the children a home like environment with healthy meals, caring "aunties" and "uncles", recreation, reassurance for their parents that their children are safe, and assistance for the parents to find the resources they need.  They have ten rooms; six of which have beds, and four of which have cribs for infants. They are open 24 hours a day. 
Honestly, until recently I wondered who would be a terrible enough parent to need this resource.  Fortunately during my struggles with postpartum depression I had a loving husband, supportive family, and caring friends.  But what if I was a single mother with no one?  I think there would have been days when my children would have then been better off at the crisis nursery while I got back on my feet.  Or what about a mother who is leaving an abusive relationship, foster kids when the foster system is already full, a single mother who requires surgery or needs to attend court.  I now think that it is incredible that this resource is available.  I'm sure it protects an incredible number if children every year.
I have decided to go through all of my kids' old clothes and put together a package for the crisis nursery.  In addition to clothing, they needs items such as baby formula, baby food, diapers, toys, bedding, shoes, etc.   They will take donations at any time but prefer that you avoid mealtimes, as they are very busy cooking and feeding the kids. Check out their website and see if you can help in any way.
It's amazing how your experiences open your eyes.  What I used to think was a service that was abused by bad parents, I now believe is an essential resource for struggling parents. And an amazing opportunity to protect innocent children.

What a mighty good man

I think that we sometimes forget about the men.  For example, when a family brings home the new baby, everyone asks how the mom is doing.  Yes, labour is definitely more difficult for the mother, but was the dad not there at all?  Did he not stay up the whole 24 hours (22 hours of which was labour...I'll keep that story for another day) trying to keep the mother relaxed and calm.  Did he not have to sleep on a piece of foam on the floor of the hospital while mom and baby both slept in beds?  We need to remember that we need these men.  Jack was born just after midnight.  He was a really good baby that night and slept quite well.  I woke up at about 4:00 am in incredible pain.  I swear things hurt that I didn't even know that I had. I called the nurse to get some medication.  If I could have crawled onto the floor to get some comfort from Scott, I would have.  I really needed him that night, but I was pretty sure that if I got down there, I wasn't getting back up again.  During the infertility journey everyone worries about the woman.  It's like the man is just there to supply the goods.  I think it is often forgotten that it is their dreams of having a family that are being messed with too.  And because the woman is often more likely to be the one to fall to pieces, the man has to appear strong for them.  And when the timing is right, no one worries that the man has the flu.  They better perform in case this is the month.  You just can't miss that window.  During IVF, the woman is kept relatively comfortable.  She is given hot blankets and Ativan to relax her during the retrieval.  The man is given one of two rooms to perform his magic.  The first has a rubber couch and porn from the '80s.  The other is a converted bathroom in which the man gets to sit on the toilet and read a magazine while making the magic.  Super romantic.  Super sexy. But we don't worry about the stress that causes for the man or the fact that he just watched someone he cares about writhe around on the bed while they stuck needles through her vaginal wall.  Get in there and do your thing!  Or what about moving day?  Even if he is the smallest skinniest man in the world, he would be expected to carry the fridge.  The largest heaviest woman would be asked to unpack the utensils.  Makes me glad to be a woman in that scenario. During my struggles with post partum depression I wasn't able to do the night time feedings.  Once I finally got to sleep, I needed to stay asleep or not sleep at all.  Scott fed Jack twice a night and got up at 6:30 to go to work everyday.  People would look at the bags under his eyes and say, "Wow, your wife must really be struggling."  And I was, but so was he.  He carried our family by doing those feedings, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, and making supper.  And all the while everyone asked him how I was was doing.  No one asked how he was doing. By no means am I trying to make anyone feel bad about this.  Its just the way it works.  Whenever a new baby comes into the world, the expression reads, "Mom and baby are doing fine." 
Just don't tell him I wrote this.  I don't want the secret to be out!

Are you going to hurt yourself or your children?

Are you going to hurt yourself or your children?  That's the question that made things serious.  Jack was about six weeks old and I finally had everything I ever wanted.  Except I couldn't get it together.  I am an incredibly independent person with a type A personality.  I never want to ask for help and I always want things done my way.  To answer the question....No, I didn't want to hurt myself or my children.  I wanted there to be more of me to give to them because I felt like I didn't have enough to give.  Jack was born the beginning of December.  Everyone came to meet him and then went home for a week or so.  And then everyone came back for Christmas.  And then everyone left for good.  I was alone with two wonderful kids.  Lily was used to all the attention and Jack was a newborn who needed lots of attention...and well I just didn't want to get out of bed in the morning.  I couldn't sleep.  I assumed it was because I had a newborn who wanted to eat a bunch during the night, but even when he wasn't awake, I was.  I laid there dreading the next day because I would have to get out of bed again.  And I cried.  I had heard of the baby blues and assumed this was it, but it just wasn't going away.  I tried taking Lily to daycare an extra day during the week.  When she was home, I was anxious because I couldn't handle everything.  When she was away, I cried because I was lonely.  I don't know who I became, but it was definitely not myself.  I am very lucky to have a mother who experienced post partum depression.  She recognized the symptoms and kept asking if she could come help me.  I kept putting it off because I wanted to look forward to her visit instead of it happening immediately and then being over.  I felt sorry for her children for experiencing what I was doing to my kids without realizing for a moment that one of her kids was me.  I was irrational and unable to make decisions.  I wanted to be exactly the same mom I was before Jack was born, which was impossible.  My life had changed and when change happens you have to roll with the punches.  I would watch the news and they would talk about Haiti.  I knew my life was a million times better than theirs and that I had no right to feel this way, but it still would not go away.  I had no reason to be sad or anxious, but I felt these emotions every moment of every day.  I was fortunate to have three really close pharmacist friends who not only recognized that I was struggling, but that I needed help.  I didn't want to go on medication.  Even though I am a pharmacist myself, there was a stigma in my head about anti-depressants.  Then within two days of each other they each told me that if I didn't go to the doctor immediately, they were going to call her for me.  I called the post partum depression hotline and I "failed" their tests.  They also gave me one day to see my doctor or they would call her for me.  My OB/GYN is incredibly knowledgeable but I have often wondered about her bed side manner.  She often seemed hurried and maybe even aloof.  That day she squeezed me in, hugged me, and spent at least a half hour discussing my issues and my options.  We chose a drug to start me on and discussed my concerns.  I had been struggling with breastfeeding since day one.  My instinct said that Jack wasn't getting enough but everyone said he was.  And I had stopped trusting my instinct.  (Never stop trusting your instinct...it's the only thing that makes you a great mother!!!)  She "forced" me to stop breastfeeding.  I really had wanted to all along but was scared that quitting would make me a failure.  (But quitting made me a much better mom!!)  She also said I couldn't be alone for the next 4-6 weeks.  What????  I can't ask for help.  That's just not me. But between my mom (whom I couldn't have done it without), Scott's mom, and some really amazing friends, I survived.  The original medication didn't really work for me and I was switched to Celexa.  I love you Celexa.  It gave me my life back.  I was so worried I would become someone different yet again, but I became me.  Even though I think that I am better, I have remained on the medication out of fear of becoming that stranger again.
I have tried to write this post at least ten times.  It is the only post I had a hard time sharing and the only one that has made me cry (so far).  Depression is tough.  It is chemical, but when you are experiencing it, you assume it is personal.   And, it can happen to anyone. Even me.

The trunk of shame

It was August and our baby girl was due to be born at any time.  Because of our past failures both in IVF and a previous adoption, we hadn't told many people about this opportunity.  We were much too scared it would blow up in our faces.  We tried to continue on with our lives as usual which included a camping trip in the mountains and a wedding in Flin Flon.  We were on call at all times and constantly checked our cell phones to make sure they had a signal and that the batteries weren't dead.  We had learned the hard way that when you purchase items in anticipation of an adoption, it is much too hard to decide what to do with them when it doesn't work out.  Because of this, we had only purchased a car seat and had borrowed a few sleepers from a close friend who knew our "secret".  Those items were stored in the trunk of our car so we could head straight to Winnipeg from where ever we were at the time.  But it was awkward.  What if someone opened up the trunk?  By now everyone knew of our struggles to have a baby....and everyone knew I obviously was not pregnant.  We had come to the conclusion that if someone were to see those items, they would assume that we were preparing to kidnap a baby.  Because of this, we made sure no one came near our car during the camping trip or the wedding.  In hindsight, we hid it as if we were embarrassed to assume we had a chance.  We later joked that it was our "trunk of shame."

The great embryo debate

This is a very personal and controversial topic.  This is me sharing my thoughts with you.  I am not looking for any suggestions or advice.  I am sure the answers will come to us in time...
The whole time you are in the process of an IVF cycle all you do is count your eggs.  Every fertility clinic has a different recommendation on how many you want to retrieve.  Every woman wants a million.  More eggs = more chances.  Unfortunately, like everything fertility related, this is not an exact science.  You could have 20 follicles containing eggs and retrieve six.  You could have ten follicles containing eggs and retrieve 15.  Using ultrasound and blood work, the doctors have an estimated idea of what's going on in there, but there is no definite answer until they are out.  Once they are taken from the woman's body (under the influence of narcotics to reduce the pain) they are placed in a dish and either covered in washed sperm or injected with one particular sperm.  This depends on your "issues". And then, like everything fertility related, you wait.  By the next day any eggs that have been fertilized contain a bubble that let's you know that things are a go.  From there, the fertilized eggs become embryos by cell-division.  The ones that don't fertilize are discarded.  Around day 3 of the waiting, the embryos contain approximately 8 cells and are ready to go back in.  A woman my age usually can transfer two embryos back into the uterus.  Any remaining embryos are graded.  If they are doing really well, they can be frozen that day.  If they are struggling a bit, they are grown for another two or three days and will be frozen at that point only if they do well.  So, as you can see, the number of eggs can be whittled away in the process of becoming an embryo of choice.  Frozen embryos remain frozen until which time you determine you want to try again.  When you are in the process of a cycle, you want lots of embryos in case it doesn't work.  You want as many chances of success as possible.  In our second cycle, we retrieved 8 eggs.  Only six of those fertilized.  The two best were transferred back in, two were frozen on day three, and two did not make it to be frozen later.  One of the two transferred back became my blond haired, blue eyed beautiful baby boy.  The other tried really hard to make it, but stopped growing when I was five weeks pregnant and was absorbed by my uterus. 
We are now a wonderfully happy family of four.  We have been trying for so long to have a family and I really just want to be happy.  I fear that I have already achieved more than was possible and that I should thank my lucky stars and stop pushing my luck.  I always thought I would donate my remaining embryos to someone who needed them.  My daughter only became my daughter because of the selflessness of others.  I should try to be as kind with someone else in need.  Right now, in Canada, they are working on an anonymous embryo donor program.  I thought this would be a fantastic option for us.  But now I have Jack.  I see how wonderful he is and wonder what those embryos could become.  There is a very low success rate with frozen embryos so it could all be for nothing, but what it if wasn't?  What if I am meant to be the mother of those children? 
But, what if I'm not?

The creation of family

I was happy...for a while.  At first the idea of having an only child was okay.  I had this wonderful little girl, I could get KFC with all the other mothers on Mother's Day, I was able to do all the kid stuff.  But then I thought about my own childhood.  Everything was better about my childhood because I had a brother.  I thought about our many camping trips and how we had entertained eachother.  It's not that I think that children are better because they have a sibling.  I don't think they need a sibling to be well-rounded or happy.  I just wanted Lily to have the kind of family memories that I had.  My quest for my first child was completely for me.  The quest for a second was for her.  I always knew that if we were offered another Inuit child, we would jump at the chance.  That would be the best scenario for Lily.  She would have someone to discuss her feelings of adoption with.  But I had realized that Lily was a once in a lifetime chance and that we couldn't count on another delivery from the stork.   Our decision to have a biological child had nothing to do with a desire to be pregnant or have a child that looked like us.  We already knew that those were small concerns in a lifetime with your child.  This time our quest for a biological child was a default after waiting for another adoption.  It's strange to think that when we wanted a biological child, we adopted.  When we wanted an adopted child, we got pregnant.  Maybe it was a lesson in unanswered prayers. 
After our first IVF cycle we had returned for a consultation.  Their suggestions were not at all what we wanted to do.  Because of this, I had a hard time talking Scott into going back.  Because our first cycle was a complete failure, we thought our chances of it working were small.  They explained that each cycle is individual and that our chances were the same as the first time.  I wasn't sure what Scott was thinking when we left the office, but he headed straight to the receptionist's office to pay our registration fee.  It was decided.  This was our next path in our journey to create our family.

Ho'omaika'i 'Ana Ma Ka Hiki 'Ana Mai O Kau Kaikamahine

We were finally there.  We had driven the whole way without stopping.  Scott was fairly comfortable in our Jetta but because he is so tall, he always needs to get out every couple hours to stretch his legs.  It had been 8 hours without a stretch.  He was really stiff.  I hopped out and took off running.  Halfway across the parking lot I realized I had forgotten my camera and went running back.  Scott was finally out of the car and stretching.  I took off running again.  I had no idea which way to go and once I finally found a sign I realized we were going the wrong way.  I turned around to run the other direction and realized that Scott was hobbling toward me.  I ran by him in the other direction so he turned around to follow.  I yelled, "Hurry up!" on my way by.  I knew he was going as fast as he could, but this was important.  We found the elevator and took it to the right floor.  Finally we found the room and there she was.  This tiny, beautiful baby girl with an incredible head of black hair.  We both wanted to pick her up but both of us were too scared.  Scott finally picked her up and cuddled her.  I know at this moment he became her father.  I have the most wonderful picture of him feeding her for the first time.   The look on his face says it all....love, disbelief, complete amazement.  The hospital had no idea how to deal with adoptions.  They didn't have an extra room so Lily was staying with her birth mom.  It was really hard to leave the hospital that night.  At the hotel, I couldn't sleep.  I knew it was probably the last time I could have a good night sleep, but something didn't feel right.  I knew that Scott had become Lily's father that night, but because Lily's birth mom was cuddling her that night, I had not become her mother.  We spent the next day at the hospital.  Both Lily and her birth mom were ready to leave, but no one wanted to discharge us because it was the weekend and they wanted the hospital social worker to see us and make sure we weren't doing anything illegal.  It was a wonderful/horrible day.  Our daughter had been born and we got to spend the day with her, but her room was her birth mom's room.  She had just given birth and she had two strangers sitting in her room all day.  Our other option was to sit in the waiting room which was drafty and loud.  We went back and forth between the two feeling awkward in both.  We were anxious and Lily picked up on it.  She wouldn't sleep much and cried lots.  I was still happy but scared. Again we had to leave her at the hospital with her birth mom for the night.  Another sleepless night but at least we knew we could take her home tomorrow.  For now she was safe with her mother, but still that mother was not me.  The next day Lily had a bit of a fever so we had to make sure it was down before we could go. The social worker came and apologized for the awkwardness at the hospital.  And finally it was time to go! We placed our baby in her car seat for the first time.  She was so tiny.  We walked to the hospital entrance with Lily's birth mom.  We said our good byes to the kindest selfless woman I had ever met and walked to our car.  As I placed the car seat in our car I had a rush of emotion.  I got into the car and closed the door.  I didn't realize how hard I was crying until Scott asked me if I was okay.  And then I realized....that was the moment that I became a mother.