Experiences

One thing I get to be happy about after finding out that there is another month of uncertainty ahead of us as we continue on this baby-making journey is that I get to take my sleeping pills for a couple of weeks, while I’m sure I’m not pregnant.

Prior to chucking the birth control pills, I’d been taking Ambien (or the generic, Zolpiderm) for about 6 months pretty much daily.  It was wonderful.  It was so wonderful, in fact, that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop taking it when the time came.  I was sure that I was addicted, even though it is supposedly non-habit-forming.  But I did stop, that first month, and although I had some trouble sleeping, it was nothing worse than the same insomnia that drove me to take the pills in the first place.  Maybe it was even less severe than that. 

I get the lowest dosage of this drug that you can get, and I cut the pills in half, and they knock me out like a … like a … like a two ton heavy thing.  (Anyone? Anyone?) And before I fall asleep, I get a sense of well being, along with minor hallucinations that amuse me.  That’s pretty good shit, doc!

Tonight I took a full pill and now the words are swimming on the screen in front of my eyes, and several rows of type are highlighted in orange (oh, no, it’s blue now).  My keyboard appears to be covered in snow. I wouldn’t be surprised if I started smelling the fishy scent of the Pacific Ocean any time now.  You couldn’t pay me to get in a car and drive right now. 

I took the full dose tonight because I am actually more tired than usual.  Sam has been keeping me up at night.  Well, in the morning.  She is waking up an hour or two earlier than usual, and not napping well either.  It’s wreaking havoc on my sleep schedule, because I’m one of those night people.  I just can’t get my butt to bed early.  As soon as it gets dark, I’m awake.  And this has been going on for a couple of weeks now, and even after sleeping in until 11am this morning (thanks, hon), I am still a walking zombie.

So every night I’ve been saying, “I have to get to bed earlier,” but now I have my miracle pill that will make it happen.  Still, I took the pill and, instead of getting right in bed, I came downstairs to write this post in an altered state.  Anything, anything to stay awake longer.  It’s a curse, I tell you!

And now I must go get a snack and watch a little HGTV, because, of course, I’m all wound up and need to chill a bit before actual sleep arrives.  But at least I know that I’ll be asleep the minute I turn off my light, and nothing will wake me.  Not that damn bird that tweets outside my window at 4am, not those crazy sounds I heard last night that sounded like a combination of something breaking the sound barrier, followed by a gunshot, twice, at 3:45am, not my dog puking under the bed, not my daughter waking up at 6, and then after she quiets, the cat meowing at her door to wake her (and therefore, all of us) back up.  And not that strange lady peering at me from inside the closet, oh, but she disappears when I look in her direction. (Serious hallucinations, I tell you!)

Yeah, I’ll sleep tonight.  Thanks again Modern Medicine.

I peed on a stick this morning.  That’s 2 months of failure now.  I’m not surprised this month, though, since Adam was away on a business trip during the crucial time.  I have more hope this coming month because we were successful in month number 3 both of the previous times.  The other key ingredient was the ovulation predictor kit, which worked on the first try both other times, so I’m pulling that tool out of the box next time too.

If you’ve done the math you may be wondering what happened to the other pregnancy.  Something bad happened.  Something really bad.  Not a miscarriage.  At twenty weeks, I had the ultrasound that told us we were having a girl, but there were some anomalies.  So, I had an amnio.  Waiting the 10 days for the results was hard, but they came back normal.  Then we had to wait through another 3 weeks of torture to have another ultrasound, and that’s when we found out that the baby was horribly disfigured.  We got a second opinion just in case, but we knew what we had to do.  I would never give birth to a child with Down’s, and this was probably worse, although we couldn’t know for sure since it wasn’t a recognizable condition or syndrome.  If the baby made it to term at all, it might have even endangered my health to give birth – at least that’s what the good doctors told the religious nuts on the Board of the hospital, who would presume to tell me what the rest of my life must be.  You see, I was just about to enter the 3rd trimester.

The doctor gave the baby a lethal injection and I gave birth to a dead baby the next day.  I was so scared to look at her, but I did.  She never could have lived – not a real life – but she wasn’t a monster either.  I’m so glad I looked at her or I would have had a black hole of terror inside me forever.  The autopsy didn’t tell us anything about why it happened.  It could have been a combination of our genes, which would mean that it could happen again, or it could have been something that went wrong after conception, in which case it would be very unlikely to happen again.  We waited 3 months and started over and ended up with Samantha, who is perfectly healthy.  Still, that doesn’t rule out the possibility that we have a lethal combination of genes; it just makes it less likely.

I’ve had to work really, really hard at not allowing that experience to cripple me with fear.  I’d had very little experience with death before that, and it was a hard way to join the club.  I didn’t feel like I was truly pregnant with Sam until we had a clean 20 month ultrasound, which was a shame because I did love being pregnant.  I know if I get pregnant again, it will be the same.  Most people wait until the 12 week mark to make any announcements because the chances of a miscarriage are so high up until that point.  I figure that by the time I’m 20 weeks along and feeling comfortable, I’ll be as big as a house already anyway, so I might as well lay it all out from day one.

Since nobody likes to be pitied and we hide early miscarriages, I had no idea how common they were.  After our experience, it seemed like every woman I knew told me about their miscarriages.  If they hadn’t had a miscarriage, they had fertility issues.  Despite all the racy jokes to the contrary, the process of making babies is a terrible, difficult thing.  And now, I’m 39.  Doctors call that, “advanced maternal age,” and it comes with all sorts of fun stuff to worry about.  I was in that category last time too, but at 36, it was borderline.  Now I’m clearly past the time when making babies is supposed to be easy.

So I’m excited to try to make another one, but I’m going to be on-edge for a while, no matter what happens.

I want to conclude this story with one observation.  As bad as our first pregnancy experience was, I thank my lucky stars that I was born in this age of modern medicine.  My baby’s problem was diagnosed before she was born, allowing me to save her, my husband, and myself from the unimaginable misery that would have ensued should she had lived.  I had an abortion.  I’m proud of it, and so very thankful for the doctors who helped me through it.  And now when I hear anti-abortion advocates calling abortion immoral, I get angry.  I get head-spinning, stomach-churning angry because I remember the 3 hours I spent in the doctor’s office, waiting for the lethal injection.  The 3 hours that it took to clear the procedure through the Catholic Board of Directors.  The 3 worst hours of my life.

We had such a nice morning with Rational Jenn and her family last week.  We just hung out while the kids played for a couple of hours.  There were a million things I wanted to talk to her about and didn’t have the time.  It’s pretty nice to make friends over the blogosphere; normally it would take me a couple of years to become that comfortable with someone.   

The kids got along great.  I had forgotten that Jenn’s son is a bit afraid of dogs, but luckily we had put Toby in his crate before they arrived.  Ryan was visibly nervous when he arrived to the sound of a barking dog.  Toby, although he is the friendliest dog ever, can sound pretty scary!  Paradoxically, everyone immediately falls in love with Jinx, who is the real terror. 

Adam is so good with kids and animals that I think he kind of took it upon himself to cure Ryan of his fear.  First, he helped ease Ryan into petting Toby through the crate.  Then he had Ryan stand on top of a trunk where Toby couldn’t jump on him, and he opened the crate while making Toby stay inside.  Then he called Toby out in a controlled way (I think he used the leash, too) and made him sit again.  Adam showed Ryan how Toby obeyed his commands.  Ryan liked it when Adam sent Toby up and down the stairs over and over just to show that he would do it.  Ryan was not “cured,” but by the end of the morning he was able to handle being in the same room with Toby loose, which was awesome to see.  Yea, Ryan! 

I was pretty proud of my dog.  As we always say, “Toby: he’s a licker and a lover, not a fighter and a biter.”

But I was even more proud of Adam.  I wasn’t paying that much attention to the whole thing, but I know how he is - he is so empathetic and patient – it’s what makes him a great dad.  Come to think of it, that must be where Samantha gets her strong sense of empathy!  I never made that connection before.  Neat!

We have three social events this weekend.  Tomorrow, fellow Objectivist mommy blogger Rational Jenn and her family are coming to visit.  I feel like I’m going to meet a celebrity!  Saturday, we’re spending the day with a friend from Taiwan who is town on business.  I only wish his wife and son could have come too but it’s going to be great to see him again.  Sunday, we’re celebrating a local friend’s birthday by watching some DVDs and getting some sushi for dinner.

I’m exhausted already!

Sam and I gave up on trying to see the cherry blossoms on Sunday because the Metro station was so crowded I didn’t want to deal with it.  (I heard later that I was right – it was unbearably crowded in DC on Sunday and people were waiting for trains for a long time.)  We have tons of time on the weekdays, so I decided to try again today.  It’s very cold and windy today, but at least there was no rain in the forecast.  The bloom period is almost over, so it was today or never.

The parking lot at the Metro station was full.

I decided to drive in and take our chances on finding parking.  I don’t mind driving, and I get to listen to Leonard Peikoff’s podcasts in the car. (Sam loves the word Peikoff.  Every time he says his name she repeats it in her cutsey voice:  PEIKOFF PEIKOFF PEIKOFF.)

Not only was there no parking, but I couldn’t even figure out how to get around with all the closed off streets.  I ended up going about 10 miles north of where I wanted to be because I could not find a place to turn around or pull over.  Sam had fallen asleep so it wasn’t so bad, but still, what a waste.  This might end up being one of those DC things I never see, just like I never saw the Mackinac (pronounced “mack-i-naw”) Bridge while we lived in Michigan, even though it was number one on my to-see list.

We drove back to our burb and I decided to take Sam out to lunch so we’d have something to show for our long journey.  I did get a good Rueben, but the deli was so crowded that I ended up with a headache and some anxiety.  I had had enough of crowds already!  While we were in the deli, I think I saw a few snowflakes falling outside.  Now that just made me mad. 

When we got home, I found a notice on my door that my water had been turned off, and indeed it had.   Apparently, my sewer bill comes from the county and my water bill comes from the city – not the city I live in, but another one.  I paid the quarterly sewer bill and assumed it covered both like it did at our old house just down the road, but apparently, the city that we don’t live in had sent a bill in January, and then two notices in February and March – to the wrong address.  They were able to find me to turn off the water, but apparently, didn’t have my correct address to send me a bill.

I was able to convince them to remove the $50 fee and to pay by credit card over the phone.  My water should be back on by 5pm.  Lucky me.

I’m temped to just hole up here at home but it’s too depressing, so we’re going to the library.  If I can pull a good day out of this one, I’ll be very proud.

Adam and I are really starting to enjoy living here in DC.  We’ve been socializing more than ever, mostly through visits from our out-of-town friends.  I think we’ve had just about one visit per month from people passing through town and the schedule is even more packed for the next couple of months. 

It’s also exciting to be living in a real city again.  Today, Adam was on the train to New York for a workshop at Columbia University and was sitting across from the former commander of the U.S.S. Cole, from the time it was attacked.  Adam admires the U.S. military very much (he even considered a career in the military at one point) so this was a huge thrill for him.  (Apparently, the gentleman is scheduled to be on Hannity and Colmes tonight, I think discussing the shut-down of Guantanamo.  I hate that show but I’ll have to watch it.)  You don’t usually get to meet such interesting people on planes and trains when you live in East Lansing or Lexington, Virginia!  Although, come to think of it, we did meet Mayor Ray Nagin on a plane when we lived in New Orleans, but that was pre-Katrina so he wasn’t quite that interesting yet. 

Adam has also made a ton of great contacts for work amongst the lobbyists and think tanks here in DC.  We’ve been able to attend every lecture of the Ayn Rand Center for the Advancement of Objectivism.  (I wonder why they changed their name.)  I’m going to a big homeschooling conference this summer, whose keynote speaker will be Susan Wise Bauer.  I’ve been meaning to read her book, The Well Trained Mind, for ages, so I’ll have to get to that soon.

There is just so much going on all the time.  I don’t need to plan anything.  In fact, I need to turn down quite a bit.  We have other friends in the outlying areas that we’ve been meaning to visit since we arrived…last May!  I think I need to put that on my to-do list or we’ll always be too busy.

But not this week.  We need to get downtown to see the cherry blossoms.  I’ve never seem them in bloom.  Spring is just beginning here and we have white and pink flowers everywhere.  It’s just beautiful.  Maybe it will be ok to live here after all.

After having lived in 9 cities now, I can tell you that people who have only lived in one place all have two things in common:

1. They all think that their own city has the most unpredictable weather (even in Los Angeles!).
2. They all think that their own city has the worst drivers.

Ok, so I’m exaggerating.  Not all people think these things, but I’ve seen it quite often.

I find the different driving norms in various places to be quite interesting.  In mid-Michigan, people would make left turns against oncoming traffic and cut it really close, but for a right turn they would barely put on any gas until the turn was almost complete.  In Chicago, people were just plain stupid drivers.  It was common for people to make right turns from the left lane and vice versa.  In Boston, they were extremely aggressive.  One time, someone threw a Big Gulp out his window at Adam for not moving fast enough – not at Adam’s car, but at his head, through the open window!  In New Orleans, the lack of ambition in the culture showed in the driving, where people were too lazy to push hard on the gas pedal, but also too lazy to move their foot to the brake for red lights, so they’d just keep going and run them.  Here in the DC area, people don’t understand the left turn yield.  Most traffic lights here seem to have a green left arrow, but a few have a green left arrow and then change to just the green light and you can turn when traffic is clear.  And people just don’t go!  It happens all the time and it makes me crazy.

This is probably why Sam yells at every green light, GO PEOPLE, GO!

I’ve made most of the arrangements necessary for our move and the packing is on track.  We’re moving on 11/28 – the day after Thanksgiving.  Luckily, some good friends in town have invited us for a quick Thanksgiving dinner and we won’t have to do more than bring a store-bought pie.  We’ll probably be painting that morning and packing more boxes that night. 

Aside from being Sam’s mom, house hunting has been my dominant activity for the past few months.  It’s been so frustrating not to be able to write about it, but we had to break our lease and so didn’t want to go public.  Our landlords here have treated us so well and we’re working closely with them to re-rent their home.  It was a risk to rent a townhouse privately, but it worked out better than we could have hoped.  Thanks J and L!

Our house hunting adventure started with exploring a huge area of northern Virginia by car.  We spent about 5 weekends just driving around and looking at a few open houses.  Samantha was a real trooper, although the portable DVD player we said we’d never buy was a big help.  We found that there were only a few neighborhoods in our price range that would meet our basic needs.  A regular detached house was pretty much out of the question, although we did look at a few.  The next option in this area is the townhouse, like the one we are renting now.  I despise living on 3 levels and not having windows on 2 sides of the house, but other than that, the townhouses here are pretty nice (and low maintenance!)  A commute was also going to be necessary, as the area around Adam’s job carries California-like prices, and the next ring around that is a slum.

The whole point of starting the house hunting early was to give us time to make a large quantity of low-ball offers, in the hopes of getting a good deal.  We saw a house we really liked, so before we even had a real estate agent we decided to make an offer on our own, working directly with the seller’s agent.  This turned out to be a waste of time.  She was supposed to represent both us and the seller, but after 3 meetings with her we realized that we could not trust her, and decided to get an agent.  In the meantime, that house went under contract.  That was ok with us – we knew we had only a slim chance of getting it in the first place, and we were determined not to get emotionally involved in any offers we made.

We know a lot of people who have purchased homes here recently and could have referred us to their agents, but for some reason we decided to use an agent we met at another property and had liked.  I just don’t know what possessed us – it was a bad decision.  This agent was helpful in the house hunting process, but once we started making offers we realized she was incompetent and dishonest.  At one point, we had 2 offers outstanding because she neglected to revoke one before we made the next.  If both sellers had accepted those offers, we would have been on the hook to buy 2 houses!  Besides that, this agent had no idea how to be an advocate for us in the negotiation process.  She seemed to feel it was her job to convince us to spend as much money as possible.  We fired her after the 2-offer incident.  We hired a new agent on the recommendation of a friend, and we’ve been pretty happy with her.

During this whole process, the credit crisis hit.  I was on the phone with our mortgage broker almost daily, trying to keep up with interest rates, down-payment requirements, increasing mortgage insurance costs, and stricter lending practices.  It was a real nightmare.  There were days that we decided to make an offer, but by the time we got the paperwork done we could afford to pay 10% more.  Remember, we were making very low offers on all these properties, so we were trying to offer as much as we could afford at any given point in time.  One day we were all set to make an offer and suddenly every single mortgage insurer decided they would not insure 95% loans.  We could not put more than 5% down, so this basically killed any chance at buying.  We resigned ourselves to renting indefinitely.  A few days later, our broker found that FHA loan rates had come down, and they only required 5% down, so we could manage that way.  We got a lock on that and were about to make another offer when we found the house we ended up buying. 

We called it the “comparison townhouse” because it was in the same neighborhood as the original one we were interested in, was listed for $10K less, and the ad said it had more updates.  We decided to go look at it so that we could use it as a reason to convince the seller of the original house that she was overpriced.  When we saw it we were blown away.  It had a great open floorplan, 4 bedrooms instead of 3, and although it needed some work, was in better shape overall than the first house.  We realized that this was no exercise, but the perfect house for us!

Needless to say, after much haggling, we closed the deal, but not without more nightmarish hassles.  The owner of the house is a real estate agent representing himself and tried to pull every dishonest trick in the book.  We thought we had a ratified contract at one point, only to find out 4 days later that he had never signed 2 pages.  Our new real estate agent isn’t perfect either – she told us specifically that he had signed the whole offer (as we were driving to Pennsylvania for my grandmother’s funeral) so when Adam and I noticed the missing pages we assumed that they had gotten lost between our agent and us, not that they were never there.  We actually did the home inspection before we had a signed offer, so if he had backed out, we would have lost $450.  He tried everything he could to use this against us, but finally, our agent did her job and got this bastard to sign the papers.  Whew!

A few days after that got resolved, our mortgage broker stopped returning our calls.  When I finally cornered her, she admitted that she could not honor the rate-lock agreement we had made because the rules had changed again.  I’m not sure if she was dishonest or simply incapable of keeping up with the insanity in her industry, but we had to fire her and get a new loan.  I can’t tell you how frightening this was.  It’s bad enough when this sort of thing happens in a normal market, but with the uncertainty that we had already experienced we thought for sure that we were toast.  Once again, our real estate agent came through for us with some options, and we ended up getting a good loan that is costing us about the same as we had anticipated. 

Since then, things have gone more smoothly.  The home inspection showed that the house is in good shape (although we did find out that the seller lied more than once in the MLS advertisement.)  There were renters living in the house who have since moved out, which had been another huge worry.  The seller has tried to get out of every single thing that he agreed to, but mostly our agent has had to deal with him.  In the declining market we have now, we also had to be concerned about the house not appraising for the amount we paid for it.  In all 3 of my previous real estate purchases I’ve never had to think about that, but our good eye for value was validated when the appraisal came through.

The sad part is that we never had a day where we felt like, WE BOUGHT A HOUSE!  Somehow, we’ve morphed into knowing that it will all work out, but there was never a specific moment.  I’m hoping we get our moment when we close escrow on Monday.  I think I’ll go buy some champagne just in case.