Three Oh It's the Magic Number

Well everyone here is the story, before I am too senile from sleep deprivation to remember it:)

40+ 2 Thursday, September 16th:
8pm: I start feeling some funny goings on down below. Some "tightening" if you will. I start timing. We're at every 10 minutes. I continue timing contractions all night, because I am getting all crazy with overdue excitement and I have nothing else to do... Like I don't know, SLEEP.
Anyways, I time all night while my husband sleeps peacufully like a cherub on a bed of clouds with a lullaby of harps. In his defense, I didn't tell him about the contractions. I didn't want him to get excited if it wasn't the real deal.

40+3 Friday, September 17th:
By 6am the contractions were coming every 3-5 minutes and were only getting uncomfortable. I called Dr. POC and she told me to go into L&D.
8am we checked in and were at 3cm. We walked the halls and used an exercise ball to get to 4cm around noon.
At 4cm I could still breath and focus through the contractions. This shit is a cinch. I was all swimming it up in the whirlpool. Life is grand.

4pm Dr. POC, that whore crack head monkey loving biatch broke my water. Let's just say things escalated rather quickly. And by "rather quickly" I mean, immediately.
Holy hot damn. The contractions went from manageable, breath, focus to primal shrieks of terror focus on not dying.
I tried nubane for the pain. I have to say ladies, don't waste your time with this crap. Nubane is like being drunk while being run over by a train. One question: Why? Exactly.
An hour later, around 5pm and 7cm, I went for the heavy hitter and got the epidural. Sweet mother Mary it was the best thing on earth. I feel that the creator of the epidural should be nominated for a nobel peace price. I'm just saying. Kick back, put your feet up and just watch the contraction monitor soar. Suckah!
From that point on we hung out in or room with 10-15 friends and family. It was freaking awesome and it made the time go by so fast.

11pm- 10cm Oh yeah, we're having a baby.

40+4 Saturday, September 18th:

2:05am Tyler Ryan was born at 6lbs 14ounces screaming his gorgeous little fool head off. I couldn't believe how small he was for 40+4. And only a minor tear. Road rash, if you will.


I am so in love with this kid, I'm like vomiting love. He is the absolute joy of my life.

My man

3 1/2 months:

Bliss

Tyler Ryan - September 18, 2010

6lbs 14ounces, 21 inches long

Then:



and now (actually a couple of weeks ago):



We are absolutely in love. BS to follow...

Queen of the crazies

What exactly is it about me that attracts the craziest mother fuckers in the state? The baking aisle trash talker was one thing, but sporting a buddah belly has brought it to a whole new level.

During my preggo pics photo session there were a couple of bizarre encounters, which clearly point out what a nice area of town I live in.

We were on the last few pictures when these 2 "gentleman" were walking by and threw out a "Hey, Cutie!" Really? With my husband standing right there? If your dating strategy is to hit on knocked up married women, I think you need to rethink your approach. I'm just sayin'.

Not even 30 seconds after that. This drunk old hobo walked up to up and said in his slurry, hard to decipher, speech: "I juuusssttt want to telllll youuuu, what you're doing here is juuuusssst beeeeaaauuuutiiiful." And then he dropped dead of alcohol poisening. Thanks for the compliment of my life though. He was sweet, even if he wreaked of cheap vodka (which I thought about licking out of the inside of his mouth. It's been 8 months peeps, I could use a cocktail. Don't judge me. I thought better of it though when I saw syringes falling out of his pockets. I'm guessing those aren't for PIO injections? Just sayin.)

And yesterday, I left work at 2:30 to put my feet up. (Dr. POC finally reduced me to 6 hours a day, because of swelling/pitting. Google that shit. I dare you. It will make you fear the reaper) At 7:30 at a ripe 9 months pregnant, I decide to take my sweet girl, Roxy, for a little walk around the block since the weather had cooled down.
I was on the corner of a busier street when I noticed a little 5 pound yapper come running like a bat out of hell from a couple of houses down. The owners apparently didn’t notice that it had gotten away.

Picture this: 9 months pregnant woman, 65 lb boxer, and 5 lb yappy (who is trying to kill Roxy) in the middle of said busy street. Cars coming from both directions, honking. Chaos ensues trying to wrangle my dog and keep yappy from getting run over.

I get everyone out of the street when the owner (2 houses down) finally notices that his dog took off. He calls him, dog runs home. I shout at him that it might be a good idea to put his dog on a leash. He does not come over to see if 9 months pregnant woman that just saved his dogs life is okay.

I walk across the street to catch my breath and continue on the way home when woman owner of the dog decides it would be a good idea to cross the street to tell me that I “don’t have to be so rude about it.”
To which I inform her that I just saved her dog, myself, and my dog from being run over. She tells me to just let him get run over next time, and “kindness goes a long way.”

Right, because I wouldn’t know anything about kindness because I just saved your dog from being road kill. How about, “I’m so sorry, thank you so much for saving my dog, are you okay?”

And then I punched her in the face. And threw her into oncoming traffic. Your welcome lady.

I wish those were all the crazy stories I had for you. But no, there're more.

At work this week we got new computers, so our IT department was in house to help with questions, etc.

Me: (Minding own business, walking to my office)

Creepy IT guy: Excuse me, ma'am?

Me: Mm hm?

Creep: Um, you wouldn't happen to be pregnant would you?

Me: Actually, I was just on my way to the pharmacy to get the morning after pill.

Creep: Well, I had this button made up and I'd like you to have it.

Peeps, the button says on it, FREE HUG.

Really? I think I just got sexually harrassed.

Anyways, I have been officially named the Queen of the Crazies. I take much pride in the honor that has been bestowed upon me. I hope to represent the Crazies with as much flair as possible.

In other news, the bug's room is coming together. Still no name though.

Remind me next time to tell you about the birthing video we watched. I need another therapy session before I'll be ready to talk about it.

It's cool to pee your pants

33w2d
2 posts in 1 day. What the hell!? I have so much to fill all my internet bff's on that I just can't cram it all into 1 post. Because I suck at blogging. As well as life. So there you have it.

My baby shower was last weekend. Squee! I have to admit, I was adamant about not having one (for so many twisted reasons related to IF and loss). But so many of our family and friends wanted to have one that I finally decided it would be okay. As long as it was small. And not filled with the crazy.

Turns out I was a hot mess of emotions at the turnout of people that came. People that care about us, know how much we've struggled, and are genuinely happy to see us finally turn the page. Ah, I'm getting all choked up all over again!

It was great, it was fun, there was cake. What else can I say? So so so many baby clothes that I actually wake in the middle of the night with an anxiety attack over how many clothes of each size we'll need, and if I should exchange any. Ridiculous. Yes, I know this. Pictures to follow, as soon as I can get my hands on some.

The day before the baby shower was another story all together. I had a half day at work and went home to relax for the rest of the day. Anyways, I was getting my relax on, when there was a gush of fluid. My husband was at the lake for the weekend (hour and a half away). So I call Dr. POC, and got over to her office in a mad dash. 3 cervical tests later (on an already irritable cervix, as she calls it), and it was officially confirmed that yes, I did indeed pee my pants. Lovely.

Fortunately, I did not pee my pants during a fun photo session my friend Joanne, at Minor Moments Photography, did a couple of weeks ago.

Pics from 31 weeks:

Infertiles here, infertiles there, infertiles everywhere

You know the old term, misery loves company. It's terrible, but I get so excited when I meet another infertile.

It's happened twice at work in the last few weeks. The first was with a coworker I used to work with in another department 5 years ago. She saw that I was KU and mentioned that she had just found out that she was KU as well. I don't know how it came up but she said that they'd been trying for a few years and had to use Clomid to get their BFP. I was all like, Shut the front door! We shared war stories about losses, etc. I left our conversation feeling like I wasn't alone, I'd met another one in the Sisterhood. Warm and fuzzy, bunnies and puppies.

The second exchange was most unexpected. It was with an external partner of my company that I work with on a regular basis. He's called a couple times in the last few months to see how things are going with the bug. In this conversation he was telling me about his 3 year old daughter, his wife's pregnancy, labor, delivery, etc. I made the critical error of asking if they were going to have more children.

His response: It's in God's hands. My response: OH MY GOD! You're an INFERTILE?!
I could tell he clearly wasn't comfortable talking about the specifics of their situation, but suffice it to say that a kinship was formed.

Some win the battle sooner than others. But we've all cried the same tears and felt the same pain.

It's funny, misery does love company. It's comforting know that brothers and sisters have walked this path before us, and there will be many more after us.

Long time no see

I realize that the amount of my suckage has reached infinite levels. I could say something like: I've been in meetings with the executives at NASA for weeks now and just haven't had a spare second to write a measly post.

Or

Barack called and invited me to spend a few weeks at Camp David with him and the fam. And, well, it's been so long since we've caught up, I couldn't resist.

But the truth is that anything that requires me to put down my spoon of Edy's Slow Churned Double Fudge Brownie for one second is clearly outside of my realm of consideration.

This human growing experiment has it's moments. And by "moments" I mean, back pain, foot pain, swelling, pure sexiness, really. And I don't want to come across all woe is me on you, because I fully appreciate where I am. But, I will say, that I didn't come into this with any expectations, because I never expected to get knocked up. Then when I did, I didn't expect to STAY knocked up. Especially for this long.

Psychoanalysis anyone?

Anyways, here I am.

Picking up from the last post, I had a visit with Dr. POC and she did an FFN (fetal fibronectin), to tell if the spotting might be a sign of pre term labor. It came back negative, and all has been well since then. *knock on wood* *wish on star* *praise to ali babba*

In other news, my husband insists that I am a nesting fool. I, however, contend that I am simply making space for another human being that will be taking up residence in our abode relatively soon, as this babymaker motel for 2 is quickly running out of vacancy.

Simply put, our house is a disaster and we aren't even close to being prepared for this bug's arrival. In any way. Shape or form.

We have not selected a daycare. And we have not made a final decision on what my work situation will look like (PT vs. FT vs. living on the streets).

Also, we have not made any progress on selecting a name. I know, shock and awe.

But we have been enjoying every spare second at our cottage on a lake about an hour from here (because it's been 90 mother flipping degrees up here for the last 2 weeks!!) and blindly hoping that the rest will fall into place. It will, won't it?

AND as a side note (which deserves a post of it's own) I FINALLY put away my fertility meds, and the cadillac. I waited until 31 weeks because I was afraid of being jinxed? Yes. *knock on wood* *wish on star* *praise to ali babba*

Next appointment with Dr. POC is on Friday. I'm desperately trying to think of a good story to get her to put me out of work.

How about, my work gives me seizures? I pass out foaming at the mouth unless working on a situation directly related to babies, or baby making?

I need ideas. I know you've got them.

L&D? Is that like D&B?

27w1d
The fun times just never end over here in my faux-functional gestation. Over the weekend there was more spotting. End of story. Thanks for playing. Please come again.

I am a broken record with this spotting business. It happened on Saturday, more than I've had in the past. I called Dr. POC to have her paged, but she had another doctor covering for her. I explained to him my whole disfunctional history of unexplained spotting. He told me to get thy ass to L&D to get checked. I, however, did not. I decided to keep an eye on it (which I didn't have any more over the weekend, so I wasn't worried about it).

Monday morning, I called my doctors office to let them know what had happened. Turns out Dr. POC was out Monday & Tuesday. I'll give you one guess what the nurses told me to do... Get they ass to L&D. I called the on call doctor back to let him know I'd decided to go, which was when he informed me that he'd talked it over with Dr. POC and she said not to go unless it had continued or gotten worse. So I didn't.

I'm seeing Dr. POC tomorrow for a regular appointment (and gest. diab. test). Am planning on having a serious discussion with her about all of this.

My main concerns are that the spotting stopped for 2 months, but has now started back up again. Is it going to get worse as the hostage gets bigger? And, if we can't figure out why it's happening, then how are we able to predict what will happen in the future?

In the beginning, I was fine with taking things one day at a time. But at this point, call me a nervous Nelly, but I want a healthy baby.

Why would I expect anything less than a faux functional pregnancy? It's awesome that my "normal" is classified as effed up for people with normal pregnancies.


To make up for the stupid look from last week, this one was taken yesterday at 27w

In other news, my feet have completely disappeared from view. I'm hoping the local kids don't get any cow tipping ideas.

26w1d

By not so popular demand...

Not sure why I'm giving myself such a bad look. It's probably a look of disgust from the breakfast crumbs all over my face.

Yes, I am sparing you (and myself) a bare belly shot, as my belly button is half in and half out at this point. That's hot.

How I got into p.orn

It's no secret that the jubley's take a turn for the enormous when one is in my condition. I have always been a fairly endowed girl so I looked forward to the increase in bustline with enthusiasm.

In the beginning, it was fantastic. Tiny little pouch of a belly, big honking bewbies.

But as the belly got bigger, so did the girls. So I went to our old friends at VS this weekend to have these ponies measured.... Let's just say the porn industry is the only place you can find a 32E. I'll be sticking with sports bras, kthanksbye.

I made an off schedule appointment with Dr. Piece of Cake today because I've been feeling generally run down lately, flu like, and lots of pelvic pressure.

At the end of the ultrasound, blood pressure monitoring, temperature taking, oxygen monitoring she told me it was normal pregnancy progression and to get the hell over it. Which I will promptly try to do.

My little hostage is getting bigger and bigger. And the living quarters are getting smaller and smaller. Turns out his head is lodged in my vag, which explains the pelvic pressure and vag pain I've had for the last 4 days. I asked Dr. POC how we could get him out of that position.

Dr. POC: Oh, he'll be out of that position in about 3 months.

Me: Who brought the comedian?

And then I punched her. And cried.

Apparently the preshus little bug is unlikely to move. He will just get bigger... and bigger... and bigger. Fun. I told K to imagine a bowling ball lodged in his rectum. That's right, think about THAT for the rest of the day while you're in meetings at work. Your welcome.

Anyways, I'll continue my quest to "getting over it." Wish me luck.

Here's the story of a man named Brady

Once upon a time, in a land far far away,
there was a man and woman who dreamed for this day.

Years ago they talked about what they would name their future boy.
Never did they imagine their audience would also enjoy
the very same name.

Who knew the mans mother could be so shady?
One week later she came home with a dog, named Brady.

And that is the story of our K's mother stole our name. And now our boy is nameless. Ideas? Suggestions? Anyone want to throw poo in this general vicinity?

Mudder's Day

I received a very early Mudder's Day gift from my little Mr. Kick Split Kick (Cause I'm 50! 50 years old! Tell me someone remembers that SNL skit?)

It was right around 2:30am. I was in blissful dreamland. Because obviously pregnancy dreams are blissful and dreamlandy. If blissful = the craziest ass shit you've ever dreamt about in your life, then yes.

I was jolted awake out of my Tex.as Chains.aw Massacre dream with a calf cramp that I can only describe as... no I can't. I can't even describe it.

I grabbed K like a hyena on a butterball screaming and flailing in total hysteria.



As utterly ridiculous as that was, the significance of Mudder's Day is not lost on me. I know it's a day that just twists the knife for many. I know the twist of that knife because I've felt it before. And I still feel it.

It seemed like everyone at work, and even some family (who will remain nameless), went out of their way to wish me a Happy 1st Mother's Day. Which is so nice and thoughtful, but it brings back the ache. And I want to say, "This isn't my first Mother's Day!"

But I didn't. Why? Maybe I wanted to avoid the pitiful exchange and the "I'm sorry's". Maybe I didn't want to make people feel bad when they had good intentions. Maybe I couldn't bear to talk about it.

I hate Mother's Day. Because I've been through IF (in a mild way compared to many of you). And I know the hurt that the day can bring. Going through IF, we have the reminder in our hearts every day of what we are or are not. Of what we do or don't have. But on this day, do we really need the world to rub that reminder in our faces too?

Fuck it. I say we rename the day National FMP. (Fuck Me Pumps, for the late comer). And every year, on said day, we treat ourselves to a new pair of FMP.

Let's all get a new pair of shoes, an iced cappucino and be done with it.

Gimme 5

We've officially hit the halfway mark peeps! Holy hot damn, if the second half goes as fast as the first half I am going to be in a mother load of turd in no time!

I've been able to feel the baby boy move for about a month now, which is so cool, but still so surreal. As the weeks go on the movements are definitely getting stronger, it's still so bizarre to me to connect those movements to a human though. A human that is occupying my abdomen. And movements that are becoming distinctly body parts.

When K got back from Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago I thought for sure the movements would be strong enough for him to feel from the outside. And they were strong enough to feel from the outside, if only K was patient enough to wait for a movement. lol

At 18w5d I sat down and ate a bowl of ice cream to get the bugger moving. K would run in and put his hand on my stomach for all of 20 seconds before giving up. I kept telling him to be patient, to no avail.

Finally, at 18w6d, I was laying flat and he was laying on his side next to me with his forearm resting on my stomach. And then... out of nowhere... a little *punch punch*

Me: ZOMG, Did you feel it?!

K: Yup (sans my level of exuberance)

Me: ... Well what did you think it would be a high 5!?

I think he was probably a bit freaked out by the alien life form taking over his wife's body. Fine with me. I was excited enough for the both of us.

Spread 'em!

As opposed to popular belief, the world in fact did not stop on 4/19, the day before our BIG ultrasound. I did not, however, get a flipping wink of sleep that night. Literally.

There is no better flavor of crazy than a 5 month pregnant woman about to find out the gender of her spawn with zero hours of sleep under her gigantic maternity belt.

Thank the sweet baby jesus that we had the first appointment of the day. I was blowing through red lights and construction zones like Matthew McConaughey would be there personally to greet me.

When we arrived I tried to get myself together and wipe the foam off the corners of my mouth.

Me: Will we also be seeing Dr. Piece of Cake at this appointment?

Receptionist (who is practically like family at this point): Well, you are only seeing Dr. POC at this appointment. Did you think something else was going to happen?

Me: Don't play with me, honey. I like you and I don't want to wind up standing over you with a pillow in the middle of the night ready to smother every last breath out of you, but I will if I have to.

Rec: Well the ultrasound tech isn't here today.

Me: ...

Rec: Buuuut... there is another u/s tech here today.

Me: ...

Rec: And she doesn't have any appointments.

Me: ...

Rec: Would you like to see her now?

Me: Would I?

And I left her in a cloud of dust as I peeled off down the hall.

We met the new u/s tech.

Me: Yeah, yeah Candace, it's the pleasure of my life meeting you. Now let's get down to business.

And we did. She gooped me up and started looking around. All I could think about was getting between those little legs! She went straight for the money shot... and... the bugs feet were crossed.

You: you've got to be kidding me.

Me: So the cookies and chocolate milk I had for breakfast were for nothing!? (well, not nothing. I'll take any excuse to eat Carmel Delights for breakfast.)

She went on to check everything else she had to check (you know, to make sure the baby is normal and all). But periodically kept coming back for the money shot, but the feet were always crossed.

After about 45 minutes into it she only had the kidneys left to look at and measure, and the money shot.

Me: We're not going anywhere until you tell us if this is a girl bug or a boy bug. I KNOW you don't have any appointments today.

Candy: Oh, how nice of reception to share that with you.

Finally, the bugger uncrossed it's perfect little feet. She put "the business" on the screen and asked what we thought it was... ... ...

Me: OH MY GOD! IT'S A BOY!

And there you have it. The buglet is a boy and we are ecstatic. We did get to see Dr. POC, she said everything looks great. My weight is on the low side of normal (which is just fine with me), but she's not worried about it. Everything else just pales in comparison, doesn't it?

A boy. I can't believe it:)

I'm bringing sexy back

18 weeks

Why is it that maternity clothes are inherently not sexy? They couldn't BE less attractive. I wear things now that I would never consider wearing on a non pregnant basis. I told myself I would never do that.

But alas, I am a walking hypocrite of polka dots and empire waists.

I have worn polka dots 2 days in a row now, and it's only TUESDAY! I have nothing against the dots, they're just not for me. We'll see if I can't pick up another one tonight and make it a dot trifecta this week. The only thing that can make a polka dot sexy is a Vict.oria's Secret model. For real peeps. And you know it.

I also have nothing against the empire waists. EXCEPT that they never make the boob part big enough. In the pic below, you can't tell (I hope), but my bustline continues a solid two inches below the empire waist band. I'm like muffin topping my boobs.

In other news, I've felt the little buglet move for the last couple of weeks. At first, it was only every couple of days, so I wasn't sure if it was the bug or not. But now I'm sure it is. It's happening about every day, which is cool:)

My honey is in Las Vegas for work this week:( Yes, I also have a "business trip" coming up next week to the Bahamas. Riiiight;) Normally, I like to douse a bottle of white when he is on business trips. It helps me relax, okay, don't judge me. I suppose now I'll be staring at the ceiling all evening. Oh well!

For now, I leave you with an 18 week shot because this post blows Vic.toria's Secret models.

Words that start with F

17w2d

Omg, I am such a bad blogger. I know this. Dare I say... things have been... quiet?

No, I don't dare say that. At all. It's like turning your back to the ocean. Get ready cause you are about to get ripped by a big one.

That was a far more graphic image than I intended. If you have a dirty mind. Like me.

My days have been filled with constipation. And thinking good thoughts about Number Two. And FIBER. Lots of motherFLIPPING FIBER.

Constipation = straining = spotting. Another delightful image. Not bad though, just like 2 drops, and only when I wipe. And I've been for a gazillion ultrasounds, so we know there's nothing wrong with the bug or his/her uterine playground.

Dr. POC: Drink more water.

Me: If I drink any more water I'm going to drown my baby.

Dr. POC: Eat more fiber.

Me: Not possible unless I add more meals to the day.

Dr. POC: Take stool softener.

Me: Did you just say stool?

So I tried the aforementioned SS because the spotting and constipation was sending me into delirium.

I will not go into another graphic story about poo. But I will give you two words: Soft Serve.

And the SS's were no more.

I am going to try Act.ivia. Has anyone had success with this?

I give you my word (because that is worth so much), my next several posts will not include TMI from the heiny department.

Does this baby make me look fat?

This weekend we had a tiny peep show of my favorite season... summah! It hit a high of 70! Holy hot martha focker you can bet your sweet ass I was out in my bikini. No shame!

A couple hours later my father in law called and wanted to stop by. I told K to give him fair warning of the bikini situation, but that didn't sway him. Whatever, enter at your own risk!

Anyways, it was freaking fantastic. It's been in the 40's and raining since. Zzzzz...

In other news, we had an appointment with Dr. Piece of Cake yesterday. Everything really is a POC for her. She called me a flaming drag queen because I haven't stopped taking the vagi vitamins yet.

Oops, my bad.

Apparently, "most" patients stop them at 12 weeks.

Obviously I am "most" patients.

I asked her what the odds were that there could be a problem with the placenta not producing progesterone. She said 0%. As in, none.

So last night I did not take one, and I prayed to the gods of Ali Babba all night that my busy little bug wouldn't die.

Our next appointment we'll get to find out the gender, April 20th.

Is it April 20th yet?

And now for the promised bump pic, 15 weeks, sans bikini. I may have been willing to torture my father in law with my cellulite covered self, but I will NOT do that to you my friends.

Unconvictable

Omg you guys, I finally figured out how to add a ticker to my page. God, I am so smart. And it only took... like... 4 hours and 37 minutes. Wow.

I am not in love with the Lilypie ticker like I am in love with Girl Scout Samoa cookies. So if you've seen a cooler one, please don't hesitate to share.

How can it be that Girl Scout cookie season is upon us just as I start reaching the Terrified of Being a Fatso stage? You see, I've always been a small person, but over the last several weeks I have transformed into quite the heifer. I look similar to what one would look like if they swallowed a hippopotamus. I can't sugar coat the truth peeps, I just can't.

It is this self image that makes me feel like I will go Son of Sam on the next person that says any of the below statements to me.

-"It's okay, you're eating for 2 now!!!" nice way of saying you look like a cow in a tutu.
-"Don't worry, you won't get fat, you'll just look like you swallowed a beach ball." Pressure, anyone?
And... my personal favorite:
-"Oh wow, look at your bump!! I didn't start showing with my first baby until I was 5 months!" The people that say this to me are immediately stabbed in the cornea with a stilleto heel. thankyouverymuch, please come again.

The next person that makes one of these comments to me will find an ice pick lodged in their ear drum. I suffer from progesterone poisening and I will not hesitate to serve up a knuckle sandwich to the mouthy and ill restrained. After all, I'm unconvictable. No jury is going to convict a pregnant woman that is foaming at the mouth, mostly out of pity.

Babycenter.com says I should gain between 25 - 35lbs. If I end up putting on 35lbs, I may throw myself out a window. But according to the babies at The Babycenter.com I am already 1 pound over where I should be at this time to be on track for gaining 35lbs. I feel an anorexia flare up coming on.* Why? Why do they insist on setting me up for failure?

I may post a belly pic soon. Depending on if I can find a foxy cute preggo and leave a trail of Girl Scout cookies to my belly pic lair.

I leave you with a pic of the bug from 12 weeks


*I do not, nor have I ever had anorexia, although I've tried many times to pick it up.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

One year ago my life fell apart. Today marks the 1 year anniversary of my ectopic pregnancy. It's a day I've watched approach on the calendar for months.

On one hand it seems so long ago, and on the other it feels like an eternity has passed.

I'm generally not one with a great memory, but I remember every excruciating detail of that day. Like it's burned in my mind.

As I was going about my business this morning getting ready for work I kept thinking to myself: exactly one year ago at this minute, I had no idea that my life was about to turn upside down in a matter of hours. But that didn't stop it from happening.

I planned for a long time to take this day off. To spend it by myself. Reliving the day and every gut wrenching detail. To go over my grief journal, which I've never reread. And to look at the pictures, which I've never brought myself to look at.

But as the day grew closer, and I started to feel the intensity of those feelings again, I decided not to. My heart started to feel the hurt of the loss and the trauma of nearly losing my life. I just can't allow myself to go back to that place again. That grief is like a black pit with no guarantee of safe return. Was there ever a safe return?

Yes, the hope of new life does ease the pain of the loss, I can't lie about that. It makes it much more bearable, but I still think about the ep every day. It's a part of me and a part of who I am.

I remember in the days and weeks after it happened wondering if I would ever be the same. I was so afraid because I knew I would be different, but I didn't know how.

One year later I can say that I am different. I am more thankful, more grateful and more appreciative of the ones I love and the world around me. It took me a long time to get here.

I don't know what the future holds for this pregnancy or future ones, but I hope my heart never has to know hurt like that again.

In the meantime, I'm thankful for every day. If that means I don't get another day, than I'm thankful for what I had while I had it. I wont live my life in fear because of loss, grief or IF.


To my precious one, I see your halo shining every day. You're always in my heart. xo

Coming out of the closet

11w3d
We officially came out of the closet at our works yesterday. I was dreading it because announcement emails are generally so ghey.

It went well though. I sent out this email to my office:

Subject: Letting the cat out of the bag

In case you've been wondering... Banana Republic does not carry a maternity line. I checked.

And chaos unsued. I ended up telling a week before I wanted to, but my gut is getting nearly impossible to hide. A lot of my coworkers confessed that they noticed the bump a week ago. On the plus side, at least they thought I was knocked up and not just getting fat, right?

In the process of telling the office, I found out about a second hand maternity store a couple towns over. I'm going to check it out this weekend because honestly, the selection around here is piss poor.

In other news: the appointment on Monday was great. (I did not have to have an annual exam after all, thankyouverymuch. And much to the contrary of my tendency to exaggerate, I did not smell like shiat all day. I don't think.) We heard the little ticker going strong at 174 bpm's. I looked at Keith and said, Holy shit! I think there's a baby in there!
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In other, other news: more sad news on the family front. My dad had to put his 9 year old german shepherd, Kane, down last week. Because they haven't been through enough in the last month, right? Kane had stopped eating, lost 15 pounds in a matter of a week and a half. The vet thought it might be Lyme Disease. After a week of antibiotics he was getting worse, and they found out it was cancer. So sad.

I never really expounded on the story of how my dad's stepson passed. Long story short, Elijah had been at a drug rehab center in Montreal, Canada for a couple of months. One morning the Center called my dad's wife and said they were closing their doors in 2 hours. They dropped all the patients off at the airport, with no food and no money. So my dad and his wife drove 15 hours to get him. Elijah overdosed on his first night home.
Anyways, the TV station CBC, in Canada, called The 5th Estate is doing a show on the entire situation. If you're in Canada, check it out. I'm not sure of the exact date yet, but I know it will be in March.

In more sad news (I am really bringing the sad today, right?), my brother in law and sister in law lost their baby at 12 weeks last week. She'd been having a lot of pain around 8 weeks, went in for a scan and everything looked okay. At her 12 week check they noticed the baby had stopped growing at 8 weeks. Her EDD was 9 days before mine. I can't imagine having to watch someone's pregnancy progress where yours should be. It's going to be a sensitive situation, for sure.

Anyways, what a smorgesbourg of a post! Note to self: work on train of thought.