Day 62: Sympathy Cravings

It’s almost midnight, Anat’s been out at a show tonight, and I’ve been at home on the couch. And now I’m having cravings. She’s on the way home with an In-N-Out double-double animal style for me (and one for herself). Wait till I start chowing on pickles and ice cream.

There’ll Be No More Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Before we started trying to have a kid (I love that euphemism), we read/were told that we should have some genetic testing done to limit the likelihood that our children would have a number of genetic diseases. We were easily convinced that it was the right thing to do, so we began the somewhat frustrating process of getting our chromosomes tested.

The first step was to find a doctor who could do the test. Anat and I decided that since she’s a wimp we thought my insurance was better, that I would get tested. If you all remember Mendel’s laws, in these cases, it takes both parents being carriers to even have a chance of a child having a certain disease. In theory, if I was negative for all of the diseases, Anat would avoid a needle.

So I began to call around to various doctor’s offices and ask if they could do the testing. Surprisingly, most had no idea what I was talking about. Some had vaguely heard about it, while others informed me that they could only draw the blood and send it to a lab (I figured this all along). After calling almost a dozen doctors I was frustrated. It wasn’t until we were hiking with a friend’s brother that had gone through the process, that we were finally tipped off that Cedar’s Sinai Medical Center actually had a genetic testing facility.

Anat called up the testing center, got the details and faxed me a list of 3 dozen tests, subtests, codes, and prices. That’s when the sticker shock set in. If I remember correctly, if our respective insurances didn’t cover these tests then we’d be on the hook for about 3 grand — that’s assuming I was negative and that Anat didn’t need to get tested for any. I know you can never put a price on good health but the price wasn’t exactly insignificant. Regardless, we decided that we’d pay for the tests regardless what our insurance covered.

Part of the reason for the high price was because it was recommended that we’d be tested for 11 separate diseases. These 11 tests are collectively referred to as the Ashkenazi Panel, a group of tests that screen for the presence of genetic mutations commonly carried by Eastern European Jews. These diseases include Tay-Sachs, Canavan Disease, and Maple Syrup Urine Disease, an illness as deadly as it is hilariously named. And if you’re wondering, Ashkenzi Jews are more likely to get these because we’re all inbred. But I digress….

Next came the worst part of the process … dealing with the insurance company. Without dwelling on an already belabored experience, I ended up calling Blue Cross multiple times, to figure out whether or not I was covered, to what extent they might reimburse, and what I had to do to make sure I could get the maximum reimbursement possible. I probably spent a few hours total on the phone with theses clowns until I finally found a very nice and competent manager that walked me through the process. In doing so, she had to contradict what many of the previous people I had spoke with had said. Eventually she told me that once I hit my annual co-pay, I’d only be responsible for 15% of the remaining bill. Compared to $3,000, I was certainly pleased with that amount. Still, despite her assurances, she had to, according to company policy, remind me that deceleration of benefits meant nothing until the bill was submitted.

Meanwhile, on Anat’s end, we read that each test would cost $20, not bad. But then when we investigated further someone told us that each test had multiple subtests/procedures (eg., drop blood on slide, put slide in microscope, etc), and it would be $20 per procedure. So we were looking at $20 * 75. Which would be more than what I would pay if Blue Cross covered all but 15%. We were confused and couldn’t get a straight answer. Being risk averse we reasoned that my insurance was a safer bet and we scheduled our appointment with the genetic counselor.

We showed up at the office and were impressed how nice everyone was. People smiled a lot and it seemed like everywhere we looked, happy couples sat in different corners of the office eager to get on with gettin’ it on. After a lot of frustration we felt we were finally getting to the good parts of this process. All of a sudden this all felt a bit more real and exciting. We met with our counselor who went over our histories. We told her where we were from, where our parents and grandparents were from, and discussed our medical histories. She recommended the Ashkenzi Panel and went over all the required information we needed. She also discussed with us the possibilities that we both might be positive for the same tests. Later I went to the nurse’s station, gave blood, and we went home to wait.

I think we waited about a week before we heard. As you can imagine, we weren’t the most patient people, but the time seemed to go by at a fast enough pace. Then the genetic counselor called me to tell me the news:

Her: Hi, I have your results.
Me: Great, what are they?
Her: Well… you’re not a carrier for 9 diseases.
Me: (Quickly doing the math on my fingers) Uh huh.
Her: But you are a carrier for 2 diseases.
Me: Bummer.
Her: They are Familial Dysautonomia and Maple Syrup Urine Disease.
Me: (Laughing at the hilarity of the name).

In our first meeting she had prepared us that there was a likelihood that we’d be carriers for at least one disease. We realized that since we both had to be carriers, that we wouldn’t get worried about the results of my tests. Instead Anat made an appointment and went in to get tested for the two diseases I tested positive for. By the way, you’ll be proud to know that she didn’t pass/freak out when she gave blood.

While waiting for the test results, we talked about the possibilities. If she were to test positive for either one, there would be a 25% chance that any child we conceived naturally would have a pretty severe illness. The options would then be, try our luck, adopt, or use some sort of in vetro method. We weren’t opposed to any of the options but at the risk of putting the cart before the horse, we waited to get the results before thinking of the next steps.

Turns out this story has a happy ending. Anat’s tests came back negative. As for me being a carrier of such a sweetly named disease? Well, first of all….. don’t marry your cousins. For that matter, while all you Jewish Mama’s reading this might disagree, this is nature’s little way of telling you that Shicksa’s aren’t that bad of an idea: hello genetic diversity? Second, there’s now a 25% chance that our brood will also be carriers but a 0% chance that they’ll have MSUD or the boring one.

So why did I go on and on about the insurance companies earlier? Well, turns out that they’re all idiots. My insurance did cover the tests. In fact I only had to pay 50% of what I thought I’d have to pay. Am I happy about that, sure? Have you seen what Bugaboos cost? As for Anat, it cost her $40 for the two tests. Looks like financially speaking we should have just gone with her plan originally but with all of the disinformation we received it was hard to make that choice … besides, if I hadn’t gotten tested, we wouldn’t be aware of the MSUD. Who wants pancakes?

Day 60: A Judicial Experience…Literally.

I went in for jury duty Monday and thought — this is going to be so easy, I will tell them that I am pregnant and I will get out of it instantly. My name was called minutes after the orientation and I walked with my jury cohort to department O at the Santa Monica courthouse. There were 30 of us, but only 14 (12+2 alternates) had to serve. I was number 19 to be called as people had not made the cut already. I got up there, swore to tell the truth to some god, and then sat down. The judge asked me my name, what I do, what my husband does, and if I have ever served before. I got a little nervous, as I had never been in front of a judge before, but I answered all his questions. After another ten or so minutes, I realized that I was in the jury box, and that in two seconds I would not be allowed to speak again until the case was over. I quickly raised my hand and asked to speak. The judge asked me if anything was wrong and I proceeded to tell him that I was pregnant and that I have morning sickness and the only way to feel better is to eat constantly. He quickly replied that that is no problem and that I should feel free to eat and drink as much as I want while in court. Then he announced that the jury had been picked.

Not only was I on the jury, but I had just told 15 strangers that I was pregnant. I have not even told my grandmother yet, and these random people all know. It felt strange. Suddenly everyone was smiling at me, asking me questions, it was like instant popularity. But then the baby/children stories began. Everyone felt that I should know about their kids; how old they are, what they do, what time they came home last night, how many car accidents they have been in. While at first I was amused, I quickly got really bored and scared. Am I going to be like this??? Is this what happens??? And of course, my favorite line that always comes last, “Aren’t you glad you have all this to look forward to?” The last guy that said this to me was talking about how he tries to act cool when his kids come home late, even though he is furious, so that they listen to him. He went on about how 16 is such a crazy year, with licenses and such. I was getting a little testy at this point and decided that I wanted to stop all conversation, so I turned to him and reminded him that I was closer to 16 than my kid is.

Week 8 Photos

Week 8: On her way to the beach

 

Week 8: On his way to responsible parenthood

Day 53: I Don’t Heart Vomit

After not sleeping very well (see last post), I woke up knowing I had a cardiology appointment in a few hours. When we went to the OB last week, we found out that I have a heart murmur and today was my day to figure out what that means exactly.

Aaron went to work but before he left he brought me a glass of juice to bed, so that I could take my time getting up (it’s supposed to help the nausea). I finally got up, drank my awesome bright orange, Trader Joe’s ‘Dynamo Juice,’ and headed to the shower. About halfway through my shower, I could feel something was not right. I quickly jumped out and ran (well – its really only about 6 inches away) to the toilet. I puked. There it was — all that lovely bright orange Dynamo Juice. It had finally happened, I could finally say, that yes, I was having morning sickness. It was real and unpleasant. But when it was over, I felt a lot better. I went to the farmers market and ate an awesome strawberry danish that I had dreamt about all week.

After the market, I went to my appointment, a little scared that there could be something wrong with my heart. It is one of those places in the body where you just don’t want there to be something wrong. When I walked into the waiting room, I did a double take on the door to make sure it was the right room because the waiting room was full of people over the age of 75. I felt out of place and even more nervous. I finally got called in by a woman named Einat (also Israeli) who started talking to me in Hebrew. I had to be like, listen lady, I am really nervous and would rather just speak in a language where I can say exactly what I want and not use the hundred or so words I practice with my Israeli family on a random phone call. She understood.

To make a long story short – she basically gave me another ultrasound, but this one on my heart. It was the coolest thing ever! I could see the valves moving the blood around, I could even hear the blood moving around, and I could see my heart, pumping away. It is one of those moments when you just don’t believe that what you are seeing is possible. I can’t believe that my heart never messes up. It works so hard! SO — it turns out that I do have a heart murmur but according to Einat, it is extremely “mild and insignificant.” Words I love to hear. She said it will probably go away after I give birth. I left feeling a lot calmer.

To my pregnancy I say: Bring It! I feel that I have not had the easiest time so far, but it is by no means that bad. While throwing up is uncomfortable, and having a super-human sense of smell can be annoying, I feel lucky and I know that we can get through anything together. I am just glad that I will not be pregnant during March Madness!

Day 53: Too Close for Comfort? Three’s Company?

So for those of you that don’t know, pregnant women like need to sleep a lot. Anat’s been trying to go to bed by 10pm at the latest and some nights she’s wiped out way before then. Last night she was probably asleep by 10pm. I stayed up a little later reading and doing my knee rehab stretches/exercises in the other room and only went to bed when I knew I’d likely pass right out. As I went to sleep, I could hear our neighbor’s newborn crying rather loudly 2 floors below us and 4 doors down. I remember telling myself to get used to it: babies cry.

An hour or two later I was awakened by the baby’s parents (mostly the father) having one of the loudest fights I’ve ever heard. There were profanities exchanged loudly (mostly by the father), lots of yelling, many door slammings, and what sounded like things being broken (dishes and furniture, not bones). It got to the point where I wondered when does a neighbor have an obligation to call the police to help settle the dispute. Throughout the whole thing which lasted many hours, the one constant was the baby’s crying.

Now mind you, we could hear most of the theatrics pretty darn clearly from our apartment (2 floors up, and 4 doors down); I can’t imagine how this all sounded to the kid. Now, while I understand that this is probably not model behavior for ANYONE in ANY situation, I’m trying not to pass judgment here. A few thoughts kept running through my head throughout the night.

First, I couldn’t help but notice how affected I was by all of this. It’s no secret that I hate screaming and yelling — not many people really enjoy it. This however really seemed to hit home. I kept thinking that until they had this kid, we never heard them fight. Of course this proclivity doesn’t just pop up overnight, but the toll that post-birth lack of sleep must play in a relationship is certainly non-trivial. I couldn’t help but think to myself, ‘how are we going to react to the stress?’

In our 6 years together Anat and I have always striven to create an environment were disagreements can be discussed openly and fairly while minimizing any yelling, cursing, door slamming, or other non-productive behavior. We feel like we’ve really developed something nice. Do we have fights? Sure — who doesn’t? But we try to handle them with as much respect, love, and sensitivity as possible. The hardest times, I’ve noticed, are when pride or stubbornness gets in the way of understanding and listening. Without taking sides or knowing the whole story I couldn’t help but notice how the wife in the fight would typically respond with a calm(ish) tone while the husband was always shouting and cursing. While he might have been justifiably angry, as soon as he decided to have that kid, I feel like he made a promise to suck it up in those situations and either keep it civil or go cool off until later. Kids (adults too) pick up on that energy — Anat even noticed some cramping in her uterus during the peaks of the fighting.

One of the first thoughts I had last night during the fireworks, was how would I be able to maintain anything near the perfection I believe you owe your children. I think that’s been my biggest and one of my only concerns about impending fatherhood: can I step up and be perfect. Quickly Anat reminded me that that’s impossible, that babies fall down (or get dropped), that babies are sensitive to micro-interactions you can’t even realize are occurring, and that most importantly, babies are resilient, and as long as you show them lots of love and respect they’ll grow up happy and healthy. Perfection is impossible but apologizing for mistakes is not. Maybe that would be a good way to introduce myself 7 months from now, “Hi, I’ll be your Dad, I promise I’m gonna screw up along the way but I also promise to never be too proud or stubborn to apologize, and I’ll always try to think of your needs before my own.”

Day 48: Seeing Its Shadow

Today was our first appointment with the obstetrician, Dr. Matsunaga. He’s knowledgeable, well recommended, and had many framed pieces of paper with his name on them on the wall, so he must be smart.

Apparently not only is his practice highly recommended, accepting of our insurance, and close to home/RAND/UCLA, but he’s also an ‘Obstetrician to the Stars’ so maybe we’ll get to share a Lamaze class with someone awesome like Brangelina or TomKat or some huge waste of mental space.

First he met with both of us and answered a bunch of questions like what Anat can and can’t do, what she can and can’t eat, and whether God created this baby or if it’s one of those dinosaur-evolved babies we keep reading about.

After she pissed in a little cup (commemorative samples available upon request), I waited in the waiting room while the doctor did things to her that are probably illegal in Utah and Iraq. Nonetheless the doctor said everything was working just fine and then sent us downstairs to get an ultrasound.

We got to the ultrasoundista’s office and were seen immediately. Without going through the gory details (see: Knocked Up), let’s just say that before we knew it, we were watching a monitor with the insides of Anat in view. The doc swore to us that the large chickpea-sized (9 mm) mass in the center of the screen was our kid but I didn’t see the resemblance.

(Click to enlarge: Blob on the left of uterus is the baby,
the smaller blob in middle of uterus is the yolk sack)

All kidding aside, at this point, this whole thing started getting really amazing for me. The ultrasoundista focused on the heart and at this point we could see this tiny ball beating like it had just won the 100-yard dash. The ultrasoundista said it was beating at 124 beats per minute and even amplified the sound so we could hear it as clear as day. She printed up a few pictures for us and sent us on our way.

We left feeling excited and reassured that except having a 50% chance of looking like me, both the baby and mother were in great health.

BTW, for now, the expected due date is February 2nd. It’s a few days shy of Bob Marley’s birthday, but at least there are plenty of opportunities for Groundhog Day jokes.

Day 47: The Vomitous Joys of Motherhood

I was on the bus the other day on the way home from school, when one of the crazies that Santa Monica is famous for decided to sit next to me and talk to me about my geology textbook. While he could name the three different categories of rocks, said he had been to more than 18 countries and was really just out to converse with himself, he really didn’t do anything wrong. Well – except for talking to a pregnant woman in her first trimester on a bus that was sitting in traffic. While my first reaction was oh no, here we go again, I quickly got angry, then sad, then annoyed, and finally sick. I was going to throw up on him, and there was nothing I could do about it. I’m not sure what my facial expressions were doing for those ten minutes, but I’m sure they would have scared me if I was him. Thankfully, he got off the bus relatively quickly and I made it to my stop without making a mess. I ran off the bus and found myself dry heaving on the street in Santa Monica.

You see, being pregnant means not having any idea what the next five minutes will bring. While one minute I am energetic, happy and getting work done, the next minute I am sleeping at my desk, nauseous, or crying. Smells are pretty much just plain awful, and food is pretty gross as well. The vitamins are gigantic and make me even more nauseous. My waist is disappearing but hey my boobs are getting bigger (and more painful).

It seems that pregnancy really is mother nature’s biggest paradox: as all these things are happening and the hormones are rushing through me making me not even recognize myself — I couldn’t be happier. I have a baby growing inside of me. The statement is so obvious and yet so incomprehensible to me. I can’t describe the feelings that rush through me every day, except to say that this is so real. It’s not something that is going to go away tomorrow, or a sickness that I have to get over, this is a life-changing beautiful thing, and I look forward to 33 more weeks of back-aches, foot-aches, and hormones.