Here's what happens

when four fun internet buddies decide it's time for their babies to meet.  I love that we all had this opportunity, and I heart our message board for bringing us all together.

Wish I could get these to lay out better, but the content is far more important than the format.  Love you, Girlies and all your sweet little boys!  Come back and visit soon!

A New Holiday

Of course Father's Day isn't new.  It's been around forever...nearly as long as fathers have been, I suspect, but it's always been a day of sitting on the sidelines for me.  My first Mother's Day this year was a big deal to me but not nearly as important to me as Pierce's first Father's Day.  I never had a father to buy a card for.    I never selected horrible ties or gallons of Old Spice for the man who helped bring about my existence.  I simply looked at old photos, longingly, as my friends all gathered with their families and went out for nice dinners.  I remember a silly little song we used to sing in elementary music where the teacher went around the room, and each kid called out their father's occupation and we sang about it....

"My old man's a doctor, whatta ya think of that?  He wears a doctor's collar, he wears a doctor's hat. He wears a doctor's raincoat, he wears a doctor's shoes.  And every Saturday evening, he reads the doctor's news!  And someday, if I can, I want to be a doctor, just like my old man!'

And so this little ditty went around and around the room until it got to me.  I would turn red and break out in hives, knowing that the teacher would get to me soon.  'My old man's a (pause)'  waiting for me to shout it out.....uh, 'DEAD', I squeaked.  And so was the song.  Hindsight being twenty/twenty and all, I realize that I could have said 'teacher', as that is exactly what he was before he became the other, but I panicked.

Father's Day was never a happy time for me.  I bought cards for my grandfathers, and I know I begrudgingly signed cards for the stepmonster.  It was a day for other people to celebrate but not for me.  That is until now.

We didn't have a fancy dinner.  Pierce got a card from me and one that Miller picked out for him.  By picked out I mean, we were at Target, and I held up two cards in front of my son.  He grabbed the one with the two elephants on the front and promptly put it in his mouth.  Decision made.  I also found an outfit for Miller in a 9 month size (too big) that says, "I (big red heart) Dad".  I told him to give it to Daddy, and he held the Target bag tight in his fist and wouldn't give it up.  And then, you guessed it, put it in his mouth.  There's a lot of that going on in our house right now.

Pierce received several texts and phone calls wishing him a very happy Father's Day.  Even my best friend from high school, who has been reduced to a Facebook friend, sent him a shout out, and she's never even met the guy.  All in all, it was the best Father's Day on record for me, and I am sure they will only get better.  Next year maybe I will let Miller pick out a tie!

The "Sconsin"

While visiting with Miller's godparents on Memorial Day, we learned that their nephew called his grandparents "Gramsie" and "Grampsie".  I about fell over in shock because, you see, those are the exact names I called my mother's parents when i was little.  I thought that I had invented it and was a bit taken a back that another little person had adopted my names and had not cleared it through me.

A few days later I was having a conversation with my best friend, and we were trying to decide what Miller might call all of his grandparents.  My grandma is, obviously, his great-grandma, but my mother takes offense to that because in her mind, "great" implies better.  We decided that he should probably just call her "Grandma".  Now, my mother signs all of her cards to Miller, Grandma Diane.  She does not refer to herself as Grandma Miller because that was my dad's mom to all of us.  There was only one Grandma Miller, and those are not shoes she is willing to fill.  Anyway, he can't call her by her first name because that would be inappropriate, so if he were to think of her as Grandma Miller, which might be confusing, he may end up calling her "Grandma-me" or to make it easier, "Grammy".

Now that that is all sorted out, we turn to Pierce's parents.  I called my dad's parents, "Grandma and Grandpa from Florida".  So we decided that Miller will most likely refer to them as "Grandma and Grandpa from Wisconsin".  My next comment was that Wisconsin was probably quite a mouthful for a little one, and I wondered what it might turn in to.  When I asked Pierce if he knew, he thought that perhaps it would be "Consin".  This sounded logical to me.

Tonight I was sharing the conversation with my mother, who can't remember what happened yesterday but is brilliant when it comes to the past.  I told her that Miller would probably call Pierce's parents "Grandma and Grandpa from Wisconsin", and she said,  "Oh, The Sconsin".  "What is that?" I said.  She repeated, " The Sconsin, that's what you called it when you were little. "   And there you have it:  A moment of clarity and his grandparents' names.

Savannah Rose

This post is a little earlier than I intended, but I have been thinking about it a lot lately.  June 10th  last year was the first time we saw Miller and his twin, Savannah.  I remember going in for my egg transfer and taking the full bladder requirement, perhaps too literally.  By the time I was shuttled into the room where the RE inserted the catheter to bring my babies home, I felt that perhaps I would burst and shoot them across the room.  In recovery I was told to lie flat on my back for 30 minutes, and then the nurse would come get me for the restroom.  I laid there, writhing in pain, thinking I can't pee...I can't ruin this.  But then, I thought that was ridiculous because they were up high enough that certainly that couldn't happen.

After I unloaded my bladder and, of course, looked in the toilet, for I don't know what, we were headed home for four days of best rest.  After 5 days I had some bleeding and assumed the worst.  Two days later I was staring at the Holy Grail, a positive pregnancy test!  The next day I went for beta #1, and it was very good.  Beta #2 was even better, and the question was raised, 'Could they both have stuck?'

I would have to wait nearly a month to find out the answer.  When I went for my ultrasound FINALLY, the nurse was able to zoom in on Miller immediately.  He was the perfect size for just over 7 weeks and had a strong heartbeat, which we watched, heard, and then cried tears of joy!  She then asked if we had put more than one in, to which I replied, "yes, there were two."  She did some looking and quickly found a tiny little baby with a slower heartbeat.  I want to say, and maybe I should look back to my old posts, that Miller's heartbeat was 150-something, and the other baby's was 54.  She didn't say too much about the discrepancy but noted "twins" on my chart.  In meeting with the RE shortly thereafter, we learned that the prognosis for Twin B was not good, but Twin A was doing great.  All I could think was how happy I should be to finally be pregnant, but I was sad.

A week later I met with my OB, and her ultrasound tech was unable to find a heartbeat for Twin B.  I expected it, but I was crushed.  I also knew that I needed to be strong for  our surviving baby and didn't really give myself the opportunity to grieve.  Pierce and I decided, both without hesitation, that we needed to name our lost baby.  We also realized that in naming the baby that we would have to assign gender.  My grandmother's first reaction when we told her about the twins was that the big, healthy one was a boy, and the little helpless one was a girl.  That has stuck in my head to this day.

We always thought we would have a girl.  We thought Miller was a girl until the amnio told us otherwise, so we named his twin Savannah Rose.  We will never know for sure if she was a girl, and IVF procedures by nature tend to produce more boys.  I don't know this for a fact, but I have to assume that IVF with ICSI produces even more boys that traditional IVF.  Regardless, she will always be our lost little girl.  We miss her and love her and are glad she never suffered any pain.  Although her life was short, she will always be remembered in our hearts.  We hope that anyone who reads this, on June 10th, will light a candle and say a little prayer for our little one whose life was cut too short, our sweet Savannah Rose.

One Year, One Dream, One Love

Miller Christian 5/6/09

Miller Christian 5/10/10