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.