After spending some time admiring my chart today (lovely temps and a clearly strong progesterone response, which is indicative of a strong ovulation), I started feeling a wee bit antsy. I mean, I know that 4 dpo is too early for symptoms, for implantation, for much of anything. But I have such a strongly positive feeling (which I've probably just jinxed) that I wanted to do something. Something other than over-analyze the soreness of my boobs and compare symptoms with previous cycles as if there were some sort of discernible pattern there.
I admit it. I went web surfing.
I reaped what I sowed. It was painful, galling, puzzling, laughable and head-shake/eye-roll worthy.
So. In the interests of clearing up some confusion (and firmly reminding myself of things I already know), allow me to go over some basics.
Implantation
This occurs when the blastocyst attaches to the endometrial lining. This is often a long process. Typically it occurs between 6 and 10 dpo, on rare occasions, possibly as early as 5 dpo or as late as 12 dpo. There is some theory that earlier or later implantations are linked to a higher rate of early miscarriage, though whether that is because the embryo was slow due to developmental problems and therefore abnormal to begin with or whether it is due to a less hospitable environment (by 12 dpo, many women no longer have the progesterone support they need and the uterine lining is beginning to break down) is unclear.
Things to note about implantation:
-You will not experience pregnancy symptoms before implantation occurs (more below).
-Some women experience spotting or bleeding when implantation occurs - but most don't. Spotting or bleeding can happen for a variety of reasons, and is generally unrelated to implantation. Hormonal shifts, abrupt decrease in progesterone or estrogen, a more sensitive cervix being bumped . . . lots of reasons. Don't worry if you don't see implantation bleeding, don't get overly excited (or concerned) if you do.
-Ditto implantation dips. This is when your temperature dips .3 or more and then rises to higher luteal phase levels, typically seen between 7 and 10 dpo. While dips of this nature are seen a bit more often in pregnancy charts, they are not exactly uncommon in ovulatory only charts. In fact, I have an absolutely gorgeous example of an 'implantation' dip in one of my decidedly non-pregnant charts. Likewise, many women do not ever see such a dip and are definitely pregnant. So if it's not there, don't fret, and if it is there, don't do what I did and spend a lot of time cooing over it - it may or may not be real.
-Implantation cramping is not likely something you will feel. Not only does the process take hours into days (and frankly, is ongoing weeks into your pregnancy), but we're talking about something that is microscopic in size attaching to a thick, nerveless bit of tissue. Cramps happen through the luteal phase for a variety of reasons; I often think we simply notice them more because we are looking for signs. And yes, yes I did in fact write my husband twice today to tell him I felt crampy. What?
Symptoms - and their causes
Many people, myself included, spend a lot of time overanalyzing their bodily functions in search of determining what symptoms they are feeling and attempting to ascribe meaning to it. Sadly, one quick google search for your symptom du jour will undoubtedly inform you that it is normal/usual/found in both pregnant and non-pregnant women.
Here's are the important things to note:
-Symptoms caused by pregnancy will not be caused before implantation begins; this is because the chemicals causing these symptoms are not produced before then, or at least not produced in sufficient enough quantities before then, to cause symptoms. So whatever you think you are feeling at 4 dpo is a happy coincidence if you happen to be pregnant. Don't believe me? Well, go take a look at FF charts and compare charts for the same person. You'll find the same symptoms cropping up over time.
-Many early pregnancy symptoms are indistinguishable from non-pregnant/PMS symptoms. That's because of the above, but also because the symptoms are both caused by the same hormone: Progesterone. Progesterone is the dominant hormone in the luteal phase; it is responsible for the temperature increase that marks ovulation and for making the uterine lining spongy and receptive to an implanting blastocyst. The following are especially linked to progesterone:
*Sore/tender breasts
*Increased size/mass of breasts
*Fatigue/lethargy/tiredness
*Digestive problems (including constipation, feelings of fullness, and sometimes heartburn - this is because of the relaxant effect progesterone has on muscles)
*Emotional turmoil (manifesting differently for everyone, and sometimes merely a byproduct of fluctuating hormones generally)
Hmmmmm. Do you see a pattern there? I do too - those are all common early pregnancy symptoms. Now the reason for this is that if you are pregnant, then the hormone hcg (the pregnancy hormone) kicks in after implantation and tells the corpus luteam to continue producing progesterone. Progesterone will increase during pregnancy, produced by the corpus luteam, until the placenta is developed enough to begin producing progesterone itself. When that happens, the levels tend to stabilize rather than continue to increase and pregnancy seems more stable at that point for many women. There is some speculation that the higher levels of progesterone mid-luteal phase (when progesterone peaks in a non-pregnant cycle) and again in pregnancy can affect some women by causing nausea. Just a note. . .
- I'm sure you, like me, have noted your symptoms and have some fail-safe notes to compare to. For instance, I tend to start having sore boobs around 4 dpo (when progesterone is fully established) and they tend to fade by 9/10 dpo in a non-pregnant cycle, or get worse in a pregnant cycle. One of the obvious signs of the last chemical pregnancy was going from 'dear GOD do not TOUCH them' to 'huh, achey.' That's cool and all - clearly I do it too - but remember to take it all with a grain of salt. Not only is every cycle unique, but your hormone profile can always be affected by something, making a symptom more than it is.
Ovulation, OPKs and DPO
Look, charting isn't for everyone and not everyone is inclined (or can afford) to use OPK's (especially my pricey preferred brand). I get that. I'm cool with that. But if you don't know when you ovulated by some means other than a website calendar, I'm going to be sceptical. And likely suggest you wait until you are past your longest cycle length to test - for a few good reasons. Unless you were charting or using opk's (or are familiar enough with your body to know what EWCM is and what your typical luteal phase is), you have no idea when or if you ovulated. Your symptoms don't mean much and it can cause a lot of heartache and aggravation to waste tests by testing a week too early, or conversely, being 'late' and getting negatives.
Additional notes on ovulation day, OPKs, and dpo:
-Ovulation cramps are useful for identifying a general timeframe for ovulation, but not a specific one. This is because ovulation cramps can take place anytime before, during and after ovulation. They can be caused by developing follicles competing for space in your ovaries, by the oocyte bursting through the follicle, by fluid build up in your ovaries, by fluid being released around your ovaries and irritating your abdominal cavity, and by the corpus luteam cyst that is left behind. A general guide to help you time sex (provided you consistently note ovulatory pain in advance of or in conjunction with + OPKs and charted temp shifts), sure. An accurate pinpointing of ovulation - meh.
-OPKs can be hard to read. Which is why I like the digitals (even though I still read the lines even though they say not to - I'm practiced at it after 3 years though). If digitals aren't your thing, then please remember that an OPK has to display a test line that is equal to or darker than the control line to be positive. Close enough isn't positive. Equal to or darker than. Additionally, luteinizing hormone (lh - the hormone that is being tested) synthesizes in your body in the morning; thus, you will get the most accurate reading in the afternoon. But you do need concentrated urine. If you can't hold your urine for 3-4 hours, then use them first thing in the morning. But if you aren't getting accurate readings or seeing a positive, consider testing twice a day. Some women experience long surges, some don't. I generally only see 2 day surges if I test multiple times per day and happen to catch the beginning of the surge and test through to the end.
-OPKs are a snapshot of lh. Surges can last anywhere from 12 to 48 hours. Please note: Getting a + OPK doesn't mean you are ovulating that day. You could be - as I said, if you catch a surge on the tail end, it's possible you will ovulate later that day. But typically, ovulation occurs 24-36 hours after the surge (the published times, given that you don't often know what part of the surge you capture is ovulation occurring 12-48 hours after a + OPK). FF assumes ovulation the day after a + OPK or Peak on CBEFM - that's a generally safe assumption.
-DPO, or days past ovulation. Ok, sigh. I read a thing today somewhere or other where the woman wrote out her 2ww symptoms, and started by informing the reader that she had + OPKs and ovulatory pain 2 dpo. The thing is. . . if you haven't ovulation, you can't be any days past ovulation. So. . . yeah. Sigh.
-DPO can be important. A day or two off (technically, charting is only accurate to +/- 3 days!) isn't necessarily a big deal unless you are an early tester. If you are - and god knows I am - then be realistic. No matter what you see on the internets, you will not get a positive hpt at 4 dpo. Or 5 dpo. Or, really, 6 or 7 dpo most likely. Frankly, the odds are really low on seeing them before 10 dpo, not that that has ever stopped me (and frankly, given that my most successful pregnancies have all tested positive by 10 dpo, I'm a bit superstitious about this in a completely illogical and freely admitted way). The thing is - implantation normally happens between 6 (six) and 10 (ten) dpo. And once implantation occurs, hcg begins to be produced. While hcg increases rapidly in early pregnancy (expected to double once every 48 hours or so), it takes some time to be produced in sufficient enough quantities to be detectable via bloodstream (earliest) and urine (a bit later). Early pregnancy tests are good for picking up low levels of hcg, but it can't pick up what isn't there, and even if you implant on 6 dpo, the odds of there being enough detectable hcg to register visibly on a pregnancy test are low. Does it happen? Yeah! Is it likely? No! Does it stop me? No! I'm just saying, don't expect a positive hpt at 8 dpo - it's unrealistic.
Early Pregnancy Testing
I'm the queen. I can go on at length, but I'll spare you. I'm a big fan of early testing because I would rather know as soon as possible. Healthy or wise? Meh. Probably not. But, that's me. I'm not really bothered by BFN's at this point, though faint lines drive me a little (or a lot) insane. It's an individual choice and there isn't a right or wrong answer.
However:
-Get early pregnancy tests if you are going to test. Digitals have come a long way since I started ttc, but they are still a bit less sensitive. I wouldn't use these before 10 dpo, personally. FR are generally a good choice, but there are some reports of evaps out there. Cheapies are often a good choice for early testing because your chances of positives are lower and it feels less wasteful. However, it's worth noting that internet cheapies and $tree are frequently dinged for producing evap lines and for only providing faint lines even after clear positives are found on other brands. Caveat Emptor here, folks.
-OPKs as HPTs - yeah. It can be done. I've done it. But generally speaking, you'll already have clear positives and a digital before it shows up, so I wouldn't use this as anything other than kind of a cool thing. The reason for this is that OPKs are testing for a threshold level of lh/hcg - it doesn't turn positive until you have at least X amount of the hormone. So you could get some wonky results and if it's just stressing you out - take a pregnancy test.
-Line comparison. Again, something I do. I've found that typically tests will get darker the further into pregnancy you get into pregnancy and the higher hcg gets. However, there are a lot of factors that go into the line darkness including: amount of urine used, the concentration of the urine, the amount of dye in the test, the manufacture date of the test, etc. I've taken tests from different boxes and gotten clear positives and super faint lines. I've taken tests of different brands from the same cup of urine and had a line as dark as a control line and a really faint line. Try not to compare - I know, I do it too - but try not to. If you have reason to need to know, call your doc for a beta. Lately, I've not made it to beta; and if you get consistently fading tests, well, that can be a bad sign. But it's not conclusive. Only a quantative beta is.
-Evap Lines/Lines after time limit. Right, so my experience is that it is rare for an evap line to appear during the testing time frame. It's happened before, but close examination generally reveals it to be an indentation, rather than a real evap. Don't go back to a test. Call the test during the testing timeframe and stick with it. Even if it's got a clearly visible line fifteen minutes or an hour later. It's still negative. Certainly sometimes those faint lines you call negative will develop in a day or two into clear positives. That doesn't make the old tests positive. A line can show up later for a lot of reasons, and it usually isn't because of pregnancy. The hormones being tested for dissolve really quickly - that's why pregnancy tests are called rapid assay tests and have time limits to begin with. After that, the strip where the antibodies were can attract dye or the indentation from where the antibody strip was (or the area on either side) can collect dye and give the appearance of a positive. Likewise, disturbing the test by removing the casing can cause the test to dry oddly and create the appearance of a line that isn't a true positive.
I . . . think that covers everything I saw today. I know it's long. I know I'm guilty of falling prey to several of these things. And ultimately - go do your thing. No one need answer to me. But man . . . I needed to get that off my chest! If it helps, well, there is the benefit of approaching year 4 of ttc and extensive study before hand. Cheers.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Happy Mother's Day, I guess
It's not that I don't wish for people to have a happy day. I only just sort of remembered myself. We always sort of said that we wouldn't celebrate Mother's/Father's Day, beyond maybe a nice card or something, and now, well. I'm good, thanks.
Actually, this year isn't so bad. I've been busy - I know, I say that every post now. Still, it's the sort of business that makes me wonder just what in the hell I was doing before when I thought I was busy. Spring has passed very quickly - blink of eye fast - and I have a feeling the summer will be the same. But because of events and bustle, despite the frequent reminders from tv, I kind of forgot that Mother's Day was approaching.
Sorry, Mom. I'm sending flowers, I swear. And calling, once I get the phone recharged.
Last year was bad. Last year I was wallowing, and it was made worse when my brother decided brilliantly to set up a conference call with my mom. It made her happy, but interrupted a crying jag, and I was sullen and surly because I just wanted to be left alone. Then I felt horribly guilty. Not a fun day.
So indifference is fine my me. I'm hopeful that there will be enough people celebrating that we will find the grocery store a bit more empty than usual. Beyond that, I intend to bask in the glory of the remaining weekend, because work next week is going to suck - budget development is open for fiscal year 12. I helped last year, but I've never been fully responsible for budget development of a unit. Let alone budget development of 2 units, one of which is fucking massive. And naturally, I cleared my calendar so that I can assist with other units in the division as needed.
Anyway - work is work. Things are a lot better for me than they were six months ago. I'm more settled, and I'm getting things on track with my departments. It's a struggle some days, believe me, but I'm feeling a lot more confident about work than I was a few months ago. Of course, my two close colleagues (one my supervisor) have both been promoted since my old boss left, and we're still short staffed, but it's been better for me. I work more naturally with them, and it's a relief, if you will; doesn't feel like the constant struggle and inability to do the right thing it did with my old boss.
I didn't apply for my supervisor's old job though - we had a long conversation about it, and everyone seemed to assume I would. I suppose in some ways it made sense, and we certainly hoped that other DBAs would (since we're the ones losing our jobs in centralization . . .) but no one did. Several people approached me after the fact and asked why I didn't apply, but it was simple. I approached both my new bosses and said "What do you think? Here's what I think. It's not a good time." I laid out my reasons - we'd have to find someone to cover my departments and they'd go through another year of turbulence. I was only just finding my feet, and I thought I served these special departments well and like what I'm doing. I'd only been in a department for a few months, and I thought it would be better if someone who'd been in a department for awhile took the job. I thought it would be better for another DBA to apply since it would mean one less position to RIF (though that didn't happen). And I didn't want it to look like my boss was just promoting her friends. Of course there would be an open search and everything, but there is always a sort of lingering doubt when that happens. We talked it over and we all felt comfortable with me not applying. Instead, I joined the search committee.
Let me just say - I learned something about myself during this stretch. I learned I do not like reading job applications, cover letters or resumes. And I have high standards and make fun of people who cannot fill these things out correctly. Seriously - if you can't proofread your job application, you can't work with me. Blog posts, message board posts, tweets - yeah, typos happen, poor grammar crops up. But a formal cover letter? I'll give just one example: don't tell me you are excellent in oral and written communication, then proceed to write an entire paragraph of incomplete sentences.
Oy.
In the end though, I think we found a good applicant. It was an odd experience, because this person will be in a higher position than me, but realistically, I've been pulled into a lot of plans and know a whole lot about what is going to be happening. It'll be a bit odd, really, but I knew this person would be a good fit when she cracked a joke during her interview. Hopefully she'll be here around the beginning of June, and then we'll really get things going.
What else? Well, the March for Babies walk happened last weekend. I didn't write much going in or just after. It was really because, well, I didn't want to do it. I was feeling - and still am feeling - a whole lot of ambivalence about it. It's not that it's not a good cause (though I trust that less than I did when I started, thanks to the entire Makena debacle), it's just that I wasn't sure how I felt going into it. And I talked myself into doing it and hoped it would be a good thing, and it didn't work out for me that way, in the end. If you'd like to read more about that, I've got a post up on Glow in the Woods on the main page that details the struggle I had. I debated about posting it for awhile, given that I'd not even talked about it here. But in the end, well, it didn't feel good to me, or happy, or healing. And that's ok. It didn't necessarily have to. For all of that, I will probably do it again next year. Only I will take a much more realistic view of it and not look to get anything more out of it than I think it can give.
In other news - this having become some sort of round up post, apparently - I'm currently 3 dpo. This cycle was actually sort of good. No multiple fertile patches, hormones seeming to be right on track doing what they are supposed to (even estrogen, if my CBEFM sticks are to be believed). Our timing worked out fairly well, and now it's wait time. I feel actually pretty good about it right now. Naturally we'll see what happens in a few days, but hey, for the moment, it's good.
Well. All of that said, I'll try and get back to this more this month. Between my (fan) fiction and life, I don't have as much time. But also . . . things are good right now. All things considered anyway. It's boring. I'm ok with that though. I can do with a bit less drama.
Actually, this year isn't so bad. I've been busy - I know, I say that every post now. Still, it's the sort of business that makes me wonder just what in the hell I was doing before when I thought I was busy. Spring has passed very quickly - blink of eye fast - and I have a feeling the summer will be the same. But because of events and bustle, despite the frequent reminders from tv, I kind of forgot that Mother's Day was approaching.
Sorry, Mom. I'm sending flowers, I swear. And calling, once I get the phone recharged.
Last year was bad. Last year I was wallowing, and it was made worse when my brother decided brilliantly to set up a conference call with my mom. It made her happy, but interrupted a crying jag, and I was sullen and surly because I just wanted to be left alone. Then I felt horribly guilty. Not a fun day.
So indifference is fine my me. I'm hopeful that there will be enough people celebrating that we will find the grocery store a bit more empty than usual. Beyond that, I intend to bask in the glory of the remaining weekend, because work next week is going to suck - budget development is open for fiscal year 12. I helped last year, but I've never been fully responsible for budget development of a unit. Let alone budget development of 2 units, one of which is fucking massive. And naturally, I cleared my calendar so that I can assist with other units in the division as needed.
Anyway - work is work. Things are a lot better for me than they were six months ago. I'm more settled, and I'm getting things on track with my departments. It's a struggle some days, believe me, but I'm feeling a lot more confident about work than I was a few months ago. Of course, my two close colleagues (one my supervisor) have both been promoted since my old boss left, and we're still short staffed, but it's been better for me. I work more naturally with them, and it's a relief, if you will; doesn't feel like the constant struggle and inability to do the right thing it did with my old boss.
I didn't apply for my supervisor's old job though - we had a long conversation about it, and everyone seemed to assume I would. I suppose in some ways it made sense, and we certainly hoped that other DBAs would (since we're the ones losing our jobs in centralization . . .) but no one did. Several people approached me after the fact and asked why I didn't apply, but it was simple. I approached both my new bosses and said "What do you think? Here's what I think. It's not a good time." I laid out my reasons - we'd have to find someone to cover my departments and they'd go through another year of turbulence. I was only just finding my feet, and I thought I served these special departments well and like what I'm doing. I'd only been in a department for a few months, and I thought it would be better if someone who'd been in a department for awhile took the job. I thought it would be better for another DBA to apply since it would mean one less position to RIF (though that didn't happen). And I didn't want it to look like my boss was just promoting her friends. Of course there would be an open search and everything, but there is always a sort of lingering doubt when that happens. We talked it over and we all felt comfortable with me not applying. Instead, I joined the search committee.
Let me just say - I learned something about myself during this stretch. I learned I do not like reading job applications, cover letters or resumes. And I have high standards and make fun of people who cannot fill these things out correctly. Seriously - if you can't proofread your job application, you can't work with me. Blog posts, message board posts, tweets - yeah, typos happen, poor grammar crops up. But a formal cover letter? I'll give just one example: don't tell me you are excellent in oral and written communication, then proceed to write an entire paragraph of incomplete sentences.
Oy.
In the end though, I think we found a good applicant. It was an odd experience, because this person will be in a higher position than me, but realistically, I've been pulled into a lot of plans and know a whole lot about what is going to be happening. It'll be a bit odd, really, but I knew this person would be a good fit when she cracked a joke during her interview. Hopefully she'll be here around the beginning of June, and then we'll really get things going.
What else? Well, the March for Babies walk happened last weekend. I didn't write much going in or just after. It was really because, well, I didn't want to do it. I was feeling - and still am feeling - a whole lot of ambivalence about it. It's not that it's not a good cause (though I trust that less than I did when I started, thanks to the entire Makena debacle), it's just that I wasn't sure how I felt going into it. And I talked myself into doing it and hoped it would be a good thing, and it didn't work out for me that way, in the end. If you'd like to read more about that, I've got a post up on Glow in the Woods on the main page that details the struggle I had. I debated about posting it for awhile, given that I'd not even talked about it here. But in the end, well, it didn't feel good to me, or happy, or healing. And that's ok. It didn't necessarily have to. For all of that, I will probably do it again next year. Only I will take a much more realistic view of it and not look to get anything more out of it than I think it can give.
In other news - this having become some sort of round up post, apparently - I'm currently 3 dpo. This cycle was actually sort of good. No multiple fertile patches, hormones seeming to be right on track doing what they are supposed to (even estrogen, if my CBEFM sticks are to be believed). Our timing worked out fairly well, and now it's wait time. I feel actually pretty good about it right now. Naturally we'll see what happens in a few days, but hey, for the moment, it's good.
Well. All of that said, I'll try and get back to this more this month. Between my (fan) fiction and life, I don't have as much time. But also . . . things are good right now. All things considered anyway. It's boring. I'm ok with that though. I can do with a bit less drama.
Monday, April 18, 2011
March For Babies
So . . .
I mentioned awhile ago that I will be walking this year, and am very lazily chairing the 'campaign' for my division. I've done a frankly awful job, as things simply grew too crazy for me to devote any time to this, especially amongst the ghosts this raised for me, unexpectedly.
And yet, it's still happening, and I'm still walking, and time is running out. My goal was to raise $500; I've reached a little over 3/5 of that goal. A couple of people have privately asked about donating, which is so generous and so appreciated.
After giving it some careful thought, I decided to put this out here as well. On my birthday, I tweeted a bunch of people to solicit help in publicizing my walk. Some really awesome people retweeted my link and some really, really awesome people donated as well.
Below is what I wrote about our experience when this first started; ultimately, we didn't use this because what they were looking for was something this piece was not and a way in which I could not use Gabriel or our pain. But this piece is important, and I wanted to share it. At the bottom is a link to my personal page, if you wish to donate in honor of Gabriel or in honor of the premature baby in your life, living or deceased.
This place has been many things to me over the years I've written here, and the support in the aftermath of Gabe's birth and death is something I can never forget. Thank you all for helping me find a place in the world for my little lost son, and helping me remember that he *is* important, and that he *does* matter and that in his short life, he's touched so many people and helped to bring about more good and love in the world than I could ever have believed before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I am a mother, but have no children. My son is a shadow, a spirit, a scent on the breeze, a wistful longing in my heart.
The day classes began in the fall of 2009 is the day my world stopped and shattered. I was 21 weeks into a complicated pregnancy; four days prior we had received word that our son was well and healthy and the problems that had plagued the pregnancy to that point were finally gone. We lived through four days of perfect happiness, content in knowing things were well with Gabriel.
But that particular August day was uncomfortable, then painful. I finally left to consult my midwife, who looked grave and called the doctor. I went home to rest, hoping the contractions would fade. Four hours later I was in the hospital. Three hours after that, I was in shock, watching my husband hold our child as he died, a victim of a previously undiagnosed incompetent cervix and a partial placental abruption.
Gabe was born too soon, too prematurely; three weeks before viability and life-saving measures could have given him any chance at survival. Our world crashed down around us. It felt as if life had splintered into variant paths and somehow I’d been stuck by mistake in this nightmare of a life, racked with grief and loss.
In the eighteen months that have passed since that day, I’ve changed. I am both more compassionate and less patient; more aware of the beauty of life, and the fragility of it. I go through everyday attempting to reconcile the fact of my son’s death with the rest of a life that insists on being lived.
It is impossible to state concisely yet clearly how the death of a child, your child, affects you; it’s not just a baby that dies, it’s your family, your hopes, your innocence, your future. Simple conversation makes me freeze, because I do not know the answer to the question ‘Do you have any children?’
The answer, of course, is ‘Yes. A son. Gabriel Ross. He died shortly after his premature birth.’ Some days I say those words and share Gabe’s story, some days I smile and say ‘No’ because I cannot bear to be an object of pity and the hurt is too great.
It is a dilemma I hope no one else ever faces, a pain I wish to see eradicated, a thing of which I think many people are unaware. So many advances have been made, so many modern miracles that people forget that prematurity remains the highest killer of newborns and infants. March of Dimes fights against prematurity every day in a variety of ways – through funding research that saves even 23 and 24 week babies, through education about healthy pregnancies and risks to the same, to aiding women locally in seeking prenatal care and providing untold support to families whose children are in NICU.
I will be walking with March for Babies this May 1, 2011 to support the efforts of March of Dimes; to help ensure that fewer women join the ranks of the baby-lost, to remember and honor my Gabriel. If you wish to support my efforts, please visit my personal page here.
I mentioned awhile ago that I will be walking this year, and am very lazily chairing the 'campaign' for my division. I've done a frankly awful job, as things simply grew too crazy for me to devote any time to this, especially amongst the ghosts this raised for me, unexpectedly.
And yet, it's still happening, and I'm still walking, and time is running out. My goal was to raise $500; I've reached a little over 3/5 of that goal. A couple of people have privately asked about donating, which is so generous and so appreciated.
After giving it some careful thought, I decided to put this out here as well. On my birthday, I tweeted a bunch of people to solicit help in publicizing my walk. Some really awesome people retweeted my link and some really, really awesome people donated as well.
Below is what I wrote about our experience when this first started; ultimately, we didn't use this because what they were looking for was something this piece was not and a way in which I could not use Gabriel or our pain. But this piece is important, and I wanted to share it. At the bottom is a link to my personal page, if you wish to donate in honor of Gabriel or in honor of the premature baby in your life, living or deceased.
This place has been many things to me over the years I've written here, and the support in the aftermath of Gabe's birth and death is something I can never forget. Thank you all for helping me find a place in the world for my little lost son, and helping me remember that he *is* important, and that he *does* matter and that in his short life, he's touched so many people and helped to bring about more good and love in the world than I could ever have believed before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I am a mother, but have no children. My son is a shadow, a spirit, a scent on the breeze, a wistful longing in my heart.
The day classes began in the fall of 2009 is the day my world stopped and shattered. I was 21 weeks into a complicated pregnancy; four days prior we had received word that our son was well and healthy and the problems that had plagued the pregnancy to that point were finally gone. We lived through four days of perfect happiness, content in knowing things were well with Gabriel.
But that particular August day was uncomfortable, then painful. I finally left to consult my midwife, who looked grave and called the doctor. I went home to rest, hoping the contractions would fade. Four hours later I was in the hospital. Three hours after that, I was in shock, watching my husband hold our child as he died, a victim of a previously undiagnosed incompetent cervix and a partial placental abruption.
Gabe was born too soon, too prematurely; three weeks before viability and life-saving measures could have given him any chance at survival. Our world crashed down around us. It felt as if life had splintered into variant paths and somehow I’d been stuck by mistake in this nightmare of a life, racked with grief and loss.
In the eighteen months that have passed since that day, I’ve changed. I am both more compassionate and less patient; more aware of the beauty of life, and the fragility of it. I go through everyday attempting to reconcile the fact of my son’s death with the rest of a life that insists on being lived.
It is impossible to state concisely yet clearly how the death of a child, your child, affects you; it’s not just a baby that dies, it’s your family, your hopes, your innocence, your future. Simple conversation makes me freeze, because I do not know the answer to the question ‘Do you have any children?’
The answer, of course, is ‘Yes. A son. Gabriel Ross. He died shortly after his premature birth.’ Some days I say those words and share Gabe’s story, some days I smile and say ‘No’ because I cannot bear to be an object of pity and the hurt is too great.
It is a dilemma I hope no one else ever faces, a pain I wish to see eradicated, a thing of which I think many people are unaware. So many advances have been made, so many modern miracles that people forget that prematurity remains the highest killer of newborns and infants. March of Dimes fights against prematurity every day in a variety of ways – through funding research that saves even 23 and 24 week babies, through education about healthy pregnancies and risks to the same, to aiding women locally in seeking prenatal care and providing untold support to families whose children are in NICU.
I will be walking with March for Babies this May 1, 2011 to support the efforts of March of Dimes; to help ensure that fewer women join the ranks of the baby-lost, to remember and honor my Gabriel. If you wish to support my efforts, please visit my personal page here.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Friday Friday Friday Friday
If I repeat it enough, maybe it'll help make better the fact that I am so far behind and so frazzled and so . . . gnnnghausghahghahhw that my inclination is to rock back and forth and hum tunelessly and stare sightlessly, only there is no time for nonsense like that. And what am I doing even writing this? God, my monthly deadlines are TODAY and I stayed for an extra 3 hours last night and got a bunch done, but I'm not finished and TODAY and shit and reports and I'm trying, dear God, I'm trying but I can't watch them every second when I work 25 hours per week in a separate office and when I'm not watching they DO things like buy food and other forbidden items and we have NO MONEY and why don't they GET that and now my financial coordinator is interviewing for new jobs and and and and . . .
Breathe.
The good thing about things being in such crisis mode is that there is no time for brooding. Silver lining somewhere, right? The usual day of batshit crazy emotional-ness was prolonged and made worse by the chemical pregnancy, but now I'm past that and hormones are cleared from my system and damn! what a difference that makes.
I can't say I'm thrilled with everything, but at least at some distance and without hormone-goggles, I can shrug it off a bit more easily. I can more easily say - hey, at least things are working again, after a good six months of 'not so much with the working' and that's a good thing. I can more easily say that I'm willing to try a bit longer, that we're not done yet.
At least I can as long as the marshmallow eggs are still available. Once those comforting squishy mounds of chocolatey-marshmallow goodness are gone, all bets are off.
And now, if I don't get back to it, I'm going to end up rocking in a corner despite my best efforts. At least it's Friday, right?
Breathe.
The good thing about things being in such crisis mode is that there is no time for brooding. Silver lining somewhere, right? The usual day of batshit crazy emotional-ness was prolonged and made worse by the chemical pregnancy, but now I'm past that and hormones are cleared from my system and damn! what a difference that makes.
I can't say I'm thrilled with everything, but at least at some distance and without hormone-goggles, I can shrug it off a bit more easily. I can more easily say - hey, at least things are working again, after a good six months of 'not so much with the working' and that's a good thing. I can more easily say that I'm willing to try a bit longer, that we're not done yet.
At least I can as long as the marshmallow eggs are still available. Once those comforting squishy mounds of chocolatey-marshmallow goodness are gone, all bets are off.
And now, if I don't get back to it, I'm going to end up rocking in a corner despite my best efforts. At least it's Friday, right?
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Not what I expected
I've been quiet for awhile. Work and other things, naturally.
And then, well, something happened. And I made a conscious decision not to discuss it here, not yet. Which makes this sound melodramatic and makes me feel a little stupid. But . . . I can't keep this and everything bottled up, because there is a lot attached to this.
Last Thursday evening, I got a faintly positive pregnancy test. Faint faint faint. On an internet cheap test. Which I only sort of trust, because it was so faint. I decided then that I would not count it positive - evap line, maybe. Friday morning, the test was the same. A line appeared within the five minute testing window, but was very, very light. Whether or not it was pink was questionable.
On the way home Friday, we were rear-ended. Just worth noting, because it's a giant hassle and pain in my ass.
I tested with a FR Friday night (10 dpo). It was negative. The faint line on the cheapie remained.
Saturday morning (11 dpo), I got a faint, faint colorless line on FR. DH didn't see it. Continue to get the same light line on the cheapie. Given that it is showing up so quickly, within 3 minutes, and is visible to both of us, we tentatively decide that well, it's positive. Right. Ok.
Sunday morning (12 dpo), I get a darker line on FR. But it is quite pale, I'm not sure about it, but again, it appears pale pink and both of us see the line. After a trip to get more FR, and some digitals, and go grocery shopping, I take another test and this one . . . it's a beautiful positive. A clear, though light, but definitely pink line appears in about a minute.
It was positive.
I was pregnant.
Symptoms were present this entire time, fatigue and sore boobs, primarily. Nausea wasn't there much, which worried me some, since I've always been so ill from the beginning with the other pregnancies. But every pregnancy is different, right?
I took another test yesterday morning, expecting the line to be even darker, as I prepared to call the doc for betas.
It wasn't darker. It was barely there.
Another fucking chemical pregnancy.
I cried all the way into work. Not because I was attached to that baby - I wasn't. That may sound callous, but let's be honest. With the multitude of ways in which a pregnancy can go wrong, I remain shocked that anyone is ever born. After all of two days, I'm not attached. But I am angry. I am hurt. I am tired. I don't know how much longer I can ride this rollercoaster, but the other options are not palatable.
As of this afternoon, the tests were still faintly positive, and my period had not yet arrived. Infuriating. I would be concerned were it not for the fact that I have at least finally started spotting.
To go into everything I felt all weekend . . . I was practically batshit crazy. I am not convinced I can go through another pregnancy. I wonder somewhat if I would be any less worried if the circumstances were different, if the positives showed up quickly and darkly, if they weren't late or unclear, if my temperatures were more steady. Dunno.
It was an emotionally wringing weekend, and I was terrified for much of it, though I tried to simply breathe through it. To make it through and end up with yet another failure has simply left me feeling raw.
I don't actually feel like writing any more about this right now. I've hashed it over with a friend. I'm bitter. And I've got work to do. And an insurance claim to work on. So dwelling yet again isn't the best choice. But I wanted to put it out there, because I'm feeling a lot of different things about this.
It's so tiresome. We're into our fourth year of actively trying. We should be trying for Gabriel's sibling. And instead, it's still - all these years later - just us and the pets, only now there is also a box of ashes. This is not how it was supposed to be. It's how it is. And I don't think there is a single thing I can do to change it. Things would be so much easier if I could see what happened in the future, whether or not it is worth it to keep going. Right now, it sure doesn't feel that way.
And then, well, something happened. And I made a conscious decision not to discuss it here, not yet. Which makes this sound melodramatic and makes me feel a little stupid. But . . . I can't keep this and everything bottled up, because there is a lot attached to this.
Last Thursday evening, I got a faintly positive pregnancy test. Faint faint faint. On an internet cheap test. Which I only sort of trust, because it was so faint. I decided then that I would not count it positive - evap line, maybe. Friday morning, the test was the same. A line appeared within the five minute testing window, but was very, very light. Whether or not it was pink was questionable.
On the way home Friday, we were rear-ended. Just worth noting, because it's a giant hassle and pain in my ass.
I tested with a FR Friday night (10 dpo). It was negative. The faint line on the cheapie remained.
Saturday morning (11 dpo), I got a faint, faint colorless line on FR. DH didn't see it. Continue to get the same light line on the cheapie. Given that it is showing up so quickly, within 3 minutes, and is visible to both of us, we tentatively decide that well, it's positive. Right. Ok.
Sunday morning (12 dpo), I get a darker line on FR. But it is quite pale, I'm not sure about it, but again, it appears pale pink and both of us see the line. After a trip to get more FR, and some digitals, and go grocery shopping, I take another test and this one . . . it's a beautiful positive. A clear, though light, but definitely pink line appears in about a minute.
It was positive.
I was pregnant.
Symptoms were present this entire time, fatigue and sore boobs, primarily. Nausea wasn't there much, which worried me some, since I've always been so ill from the beginning with the other pregnancies. But every pregnancy is different, right?
I took another test yesterday morning, expecting the line to be even darker, as I prepared to call the doc for betas.
It wasn't darker. It was barely there.
Another fucking chemical pregnancy.
I cried all the way into work. Not because I was attached to that baby - I wasn't. That may sound callous, but let's be honest. With the multitude of ways in which a pregnancy can go wrong, I remain shocked that anyone is ever born. After all of two days, I'm not attached. But I am angry. I am hurt. I am tired. I don't know how much longer I can ride this rollercoaster, but the other options are not palatable.
As of this afternoon, the tests were still faintly positive, and my period had not yet arrived. Infuriating. I would be concerned were it not for the fact that I have at least finally started spotting.
To go into everything I felt all weekend . . . I was practically batshit crazy. I am not convinced I can go through another pregnancy. I wonder somewhat if I would be any less worried if the circumstances were different, if the positives showed up quickly and darkly, if they weren't late or unclear, if my temperatures were more steady. Dunno.
It was an emotionally wringing weekend, and I was terrified for much of it, though I tried to simply breathe through it. To make it through and end up with yet another failure has simply left me feeling raw.
I don't actually feel like writing any more about this right now. I've hashed it over with a friend. I'm bitter. And I've got work to do. And an insurance claim to work on. So dwelling yet again isn't the best choice. But I wanted to put it out there, because I'm feeling a lot of different things about this.
It's so tiresome. We're into our fourth year of actively trying. We should be trying for Gabriel's sibling. And instead, it's still - all these years later - just us and the pets, only now there is also a box of ashes. This is not how it was supposed to be. It's how it is. And I don't think there is a single thing I can do to change it. Things would be so much easier if I could see what happened in the future, whether or not it is worth it to keep going. Right now, it sure doesn't feel that way.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
*cough cough*
Feel sorry for my poor beleaguered husband.
I am sick.
And not just "I'm not feeling 100% today" sick; more like I had a bad feeling when I woke up yesterday and my chest felt . . . mmmm, sticky? and I felt more fatigued than anytime except pregnancy. Then as I pushed through the slog of the day, I got to the last hour and a half, which ought to have been enough time to make good headway on The Thing Which Absolutely Must Be Completed By 10:00 AM Monday Morning Or The World As We Know It Will End (which, incidentally, is the same thing as what ought to've been completed by Thursday evening, but which got pushed aside in favor of working on the new budget reduction numbers). Yeah, I just got lost in my own overly complicated run-on sentence. Sorry.
The point is that I sat at my desk and started shivering violently, which is really unusual for me, barring sub-forty weather outdoors. So I pulled on a wrap I keep at the offices for just such emergencies, and was instantly boiling. I felt dizzy, so I gave in, called DH and said I was going home, and I'd sure like him to come with me. He came. I was still smiling and joking, so I'm not sure my bosses knew exactly how bad I was feeling, but meh, I don't care.
It was a long walk to the car and far longer drive home. Fucking Rodeo. Fucking me for forgetting my usual route has rodeo traffic and that Lady Antebellum were playing last night (which I know because we were offered free tickets which I turned down because of not feeling well). It took twice as long as usual to get home, and three times as long as it ought to have taken on the Friday before most of the city went on Spring Break before 5:00.
We stopped to load up on Dayquil and Nyquil, because frankly, by that point, I was a walking commercial for them. I felt really wretched by this point in time and very whiny. All of this, I might add, was made worse by yet another return of red spotting in no logical sense. My cycle is so fucked up, y'all.
Poor, sweet Dh has taken excellent care of me, but I am a giant baby when I am well into what I call "Mommy, I don't feel good" territory. A fever and the shakes and the resultness achiness and ouchy coughing of alarmingly yellow-green stuff definitely qualifies, by the way.
So all I have to say is thank God for my husband, and for Advil and Dayquil and Nyquil and holy shit, body, you suck. The weekend? Really? After the shit week I had? I hate you.
Also, still have to go into work to finish this damned report. Wah.
I am sick.
And not just "I'm not feeling 100% today" sick; more like I had a bad feeling when I woke up yesterday and my chest felt . . . mmmm, sticky? and I felt more fatigued than anytime except pregnancy. Then as I pushed through the slog of the day, I got to the last hour and a half, which ought to have been enough time to make good headway on The Thing Which Absolutely Must Be Completed By 10:00 AM Monday Morning Or The World As We Know It Will End (which, incidentally, is the same thing as what ought to've been completed by Thursday evening, but which got pushed aside in favor of working on the new budget reduction numbers). Yeah, I just got lost in my own overly complicated run-on sentence. Sorry.
The point is that I sat at my desk and started shivering violently, which is really unusual for me, barring sub-forty weather outdoors. So I pulled on a wrap I keep at the offices for just such emergencies, and was instantly boiling. I felt dizzy, so I gave in, called DH and said I was going home, and I'd sure like him to come with me. He came. I was still smiling and joking, so I'm not sure my bosses knew exactly how bad I was feeling, but meh, I don't care.
It was a long walk to the car and far longer drive home. Fucking Rodeo. Fucking me for forgetting my usual route has rodeo traffic and that Lady Antebellum were playing last night (which I know because we were offered free tickets which I turned down because of not feeling well). It took twice as long as usual to get home, and three times as long as it ought to have taken on the Friday before most of the city went on Spring Break before 5:00.
We stopped to load up on Dayquil and Nyquil, because frankly, by that point, I was a walking commercial for them. I felt really wretched by this point in time and very whiny. All of this, I might add, was made worse by yet another return of red spotting in no logical sense. My cycle is so fucked up, y'all.
Poor, sweet Dh has taken excellent care of me, but I am a giant baby when I am well into what I call "Mommy, I don't feel good" territory. A fever and the shakes and the resultness achiness and ouchy coughing of alarmingly yellow-green stuff definitely qualifies, by the way.
So all I have to say is thank God for my husband, and for Advil and Dayquil and Nyquil and holy shit, body, you suck. The weekend? Really? After the shit week I had? I hate you.
Also, still have to go into work to finish this damned report. Wah.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Fairness.
I know, I know, I know. I know deep down and intimately that life is not fair. That there is no guarantee of reward for hard work, and that despite what my mother tried to teach us, there is nothing that guarantees consequences for irresponsible actions. I've known this for a long time, and I was slapped around by it when Gabe died and yet I still find myself clinging to the idea that the universe is an essentially fair place.
It's bullshit.
The universe is not fair, it's random. It's not caring or punishing or judging or loving. It simply is. In all its wonder and mystery and beauty and fragility. There is no fair.
I was reminded today, again, when my friend sent a frantic email asking for thoughts and prayers for her friend (whom I do not know). It's not my place to lay out their story, but I can tell you it ended in utter tragedy of the most senseless and least comprehensible kind. The kind that makes me cling to my husband and weep with gratitude that though we've lost our son, we have each other, and the chance to hold him and love him for a few hours.
It makes me angry, though I don't know why. A lingering belief that there is a consciousness behind the universe, a god that could stop it all and prevent senseless tragedy if he or she only would do, maybe. Anger at the utter impotence and powerlessness to be of any use to these people I don't know or to my friend. I can't even offer to watch her baby while she helps them - we're separated by multiple states.
Maybe it's hormones; the spotting is really bleeding and has turned red. I am weepy without being able to pinpoint why. I dreamed last night I was stabbed over and over and left for dead - the vivid sort of dream I rarely have any longer (to be fair, the other really vivid part was a long interview about Oliver Phelps curly-haired girlfriend Jessika and how much he loves her - I remember that very well, being befuddled by it in the dream as I watched the interview).
I don't know. I am restless tonight, having trouble settling to any task. I want to write - the words are hovering at my fingertips, but they are brittle and hard. Maybe this is the right time to write a brittle piece, but I can't bend my mind to it. I could work; God knows that today was less than productive - lots of meetings and talking. I'm sick of it, just need to wait to see what will be next. Speculating does me no favors.
Today the song that attracts me Fade Away by Oasis. The Warchild version or Noel Gallagher's live version. I can't decide whether I feel uplifted by it or depressed. The tune is catchy enough, the words go either way:
When I was young
I thought I had my own key
I knew exactly what I wanted to be
Now I'm sure
You've boarded up every door
Lived in a bubble
Days were never ending
Was not concerned
About what life was sending
Fantasy was real
Now I know much
About the way I feel
I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
Now my life has turned
Another corner
I think it's only best
That I should warn you
Dream it while you can
Maybe someday
I'll make you understand
I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
Fade away, away, away
I don't know. I just . . . don't know. Not a good night, I guess.
Why should I expect fairness at this point? I don't understand it, but there is this instinctive reaction to revert to deservedness and worth and none of it matters. Even if there was some sort of cosmic meritocracy, what makes anyone more or less deserving of tragedy? I could say why me, why me, why me - but as others have pointed out - why not me? Why not these people? Or why anyone?
I'm not drinking - though it sounds bloody fucking marvelous as an idea - and certainly I can't continue this train of thought without a few drinks. Not that I'll reach a conclusion at that point, but maybe it would make more sense then.
I wish . . . I dunno. That bad things didn't happen to people? How juvenile. That bad things only happened to bad people? Even worse. That senseless tragedy didn't occur? Bah. Without it, we would never appreciate the moments of beauty. I wish it didn't hurt so much, I guess, which is equally infantile. I wish I could still believe that maybe there was some greater meaning. It would be a lot more comfortable than this current state.
It's just . . . unfair. I cannot conceive of another word. The whole thing is unfathomable.
It's bullshit.
The universe is not fair, it's random. It's not caring or punishing or judging or loving. It simply is. In all its wonder and mystery and beauty and fragility. There is no fair.
I was reminded today, again, when my friend sent a frantic email asking for thoughts and prayers for her friend (whom I do not know). It's not my place to lay out their story, but I can tell you it ended in utter tragedy of the most senseless and least comprehensible kind. The kind that makes me cling to my husband and weep with gratitude that though we've lost our son, we have each other, and the chance to hold him and love him for a few hours.
It makes me angry, though I don't know why. A lingering belief that there is a consciousness behind the universe, a god that could stop it all and prevent senseless tragedy if he or she only would do, maybe. Anger at the utter impotence and powerlessness to be of any use to these people I don't know or to my friend. I can't even offer to watch her baby while she helps them - we're separated by multiple states.
Maybe it's hormones; the spotting is really bleeding and has turned red. I am weepy without being able to pinpoint why. I dreamed last night I was stabbed over and over and left for dead - the vivid sort of dream I rarely have any longer (to be fair, the other really vivid part was a long interview about Oliver Phelps curly-haired girlfriend Jessika and how much he loves her - I remember that very well, being befuddled by it in the dream as I watched the interview).
I don't know. I am restless tonight, having trouble settling to any task. I want to write - the words are hovering at my fingertips, but they are brittle and hard. Maybe this is the right time to write a brittle piece, but I can't bend my mind to it. I could work; God knows that today was less than productive - lots of meetings and talking. I'm sick of it, just need to wait to see what will be next. Speculating does me no favors.
Today the song that attracts me Fade Away by Oasis. The Warchild version or Noel Gallagher's live version. I can't decide whether I feel uplifted by it or depressed. The tune is catchy enough, the words go either way:
When I was young
I thought I had my own key
I knew exactly what I wanted to be
Now I'm sure
You've boarded up every door
Lived in a bubble
Days were never ending
Was not concerned
About what life was sending
Fantasy was real
Now I know much
About the way I feel
I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
Now my life has turned
Another corner
I think it's only best
That I should warn you
Dream it while you can
Maybe someday
I'll make you understand
I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
Fade away, away, away
I don't know. I just . . . don't know. Not a good night, I guess.
Why should I expect fairness at this point? I don't understand it, but there is this instinctive reaction to revert to deservedness and worth and none of it matters. Even if there was some sort of cosmic meritocracy, what makes anyone more or less deserving of tragedy? I could say why me, why me, why me - but as others have pointed out - why not me? Why not these people? Or why anyone?
I'm not drinking - though it sounds bloody fucking marvelous as an idea - and certainly I can't continue this train of thought without a few drinks. Not that I'll reach a conclusion at that point, but maybe it would make more sense then.
I wish . . . I dunno. That bad things didn't happen to people? How juvenile. That bad things only happened to bad people? Even worse. That senseless tragedy didn't occur? Bah. Without it, we would never appreciate the moments of beauty. I wish it didn't hurt so much, I guess, which is equally infantile. I wish I could still believe that maybe there was some greater meaning. It would be a lot more comfortable than this current state.
It's just . . . unfair. I cannot conceive of another word. The whole thing is unfathomable.
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