CD 13 – October 2015

Today is the 13th day of my cycle … aaannnndddd that’s all I know!

This has been a hell of a week for me, and it’s only Thursday! As far as my emotions are concerned, to say that they’ve been through the wringer during the course of the last seven days would be putting it mildly. Some of my feelings have stemmed from TTC related matters, but I’d have to say that the vast majority of them don’t involve TTC whatsoever.

The biggest emotional bomb came last Friday in the words of a very sweet, Elmer Fudd looking doctor named Dr Hall. As many of you know, my son John is rather developmentally delayed. At the ripe old age of 2 years old, Bubby’s vocabulary consists of a total of around five words, most of which wouldn’t be understood by strangers. We’ve had him in Speech, Occupational, and ABA Therapies with Early Childhood Intervention (ECI) for many months now, trying desperately to unlock John’s communicational milestones. While he has made some steps in the right direction, his progress has been moving at a snail’s pace to put it nicely. And it’s not ECI’s fault, either – I have to say that I have had no problems or issues from ECI, and I would recommend them to anyone who’s kiddos are a little behind.

Back in July, John’s regular pediatrician put in a referral to have Bubby seen and evaluated by a developmental pediatrician, since his delays were not improving; if anything they had gotten a little worse. The office called to schedule the appointment, and they literally had no available appointments until July 19th of NEXT YEAR! I broke down in tears. So you mean my baby was over a year behind his peers and they expected me to allow him to fall another year behind because they were under-staffed? Yeah – NOT gonna happen. Long story short, I made a nuisance of myself and finally go to the right person. While they were able to find me an appointment in April of 2016 (still unacceptable, but better than July), she also said that she’d keep my number handy and call me if they had any openings. (To be perfectly honest, I fully believed that she only said that to shut me up.) Well, I was wrong. She called me last Thursday at around 3:00 in the afternoon, with an opening the next morning at 8:30. I said “I’ll take it!”

Since it was so last minute, Matt wasn’t able to make it but my Mother came with John and I instead. The doctor was a very sweet man, and after thoroughly reviewing John’s medical records, interacting with Bubby one-on-one, and talking with Mom and I at length, he was finally ready to give me a diagnosis for John’s developmental delays. With a single word, Dr Hall stole the breath right out of my lungs.

My beautiful baby boy is autistic.
My beautiful baby boy is autistic.

I knew in my heart that John was autistic before Dr Hall said it – but I have to say that actually hearing it makes it all the more “real.” So we step up his therapies (taking him from 1 to 10+ hours of Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) Therapy) and we do what we can to help him reach his potential. I spent the next 2 days in and out of tears, experiencing every emotion you could think of. Just this news alone has sky-rocketed my already busy schedule into a whole new break-neck pace. Because my life wasn’t crazy enough, right?

I think it was!
I think it was!

Shortly after the atomic bomb of John’s diagnosis came hurtling towards us at warp speed, my Mother loaded me up in the car, paid for John to spend the afternoon at the sitter’s, and took me for a pedicure in celebration of my birthday! I turned 33 on the 6th of October, so Mom decided that I needed some time away from everything to just focus on ME … and I’m so glad she did! It was wonderful! I sat there for over an hour while the lady pampered my feet and legs. Heavenly doesn’t even scratch the surface!

Sometimes ya just need to be spoiled!
Sometimes ya just need to be spoiled!

I spent the rest of the week going back and forth between doctor’s visits (had a mole removed from my leg that required 3 stitches), and therapies for John. Busy, busy, busy. The second bomb of the week came in the form of wonderful news from one of my besties.

My 3 BFFs and I use an app called Viber to message back and forth, since one of us is from New Zealand and traditional texting is out of the question. A few months ago, friend #1 finds out she is expecting from one unprotected roll in the hay with her hubby in celebration of their decision to NTNP before actually beginning the TTC process – whoops!!! (We just found out she’s having a baby girl, BTW!) Around a month later, and friend #2 pops up pregnant; this baby is a complete, yet very welcomed surprise! Friend #3 has been TTC for 3 months now, and having a LP defect after coming off birth control this time, started progesterone this cycle. When I woke up yesterday morning, I had 38 messages awaiting me. One of the very first messages I saw was a HPT – that was definitely a BFP!!

Faint, but definitely there!
Faint, but definitely there!

How exciting! She was a bit worried since they were so faint, so she POAS again this morning. She had gotten a BFN on a digital later in the day yesterday, so she got some traditional FRERs to POAS with last night and this morning.

Um, yes. I'd definitely say her eggo is preggo!
Um, yes. I’d definitely say her eggo is preggo!

I was ecstatic for her and her DH! How wonderful! And then it hit me … I am once again the Lone “Un-Knocked-Up” Ranger. I have once again, sat idly by and watched nearly every single one of my best friends become pregnant while I’m still here twiddling my thumbs. And don’t misunderstand; it isn’t that I’m not happy for her – for all of my friends – it just drives home how horribly my body really hates me. But herein lies the silver lining; I got news today that my insurance approved my referral to see the Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) who is a no kidding fertility specialist! I have to meet with a financial advisor before they’ll schedule my appointment, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.

So this week has been a roller coaster of ups and downs, good news and not-so-good news. But all in all, I guess I can’t (or shouldn’t) complain too loudly. We know where to go with John’s therapies to help him progress, and I’ll finally be able to meet with an honest to God infertility specialist for the first time ever. I’m trying desperately to find the light at the end of the tunnel – I just hope it’s the end of the tunnel and not another train!

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