Ch-ch-ch-changes

There are going to be some major changes around here. Yesterday, Jerry and I took a huge leap of faith and signed a contract with a general contractor to build our new home. We had purchased an acreage just outside of town back in Spring 2004 and had been working with this builder for a year now. In fact, it was important to us that we made sure that Max's and the baby's room be on the other side of the house. Even though we still don't have the baby or know if we ever will, we still refer to that 3rd bedroom as the Baby's Room. I think I had been intentionally dragging my feet even though I desperately wanted to build a new home. Even now it's hard to think about what will happen to that room if there never is a baby. If we decided at some point to turn it into a den, it would break my heart every time I would go in and see the computer, treadmill and bookshelves in the places a crib, changing table and dresser were supposed to go.

M.P., our builder, told us they will probably break ground this weekend and get the basement in by the end of September. I have a little meloncholy already starting for the house we are currently in, which was the house Max came home to from the hospital and the place of so many little boy giggles and firsts. I have to remind myself that it's 4 years of memory here compared to what I hope is the rest of our lives in the new house.

Another change I've decided to make is to go to a local OB, Dr. V. in town who does IUI in his office. I didn't realize when my own OB had referred me to the big city, that this doctor was available. I wasn't referred by my own OB due to him being the competition as far as OBGYN services. Taking into consideration the ridiculous gas prices, our gas-loving Soccer-Mom-SUV, and insufficient health insurance, it would be prudent for Jerry and I to consider whatever alternatives we can find. Building a new house and going through infertility treatments is not real conducive to maintaining a healthy checkbook, much less my sanity. Making the drive that would take 10 minutes to the clinic leaves a lot less time to dwell on how bloated I'll get on the injections and more time for me to design the kitchen.

In fact, tomorrow at 9:30 is my first appt with Dr. V. Maybe he'll tell me he can't help and recommend we not burn any bridges with Dr. M. in the big city...who knows? It wouldn't matter anyway, as we have decided that if IUI doesn't work by the end of the year, we'll move onto IVF, which would require me to drive 2 1/2 hrs one way. We may only be delaying the inevitable, but we're praying we're not.

Oh! I almost forgot: today I had been pretty wired with the signing of our contract and scheduling a doctor's appt that I really didn't need any more drama. However, at 1:30 I received a call from one of the preschool's office personnel. I was told Max had "soiled himself" and that I had to come pick him up. I was off in a flash. I get to his classroom door and his teacher escorts him out the room. Max knows what has happened because he asks me to change him there so he can go back to school. I took his hand and calmly but firmly dragged him out the door and into the Soccer-Mom-SUV and explained that he was not going to be able to go back to school today because he had pooped his pants. With the realization of what had happened coming over the poor kid like a storm-cloud, he sobbed all the way to our day care giver's home. Feeling like I owed the care-giver more than to just drop Max off at her house in poopy pants, I took him to the bathroom with a change of pants.

I carefully pulled down his shorts, being cautious not to make a mess, and I was absolutely flabbergasted with what I saw: he was clean AND dry! I was on the phone to the school outraged! Why didn't they check him?! Why hadn't I checked him?! His teacher, bless her heart, told me this: they had been outside on the playground and Max had come up to her and said that he had had an accident. At first she thought he had fallen down, and when she asked what kind of accident, Max said he had pooped his pants. They came inside and Max even laid on the floor as if to be changed out of a dirty diaper. She said that since Max was such a smart boy that she figured he knew what he was talking about and it wasn't that terribly unusual for 3 yr olds to have accidents. It appears that Max had probably "tooted" and guessed that he had pooped as well. The teacher said he was welcome to come back and finish the period with the class and away back across town to school I went.

His teacher said she would sneak a peak next time. I think I better do the same.