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04/18/2004
Be scared. Be very a-scared.
I am scared to death of my upcoming IVF cycle in New York. In no particular order, here's what I'm up against:
- Even 28 days of birth control pills and 10 days of Lupron will not suffice to bully my ovaries into submission. My baseline scan will reveal a giant and malevolent cyst working quietly but relentlessly to foil my plans.
- 10 units of Lupron won't be enough. It will quickly become obvious that I should not have second-guessed the original prescription of 20 units. The cycle will be cancelled and it will be all my fault for getting uppity.
- I will make a joke, sotto voce, to a companion about the other desperate-looking women in the waiting room. Someone unsympathetic will overhear and either burst into loud sobs, streaking from the room, or fly at me in a burst of hormone-stoked fury, talons flashing. Once again my big mouth will get me into terrible trouble.
- My hotel room will have an unpleasant odor that will give me strange and upsetting dreams.
- When I present my credit card for payment for this cycle, I will be told the charge was declined. The card will be seized and snipped into small plastic shards — the better to injure myself with. With no ready credit, I will have to hitchhike home. When I offer a grimy trucker the use of my bloated body in exchange for passage, he will scoff in distaste, bringing his big rig to a squealing stop and depositing me unceremoniously by the side of the road.
- I will ovulate before retrieval.
- I will eat something weird in Chinatown — weirder than usual.
- The hotel will have cable, but only the stupid kind (CNN, the Weather Channel, and ESPN).
- All my shoes will prove unsuitable for city walking. I will develop enormous and aggressive blisters that quickly begin to fester, turn gangrenous, and require swift amputation of both legs below the knee. (At least I won't develop edema during pregnancy.)
- I will undergo days and days of expensive medication, physical discomfort, and daily prodding, only to have the cycle cancelled at the last minute. The subsequent IUI will be painful. Although I should know better, I will remain hopeful, because an IUI has worked for us in the past. Therefore I will be devastated and inconsolable when it fails.
- I will run into someone I used to know but didn't like.
- I will run into someone I used to know and did like. There will be great awkwardness as I try to explain why I didn't say I'd be in town, why I didn't make plans to meet, why I'm staying in a hotel instead of with friends. It will all go very badly. Through the diabolically efficient grapevine, all my friends will quickly hear how strangely I'm behaving. I will feel even lonelier and more isolated.
- The doctors will dislike me, and their antipathy will be unmistakable. I will hear them in the hallway making sardonic comments about my naked need for reassurance and my haphazard pubic grooming.
- I will rendezvous with friends I've known only via the Internet. Their smiles will freeze on their faces as they frantically think, "I didn't imagine she'd be like this." They will make unconvincing would you look at the time?! gestures and beat a hasty exit. A volley of e-mail will ensue in which they tell each other incredulously, "You wouldn't believe how flabby she is / the dumbass thing she said / the way she accidentally spit on me while she was talking / her clothes, my God, her clothes." I will be blissfully and moronically unaware — the better to feel the bitter sting of shame when I finally and inevitably figure it out.
- During retrieval I will be alert enough to feel intense pain, but not alert enough to complain about it.
- During retrieval I will look like Resusci-Annie. I will drool copious strings of ropy, adhesive saliva. My face will stick to the pillow of the gurney. It will make an unnerving Velcro sound as I pull it away.
- Only a small number of eggs will be retrieved. Only a small number of those will fertilize. An even smaller number of embryos will divide. Those will be unspeakably ugly. They will all arrest before transfer.
- This cycle won't work. There will be no easy explanation, as "everything looked good." No new information will come out of this cycle — just the theory that maybe it will work next time.
- We'll have to decide whether there will be a next time.
- This cycle will work. Initial blood tests will be positive, but my hCG level will be very low, and will begin falling almost immediately.
- Initial blood tests will be positive, but my hCG level will fail to double properly. After a harrowing period of uncertainty, the pregnancy will fail before a heartbeat is detected.
- My hCG will double appropriately. There will be a heartbeat. And then, next time we check, there won't.
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Oh, my sweet Julie. I think you may have covered the whole horrible shmeel, except that if you and I meet, I will not think any of the things you have listed above. I will think Oh My God, I am meeting the woman that stopped me from wanting to gouge my uterus out with a pair of nail scissors. I won't care if you spit on me (hell, I'll probably spit on you), I'm flabby too, and in person I say the stupidest things imaginable--I'm a terrible ditz, actually. It's only on paper I get "smart."
So, grrlie, this is what I want you to do: take a deep breath, say "I will deal with these things, if I need to, when the time comes, but for now, I am going to take it one eensy meensy step at a time." Because you, my dearest, are going to drive yourself into an Tasmanian IVF Frenzy, and you can't have that. Also, you've dealt with the very worse of all of this, and you got through that. You've seen it all already, and you've come out of it. And we'll help you. And I'll help you, in person, if you still want to get that bed cake.
If you're staying in the city, my mom has GREAT cable and empty rooms in her home.
I'm not even kidding - all you have to do is ask.
Oh, and I imagine the trucker will throw you out of the truck NOT because he doesn't want your body, but because he had hopes of impregnating you and could just tell he'd have to go through a whole lot more than just your usual trucker-sex thing, so...
Okay, NOW I think we have all the evil bases covered.
And that thing about the smell in the hotel room? I'M going to have nightmares now.
I can add one...
My husband will happily give his sample to the nurse, who will in turn drop the vial. Upon inspection, she'll see nothing wrong with the sample, and will spin it down as usual. Only when they take it out of the machine, there is no vial, but only thrown sperm and broken glass.
She'll then bring us into a special room with padded walls, and tell us the sperm was too contaminated to use. My husband will go postal on said nurse. The RE will be called, and he'll explain that this has never happened before. He'll ask if my husband can produce another sample within the hour. Husband says Mr., "I'm 42 years old. There is no chance of be being able to produce again under such stress."
I'll cry in my loving husband's arms for nearly an hour, while the nurse knocks on the door every 5 minutes to see if there's anything they can do.
I'll then get in the car, swollen with 5-8 mature follicles exploding about every half mile, and drive to Maine to attend my 1 year old neice's first birthday party. I'll stay outside in the yard (in the rain) with the dogs because there are 4 tiny babies, and 3 hugely pregnant women at the party that I'd rather not face. I cry all the way home.
(This was my IUI cycle #2)
Don't think that everytime he hands that special cup to the nurse, that he doesn't beg and plead that she be extra careful with it.
Julie, I'm right there with you.
OMG, I'm laughing and crying. I'm just in the midst of my first IVF cycle and I have all those fears plus more... my current one is that they stabbed my uterus repeatedly during my ER because my left ovary is behind my uterus and now it will be unable to sustain a pregnancy...
"I have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened." --Mark Twain
Of course, I realize that, in your case, some of them have already happened. Also, that the evidence suggests that Twain was kind of an asshole. Nevertheless, I hope that the amount of suffering you endure from what has not happened, will be minimal. xox
Oh, Julie. Talk about covering every twisted and sad angle. I hope that the one that you haven't listed happens:
Your cycle will be perfect. Your ovaries will be rip roaring ready to go. They will produce 6 follicles per ovary. All of equal size. They will grow at the absolutely perfect rate. At trigger, you will have 12 lovely follicles ready to go. Your retrieval will go off without a hitch and produce 12 lovely and perfectly mature eggs. They will fertilize perfectly and develop into lovely, unfragemented 8-cell embryos on day 3. Your transfer will be perfect. You will know by day 7 post transfer that you are in deed pregnant and have 2 strong lines on a FRED to prove it. Your beta will be strong and within range. You will see a strong heartbeat at 6w. You will be released to your OB very early on. You will know the joy and discomfort (sorry, I'm a realist) of a textbook pregnancy. You will buy every baby gadget known to man. You will deliver the most lovely and perfect of babies. You will all live happily ever after.
This is what I wish for you. Big hug, S.
Oh, Julie. Talk about covering every twisted and sad angle. I hope that the one that you haven't listed happens:
Your cycle will be perfect. Your ovaries will be rip roaring ready to go. They will produce 6 follicles per ovary. All of equal size. They will grow at the absolutely perfect rate. At trigger, you will have 12 lovely follicles ready to go. Your retrieval will go off without a hitch and produce 12 lovely and perfectly mature eggs. They will fertilize perfectly and develop into lovely, unfragemented 8-cell embryos on day 3. Your transfer will be perfect. You will know by day 7 post transfer that you are in deed pregnant and have 2 strong lines on a FRED to prove it. Your beta will be strong and within range. You will see a strong heartbeat at 6w. You will be released to your OB very early on. You will know the joy and discomfort (sorry, I'm a realist) of a textbook pregnancy. You will buy every baby gadget known to man. You will deliver the most lovely and perfect of babies. You will all live happily ever after.
This is what I wish for you. Big hug, S.
See, now, your brilliance is also your demise, Sweetheart. Dr. Mollie prescribes a swift blow to the head with a mallet.
Well, I know for myself, if I write all of the "and then THIS will happen..." evil scenarios down, it actually calms me, so I'm hoping it's the same for you. My husband will say, "stop rehearsing your [anger/fears/monologues from the 8th grade play]," but for me, it works sometimes, to name it all.
I've often wondered what it would be like if we all met someday. I think I am far more charming as a digital persona than I am in real-time, and that's not saying much. I am easily put off by affect and tone of voice and things like that; hence, I can't imagine starting a romance online and then meeting the guy in person. Could it work? Well, that being said, I'd love to meet you someday. You just wear those cute Gap jeans and keep your drooling to a minimum, and I'm sure it'll go fine.
Julie,
It will all go perfectly, because I say so.
I know that is a great comfort to you.
I'm very close to the city. I will be sending perfect-IVF-cycle vibes your way.
Love,
Mel
Usually I'm a lurker, but I do have one to add...
You see a heartbeat at 8 weeks and everyone tells you, "Only 5% miscarry after seeing a heartbeat" blah,blah, blah... Then you go back before your CVS (because your orefv at 11 weeks ious m/c had been caused by chromosonal abnormalities)to find out there is no heartbeat. To make matters worse, you find out on a Friday so you can't have the D & C until Monday. And guess what? Sunday is Mother's Day! So you celebrate M.D. with a non-living fetus in your body! Happy effing Mother's Day-- where's the white frosting with iced-pink roses cake?
This is what happened with my m/c #2...
Okay, that one sentence is as messed up as my story.
It should have said, I went in for my CVS at 11 weeks (because by previous m/c was caused by chromosonal abnormalities) to find out there was no heartbeat.
Then blah, Mother's day, blah, blah..
*Sigh*
you will eat nothing but yuumy food, everyone at the office will be cheery and nice, you will become best friends with the other ladies int he waiting room, you will have a textbook A1 cycle and your biggest problem will be wheter you want to know the sex of the twins and you will forget all about us and join a group of happening mommies somewhere else on the blogo-sphere.
I wish all this, except the last one, because we coudlnt' live without you!
Well, for the walking shoes, I would recommend Arche. There's a shop on 57th St. between either 6th and 7th or 7th and 8th, and another on Madison in the high 70's.
Always expect the worst, and then you'll be pleasantly surprised when anything else happens.... that's my motto, too!
Wishing you many pleasant surprises for this cycle.
Just remember you are mighty, mighty, and that you literally have a batallion of women who will be praying for you, rooting for you, cheering you on, and sneering with you at all the stupid behavior you may encounter in the coming days, weeks...However long it takes for the universe to realize what a cruel dumbass it has been with you and that it needs to cut it out!
Does fate really want to mess with all of us?
From one of your also-flabby fans,
Menita
Here is a good story:
I will get pregnant after TTC since 1997. Have a perfect amnio. I will be 5 months pregnant. I will go to the birth of very close friend. Four days later I will be admitted to hospital with PTL and incompetant cervix (even though I had a cerclage placed at 12 weeks).
I will pray and make bargains with God for a week. Promise Him anything/everything.Then you will deliver your son. He will die. Then your uterus will be ruined during his delivery and you will never be able to carry another baby and must rely on a surrogate to do the transfer part of your IVF cycles after you do the stim/egg retreival part. Of course this doesn't work either....yet.
(This is what happend with my 2nd pregnancy--1st preg m/s @8 weeks).
Julie--Cornell has a great reputation. GOod LUck!
Laura
Oops. I meant 1st preg m/c @ 8 weeks.
Laura
Thank you Julie. I mean it. You just about covered my whole anxiety attack at 12:30 last night.(ie: at least I wasn't alone in my freak-out. Maybe we had some telepathic-thang goin on?)I have an appt with my RE today "to discuss,plot & plan" at 3:15 and.....well....I freaked. I mean, seriously freaked. It hit me that I'm nearing the front of the line to hop on the quadruple-loop-upside-down-lock-in-IVF-rollercoaster and that in a way, I want to jump out of the line, but at the same time, I really, really want to get on, but am afraid that the damn ride will break down somewhere in the middle of my trip OR, worst case scenario, when the ride is over, I realize it wasn't what I thought it would be (failure). Yes, I realize that my PMS isn't helping matters any.
I really am so grateful to have all of you, because now matter how many mind fucks you do on yourself leading up to and during the process, there are others that KNOW EXACTLY what you're going through.(meaning that you aren't REALLY insane, just temporarily hormonally imbalanced)
I hope that S. is right though. I really, really do. Meanwhile..... I am sure you will have some really good waiting room stories for us. Just remember....TAKE YOUR OWN READING MATERIAL.(I know its Cornell and all, but..you never know. Some dumbass might have left a baby mag lying around!))
Tazmanian IVF Frenzy. Karen, I really like that. A lot. A WHOLE lot. Thank you.
Brenda S. - holy shit. (I know what you mean about hanging with the dogs in the rain tho!)My husband is always afraid his stuff won't be "enough". I reply with the typical rejoinder "but it only takes ONE". (payback's a bitch, ain't it?)
Laura - aw hon, that's horrible.
LOL Julie, I am in the same place as you. I am also having my own little panic attack. Similar to yours. Even down the crap dreams. Wrote about this in my blog this morning.
Added to your list would be:
Get pg but have to spend entire pg in hospital on bedrest due to cervix inadequacies
Get pg but uterus ruptures due to c section performed 4 months prior. (this is my latest paranoia)
And lastly, almost to horrible to mention…. Actually can’t even verbalize it.
I always found comfort in worry lists. If I think of it, it won't happen, right? If you are staying in Helmsley, it smells fine, but I'm afraid cable was a bit basic last time I was there.
Let that be the worst of your fears to come true!
Tertia,
Yeah.........better not say it out loud.
Laura
I don't think I've ever "met" anyone as talented as you. Who knew there was that much worry involved in just getting pregnant? **sneering with contempt at those whose only fear regarding getting pregnant involves forgetting a birth control pill**
Laura, I am so sorry. I am really very sorry...I don't even know what to say. Crying for you, even though that doesn't help. Lots of love to you.
Awww, Julie, there are LOTS of other things to worry about in New York.
What if you still can't get tickets to The Producers?
Wishing you the best of all possible luck in this cycle... the very very best.
On some level I know I shouldn't be laughing, but thank you, dear Zhulee, for giving me some giggles tonight. I don't have anywhere near as tragic stories as you ladies, but since right now I'm only concerned about keeping my husband alive and sane long enough for him to become a father again....
AN UPDATE FROM ME:
Saw Doc yesterday. Switching things around a bit.. again. Back on the Puregon and I'm reeling that he's planning on injecting me with about 40,000IU of Puregon over the course of 10 days or so! YIKERS! sonofabiscuit! Hopefully he will use less, cause I'm SUPERSENSITIVE to the puregon. u-g-h. Good news is that I don't have to do the daily downreg for ages. He's just going to monitor my LH more closely and if it starts "acting up" there's an injection (new) that he can give me that will bring it down immediately for 48 hours. So he said there is the possibility of having a couple of those, which ain't bad at all.(just please god don't let it be in OIL! that's the WORST kinda injection anyone can get) -yes, I was too chicken to ask - (The thing that sukz is that Puregon is DOUBLE the cost of Gonal here!)*shudder, twitch* Que sera sera. He's cutting me a bit of a discount on the IVF packge tho.... a BIT- since I've gone and screwed up his record of 3 tries or less (happy-NOT!- to oblige!) For the record, yes, I did end up getting a bit snippy with him, BUT HE STARTED IT. I just wasn't in the mood for his occasional flippant comments and (lucky for him) he realized that pretty much in the beginning.
Anyhoo... I'm not starting this cycle, but next AF visit. So my injections should start tentatvely on May 22-ish.
Now, now, no more stinky winky thinky! Your IVF will be flawless and successful. Those doctors at Cornell are highly trained and brilliant! And you will have a marvelous time in NYC, and make wonderful live friends! That hotel fragrance is just leftover "magic baby dust" from an eager, anxious prior tenant, that's all. Lalala...
OLIVIA! aka "the Optimism Fairy". Whoa woman, you killed me. Ypu said the 'forbidden phrase'...... BABY DUST.
For all of you anxiously awaiting my blog (hahahahaha),it's almost done. Just a bit of fine tuning. I'll post y'all my blog add when it's running (cause it's only up at this point!)
Ta darlings.
tra lalalalalalalala tra la la la la.(oh yes, som of us have ingested a wee bit too much sugar today.)
OH-MY-GOD!!!!!!!!!!!! I actually managed to misspell SOME!
Shit. Shit. Shit.(yes, definetly too much sugar)
*snicker* Cyn, that wasn't me, You must have mistaken me with my evil sidekick, Optimism Fairy. She's a ranky little bitch. I am fairly certain she's been hanging around Julia's Hope Addict. I knew I shouldn't have let her use my computer.
Baby Dust? Me? Never, lest in jest. But doesn't the visual of a 40-ish man with half his original teeth and a greaseball hairdo waving HIS "magic wand" around make a much funnier, albeit disturbing version of that corny phrase than a pre-pubescent fairy in glitter tights shaking a mystic powder over the perfectly coiffed heads of the Fertiles? I laughed. But then I am disturbed.
Another to add:
You have had a miscarriage, or 2, or more... therefore,
You are pregnant and everytime you go to wipe you look for blood (as if it's a noraml thing). People tell you not to worry if the blood is blushing red, fushia pink, cocoa brown, warm toast beige, etc... Afterall, baby dust is fertile superglue.
or
You are pregnant and your beta is rising but you still read Julie's story about her beta falling over and over again waiting for it to happen to you.
God help me, I don't know how some of you ladies manage to hang on. I didn't even know some of those things could happen...
I'll add my own, comparatively harmless story:
You get a faint positive pregnancy test the day before your beta; in the same toilet session, you get some bright red spotting. Concerned, you call the doctor. Come in right away, they say.
Your initial hCG level is 12. Uh-oh. Possible chemical pregnancy. Come back tomorrow and we'll see what it does.
Next day it's 17.5. There's still hope.
Over the weekend (did I mention this is Easter weekend?) you have the worst, most explosive period of your life. Tissue chunks, foaming red blood, everything. Well, you think, at least it's over.
Go back to the doctor on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Even as you throw away soaked maxipad after soaked maxipad, your hCG climbs to 422. Oh God, it's not over. Oh God, it's probably in the tube.
Ultrasound the next Monday: Good God, it's actually in the uterus. How the hell did it survive? Who knows? Jubilation ensues.
Tuesday morning: wake up in a pool of bright red blood and, for good measure, even more tissue clots.
How does this end? I have no idea. I'm going in for my 200th or so ultrasound tomorrow. This is only at 5w 4d, but it sure feels like nine months.
These stories are just...well, there you are.
Sonetka - Oh honey. What a HELL you are going through. A nightmarish hell. Please keep us updated (ok, ME) cause I will probably be thinking about you and worrying till I hear one way or the other.
Olivia, I bow (forehead scraping the floor here!) to your creative genius. Only problem is....I've got a prety fertile imagination (and obviouisly thats about ALL that's fertile about me!)so I basically have a COMPLETE VISUAL on your baby dust fairy now. UGH. Actually, the description is a lot like a manager I had once upon a time when I was waitressing in college.
Um Liz - DITTO babe.
um, back to my comment yesterday when I was HIGH ON SUGAR.... I made a teensy-weensy typo. erm, it isn't 40,000 units of Puregon but 4,000IU of Puregon. Damn Sticky zero button.Either that or my math is seriously fucked. (which is entirely possible) lets see 300-400IU (say 400) per day for 12 days and then2 days of 200IU. Was I right-ish? 5200IU, right? Well fuck me.Thats still a lot of goddamn drugs, if you ask me. To keep up with my hormonal moodswings and other IVF torture/drama please note that:
I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!!!!!!!
Here's my blog address: www.scarlettshaven.blogspot.com
(and Julie, I can hear your sigh of relief all the way over here ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DAMN PLANET!!!!) I love ya tho babe.
You are all most welcome to come on over. (Excecpt for Heidi the bible-thumper)Tkae your shoes off, have a seat, and make yourself comfy. Feel free to go through the fridge if you like. Me casa es su casa!
<< There. I think that about covers it — unless you can think of something I'm missing...? >>
How about: all goes well, you give birth to a healthy baby, and you spend the rest of your life worrying about SIDS, and cancer, and child molesters, and school shootings, and STDs, and drunk drivers, and kidnappers, and mass murderers, and stalkers... Is it inappropriate to say hope you get the opportunity to fully embrace all of those worries? :-)
Cyn - thanks so much, but alas, it doesn't look good. I started bleeding again this morning, and my ultrasound showed that the embryo was still there, however...it's still exactly the same size it was last time. I guess I'm not terribly surprised - it was such a rocky beginning that I don't think the embryo can have been entirely normal (not that I'm any less tied up in it, if you know what I mean). They're going to wait until next Monday to give a final verdict - after all, my last few experiences, we've held out "just in case" and "just in case" came true. Not sure that the peanut can make it over this last jump, though. Damn, damn, damn.
Oh, and did I mention that my birthday is this Saturday? A quiet, just-me-and-spouse celebration this time. I'm afraid of breaking into pieces in front of my friends.
Oh, Sonetka.
I am so sorry.
Knowing from the start that it might not work out (low beta, slow rise, etc.) doesn't cushion us in any way we still get attached. It still hurts just as much.
Thank you so much, Julie - you're right - there's no cushion, just raw blood. I suppose theoretically I should be at least a little jazzed that at least now I know I can get pregnant by IUI, but all I can think about right now is what the baby would have been like if the egg had just done things a fraction differently.
And there's a sneaky, selfish feeling in there as well, re the injections and so forth. "But it *worked* already! Why am I doing it again?"
I think I'll lie down with some tea. There's a bottle of vodka in the fridge but I'm home alone and don't entirely trust myself with it yet. Besides...it's still in there. Probably dead, but I don't want to pouring alcohol over its remains. Life is strange.
Sonetka,
I am so sorry... really sorry to hear you are going through this right now.
Sonetka - sorry just never seems to cut it. This total stranger has you on the brain...a LOT.
Sonetka,
Even my most heartfelt sorry won't do near enough good, but here it is anyway.You and your family are in my thoughts.
Sonetka,
It's the not knowing and the waiting that kill us, I think. You're in my thoughts. I'm so very sorry.
Sonetka, we share a birthday. I'll be thinking of you Saturday--sending you loving thoughts, and (if effort counts) trying to syphon off some of your heartbreak. I wish you peace.
Sonetka,
I am so so sorry. I am not even sure how to fully express how sorrowful I feel for what you are going through. I am thinking about you.
Goodness me. See there Sonetka? You have the best (and a very caring)group of cheerleaders anyone could ever want. I wish with all my heart though that you didn't need our prayers and understanding. Good on you you're playing your B-day low-key. At least by Monday you will know whether you can put a crazy straw in that nice cool bottle of vodka or not. ( I really hope your crazy straw gathers dust)
Oh, I almost forgot. Happy Birthday to Sonetka and Jillbur on Saturday. I hope your birthday wishes come true for you both this year.
Love, Cyn
Oh my lord - thank you so much, guys :). I'm feeling...calmer - I don't think better is the right word, but much more willing to think about how maybe the *next* one might do it and...well, we all know the drill here. But I can't say thank you enough, every single one of you - it means an awful lot to see that. I've lurked (and occasionally commented) for a while now, and I'm thinking about all of you guys just as much.
Jilbur - I hope you have a really good (mutual) birthday. And for siphoning; please do, but not too much - there's no sense in ruining two days. Cyn - long may the straw be dusty, but I'm setting it out anyway. Be prepared, and all that.
Julie - many apologies for hijacking your thread. Once I get my current LJ account fixed up I can do all this on my own webspace...
I LOVE your blog. You are a terrific writer.
Your experience is the opposite as mine. I was too young to become a mom, or at least not ready, and I have struggled tremendously. I value your insight and I hope that all of your fears (while brilliantly written) will not come to pass. I will continue to read your posts, because I am inspired. ~Elisa
I LOVE your blog. You are a terrific writer.
Your experience is the opposite as mine. I was too young to become a mom, or at least not ready, and I have struggled tremendously. I value your insight and I hope that all of your fears (while brilliantly written) will not come to pass. I will continue to read your posts, because I am inspired. ~Elisa