the maniacal mommy

She's here...well...she's been here for awhile

2011-06-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

For the record, Klaire Charlotte Abigail was born March 14, at 8:10 a.m. weighing 8 pounds, 4 ounces, and 19.5 inches in length.

Here's a few pictures of her first few days:

And now...three months later (gasp):

More Pink, but feeling a bit blue

2010-11-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

I know no one reads this blog anymore, but that's okay. Why should they - I hardly ever post anything. Just like LadyBug's baby book, I just can't seem to find time to update anything anymore. I recently realized that we didn't take any video or pictures of LB's first steps. None! That's a fairly big event and yet it slipped right past me. Poor baby#2...I can only imagine this gets worse. Of course now I know why my own baby book, as baby #4 in my family, had like three things filled out.

But, right now I need to whine. Just a little. Even if no one is there to listen. Which is probably a good thing since this is really pathetic of me. But I need to vent something. Air it out. Let it go.

We found out last week that #2 is a girl. A healthy, perfectly normal (as far as they can tell), little girl. Awesome, right? I mean this is a TRUE miracle. This is a baby that didn't cost $30K. Didn't take two + years to happen. Didn't cause undue worrying and excessive depression. This is a fantastic, wonderful, amazing gift from God. Yet, away from everyone else, usually in my car or in bed while DH sleeps, I moan. I cry. I mourn.

And here's where it's probably a good thing that no one reads this: I'm sad it's not a boy. There. I've said it. It's out. Pathetic, right? But still true.

I just always thought of myself as a "boy's mom." I don't know why. Maybe because I love football. Maybe because I want that special relationship between a boy and his mom.

But the real reason is because I'm afraid of raising girls. Raising one girl is scary enough. Actually - it is petrifying! But two? There's no WAY I'm getting out of raising two girls without at least one of them hating my guts and doing some unthinkable thing to get back at me. I just really can't stand all the drama and hormones associated with us girls. We girls are a handful and boys seem, well, much more simple.

We have a TON of girls in our family. There are three girls and a boy on my side. My brother had one son, my sisters only had girls. My husband doesn't have any siblings. In addition to my own disappointment, I can visibly tell that my extended family is disappointed. Of course they wouldn't say anything, but I can tell. So, of course, I feel like I'm letting them all down, too.

I want to buy corduroys and little ties and sweater vests. I want to decorate a room with lions and tigers and baseball stuff. I hate glitter and lace and disn.ey princesses and pink.

At the end of the day, I know that it's not about what we want or what we get, or who we let down. I KNOW that God's plan is way bigger than mine and there's a reason he gave us (BLESSED us!) with another girl. I know that I have so much to be thankful for - especially that this pregnancy has been fairly uneventful and ALL of the tests have been great. And I know there's a lot of great things about raising sisters and that there's lots of mom's out there who would die for a little girl. But. But. But. I still am sad. Just a little. I'll get over it.

Reminiscing in the Shoe Aisle

2010-09-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

The other day I got a hall pass and went to one of my favorite places. Tarjay. For whatever reason, roaming those wide aisles jammed-packed with things I don't need but think I do, is soothing.

Enjoying my few moments of peace alone (for once!), I came to the toddler shoes. Lady Bug will certainly inherit my innate sense of style and love of all things foot related. She already has an ungodly amount of shoes and she only wears them a few times a week which is really such a shame.

I had the strangest feeling, standing there in the narrow aisle. I felt like an impostor. Like I was totally pretending that I had a 1-year old that I could buy shoes for. It seemed like everyone passing me by was giving me the hairy eyeball and thinking, "she's not a mom, she's a fake. A wannabe."

Prior to Lady Bug there were YEARS of wandering aisles. Yearning for the chance to buy a onesie or pick out a crib. Even though now it's a reality, it often doesn't feel real. I don't feel like a mom. I feel like someone playing the role of a mom, and often times not doing such a great job at it.

The old familiar feeling caught me off guard and I got big tears in my eyes which surely made some passer-by's do a double take. Because, who cries over kids shoes? Me apparently.

It's another reminder that infertility stays with you. It's a part of who you are. A piece of the puzzle that you can't just forget about.

Here Comes the Doldrums

2010-09-10T17:15:00.000-07:00

Fall is here. In Seattle that means rain is in full session for the next nine months. Usually our Septembers are fantastic, but fall came early this year with nothing even remotely resembling our usual glorious Indian summers.

Out came the sweaters. And the socks. And the jackets. Back go the shorts, t-shirts, sandals and flip-flops. Sigh.

This crappy weather is really playing havoc with Lady Bug. She LOVES to go outside, and I've discovered it's really no fun at all to chase a 1-year old around in the rain, making sure she doesn't throw herself into a puddle or rub mud all over herself. I guess I'll have to muster up some creative indoor games.

It doesn't really help, though, when she sees the dogs going outside. She totally bangs on the door and has a big fit. She just loves being outside. Rain or shine. Unlike me who totally just wants to curl up on my bed with a blanket and a good book. Which I probably wont get to do for at least another twenty years.

We had our nuchal fold scan yesterday. Everything looked good, which was a big relief. I forgot how nerve wracking this time is. My morning sickness has eased up and I don't feel any kicking or movement, yet. It's almost like I can pretend that I've just gained some weight from eating way too much and this whole pregnancy thing is a cruel joke. Seeing the ultrasound yesterday was very reassuring. Little hands and feet moving around. They think it's a girl. Too early to know for sure, but that was our tech's guess.

This weekend will be full of chores that we didn't get done last weekend. Double sigh. Lately I've been just longing for even a few hours when I can just sit and do nothing. Just relax. With no toddlers melting down or dirty clothes to wash or dogs to smell. A woman can dream.

Pick and Paint

2010-08-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

The nanny called me at work yesterday. There was a lot of sighing, and a definite note of irritation.

"I heard Kate on the monitor and went upstairs to get her. I found her with a handful of poop, rubbing it in her hair, on the crib, her bedding - everywhere!"

For once I was really, really, glad that I'm a working mom. It was like 90 degrees out, and her little room is really stuffy. I'm sure with my morning sickness, there would have been another color mixed into her palette.

It reminded me of that "the Nanny" episode where the little girl had a habit of reaching down her diapers and grabbing her crud and would fling it everywhere. I hope to GOD that doesn't happen.

But, in other ways, I can claim that my daughter is a "butt"ing artist. Badump-ching!

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a heartbeat

2010-08-16T11:30:00.000-07:00

So, I weasled my way into seeing Itty Bitty doc a week early. I just could-not-stand-it another minute. Even though I am SO sick, and have been every day for the past MONTH, I had, of course, convinced myself that I was un-pregnant. That something had gone awry. That the miracle status of my womb was in fact temporary and no longer occupied with a little tiny beginning of baby #2.

But, we saw the heartbeat. We didn't hear it, but we saw it, up on the big screen, fluttering away. SIGH OF RELIEF. I know we're not totally out of the woods, but it measured the right size and there was a definite tiny little heart doing its thing. And the little black and white grainy picture the doctor gave us is on the fridge to remind us that it's there (as if my constant nausea wasn't enough).

It's all so surreal. We've told just a few people, and it's almost as if I'm watching a movie of someone else. My mom is beside herself. Can't believe it. I just pull my shirt tight around my ever expanding belly and say, "believe it!" Because I have totally popped already. I'm trying to keep everything on the down-low for another few weeks, but the muumuu shirts are kinda a dead giveaway, don't you think?

Nothing to Report Cuz I've got No Reporting

2010-07-21T12:44:00.000-07:00

I've discovered I'm not a real fan of getting knocked-up naturally. For one, the total lack of information is just not for me. I called my OB/GYN and trumpeted my miraculous news and all I got was: "when was the first day of your last cycle? Oh...four weeks ago? Well...we won't see you for at least another month."

Wait a minute.

I must have went to at least 50 different appointments with my IVF. No joke. There was the whole pre-IVF testing, then the meds, and the training sessions for the shots, and then the actual Day Of. Then there was the post-IVF visits. I swear we were driving to our clinic every day for at a month. The testing, the blood work, the ultrasounds. Not to mention acupuncture and counseling sessions.

Now I just feel so neglected! My doctor doesn't even care about me! "We'll see you in a month!" Whaaaaa???

Don't-You-Understand-Lady?? I need information! I need to know what's goin' on down there! Shouldn't I be taking something? Anything? Shouldn't you be putting something up my netheregions and calling all your doctor friends to take a peek? Isn't there some sort of magic cocktail my husband should be injecting into my behind every night for an entire month?

It's just too easy which makes it way to disconcerting.

So. Here I sit. I have no numbers to report. I don't know how many follicles I had, how many eggs, how many embies, what my hcg levels were or are. I'm praying that this is the real deal and trying really hard to be patient. Worried that I don't have enough nausea, or that I've got too much. Or that it's disappeared altogether.

I'm trying to come up with some sort of excuse to get into the doctor earlier. I'll be starting my 10th week before I get to see her! I'll be practically into my second trimester! Ready to give birth at any moment! Maybe if I just call and beg with my whiniest voice they'll give in.

How do "normal" ladies do this? There must be some kind of stick I can pee on or monitor I can hook up to. If not, maybe I'll come up with something and make a kajillion dollars so I can actually afford #2!

Time for Number 2?

2010-07-16T16:31:00.001-07:00

I know no one reads this thing anymore. Who would? I haven't posted in like, I don't know, two, maybe three months? For the record, here's a pic of Ladybug on her first birthday:
She's walking everywhere, and starting to say things like, "ooohhhh pretty," and "Oh Boy!" Well, at least we think that's what she's saying.

The real reason for this post? I'M PREGNANT!

It's true. I have no one to tell. So I had to tell someone. My blogger friends who no longer read my blog. But at least I have it out there.

The unbelievable actually happened. We wanted to start trying in February or March, even had the Clomid on-hand. Tried taking it in May, but DH ended up having to go out of town that weekend. The next month was Ladybugs Big Birthday Bash and we had Mom-in-law in town. So, no business besides being busy that weekend.

Then, last month, I went pee, and lo-and-behold, yes, this is TMI, I saw CEW! Seemingly impossible, I OPK'd and it came up with double lines for ovulation! This has NEVER happened. Ever. So, unbeknownst to my DH, we got down to business.

I swear, the next day, I KNEW I was pregnant. I was all crampy, I was exhausted. And this continued until 3 days before AF was due to arrive. I POS'd and WHAM that thing was positive! Crazy! Really crazy. I kept thinking: this is how it happens for most people. The most expensive thing was the test. I was so freaking out I went to Tar.get and bought another box and did them in their restrooms. Double Positive!

So, I'm freaking out. Not telling anyone but a very few close friends. Not telling my mom because her mouth is the size of Texas and she'll tell everyone she comes in contact with. And, I'm telling you, my long-lost blogging buddies.

It's Snot Funny

2010-04-26T23:08:00.000-07:00

LadyBug has had a cold for eight weeks. Eight! Don't worry, I took her to the doc after three weeks and they said she'd have to just work through it. It did go away, just to return with vengence.

No one tells you that when your baby gets a cold, all that sweetness and goodness just goes right down the toilet. Talk about fussy! But, then again, I guess I would be too, if I couldn't blow all that snot out my nose. Poor ladybug has to just sit and let that crap run down at its own leisurely pace. Yesterday while feeding her, it funneled right into her mouth. A new strain of baby food was created - fruit n' phlegm. Mmmmmm. She didn't seem to mind too much.

I had enough, though, when as I was holding her and I looked down on my arm and it was covered in green snot. The damn had released and it flowed right onto me! When she had woken up, there was snot completely caked around and in her nostrils. There was snot in her eyes. She could hardly open them because so much snot was caked everywhere. Poor thing. Miserable.

When I took her to the pediatrician, they had me enter through the "sick child" entrance. Talk about feeling like a boil on someone's butt! I understand...I thought she had pink eye and that stuff is horribly contageous. But entering the clinic through a back door where you had to just wait until someone noticed you and could quickly find you a room...downright unsettling.

At least she's on antibiotics and the snot river should slow to a trickle and then dry up altogether. I went to the doc, too, because I'm sure we keep passing the stuff back and forth. The joys of parenting that they just don't tell you about.

My, What a New House You Have

2010-04-26T00:36:00.000-07:00

So much has happened since my last post (and no, I'm not pregnant, thank-you very little!). We have been wanting to move to the 'burbs (gasp!) for a couple of years. With the real estate market in the tank, we've put it off. We decided back in March that we would get our house spruced up, and put it on the market in June and see what happened. So, of course any free chance I got I would end up on Red.fin, checking out all the big fancy houses that you can get for a song compared to our rinky dink fixer upper in Seattle proper.

Fast forward to just about five weeks ago. We decided to go for a drive and visit a burb about 10 minutes north of us. We didn't know much about it, printed off a few MLS's, and checked them out. All of the houses were in super clean, well maintained, beautiful neighborhoods, but one of them stood out from all the rest. It was amazing. It was on a culdesac. It had sidewalks. From the pics on the website, it had been completely remodeled inside. There wasn't a thing needing to be done to it. And it was in our price range. We were hooked. We called our realtor and sheepishly told him we really needed to see this house - it surely wouldn't last long (had only been on the market 8 days) at that price. He agreed and we saw it the next day and was even more impressed with the inside. The owner must have spent all her time cleaning the place - it was so insanely clean.

Next day - made a contingent offer.

Day after that - they accepted.

5 days later - put our house on the market (whaaaaa? That was so insane. Going from crazy messy house with a million to-do projects and painting. Ugh. 5 practically all-nighters).

Next day - got offer on our house (one day on market!)

Day after that - mutual acceptance

closing - THIS Friday!

It's true. We have to be out of our house in five days. We've been packing like crazy people and have had to rent FOUR storage units b/c our new house doesn't close for two weeks after this one. As luck would have it, we're in Maui for those two weeks, so being homeless isn't too bad. But, staging a house, packing a house, and moving a house with a 10 month old is absolutely insane. I do not recommend it unless you enjoy being poked in the eye with a sharp stick, because it is painful. But, Maui and a lovely new home looms. I just need to get through the next few days.

I've missed you, bloggy friends! I hope all is well with you~

30 day countdown starts with a SHOT

2010-03-01T02:15:00.000-08:00

I got my second round of the varicella vaccine this week, fancy term for Chicken Pox. Apparently I never had it as a child (the pox). I thought all kids of my generation had it. Mothers loved to hustle their child over to the nearest kid with the pox, expose them, and get the rite of childhood passage over and done with. I guess my mom never got around to doing it with me. I found out right before my IVF that I didn't have the immunity. You can read all about the drama that came with that here.

NO ONE in Seattle carries the varicella vaccine. Which is weird, because I guess they give it to all babies/kids now. It seriously took my Doc an entire week to track it down at the Travel Medicine department at the UW Hospital. The same place you go to get all your crazy shots if you're traveling overseas to somewhere exotic (no, Mexico and the Bahamas don't count). I felt like a total loser going there for a Chicken Pox shot. They ask, "where are you going and when are you leaving?" I really wished I could have answered anything other than "just staying home and trying to get pregnant, thanks."

The nurse was ca-razy. No wonder she got stuck in that job. Zero bedside manners or social skills. She asked me what type of birth control I was on because if you get preggo within a month of the shot, you open yourself...well, your baby, for a whole world of hurt with birth defects. She flipped out when I told her I wasn't using birth control. It was like I was a 15 year old screwing the football team without visiting planned.parenthood first.

To make a very long story even longer, in one month, after the vaccine makes its way through my system, I will be "clear" to start trying for baby #2. We've already decided that no heroic measures will be taken. The most we're willing (and financially able) to do, is acupuncture and Clomid (which was a stretch because BigB really hates the way it makes my horns come out and my head spin around).

I have one month to get my mo-jo back. The thought of "trying" seems, well, trying. I need to figure out a way to make DOING IT fun. Not all wrapped up in pee sticks and ovulation charts and hampered by dirty diapers and teething babies.

In all reality, it probably isn't the best time for us to get knocked up or to even try. We're struggling financially and relationally. But, there's that whole age-related ticking time bomb. If we don't try now, there aren't a whole lot of months left before the eggs dry up. It's a lot of pressure to know I have like 14 months left before my baby-making days are over for good. Shop closed for business. So, here we go. Perfect timing or not. I keep telling myself LOTs of families were started/expanded without everything being perfect, right? Plus, who am I kidding. The chance of me getting pregnant on nothing but a wing and a prayer (and a bottle of clomid), isn't real high, anyhow.

Past Due

2010-02-26T10:36:00.000-08:00

We got a bill yesterday from the hospital where LadyBug was born. Eight months ago. The bill was for Kate and for her ROOM CHARGES. Yes...they charged her a cool grand for her room and board.

OK. Let's think about this. They already charged me a kajillion dollars for my room. LadyBug didn't have her own room. She shared mine. In fact, they wouldn't let her leave my room. I asked. During one of those four-hour screaming fits I begged the nurse to take her, "just for a moment" before my head spun off and twirled down the hall. Ah...no. She smiled and told me no.

So, why the bill for LadyBug's room? I'm pretty sure you can't classify that plastic thingy that sort of looks like a bassinet as a hospital room.

And board? Scuze me? How many frozen popsicles and yogurts did they give my newborn? I PROVIDED BOARD. The closest thing o food they gave LadyBug was a free sample of Sim.ilac.

I'm a little confused, dear hospital guys. What am I paying for, and why are you billing me eight months after the fact? I'd really like to contest it. I'd really like them to try to explain the charges and prove that they indeed can bill for them.

Pearly Whites at Last

2010-02-24T21:55:00.000-08:00

We "fired" NannyMann and BigB decided to take a month of Wednesdays off to cover. He texted me last Wednesday and said, "Guess what I found in Kate's mouth today?"

Freaked me out.

She's been totally shoving everything in her mouth. I was scared what she might have found on our floor that hasn't been vacuumed in, I don't know, months?? "Dog Poop?" "A quarter?" "Shards of glass?" I replied.

"Teeth!" He said.

Teeth! LadyBug has teeth. Plural! No warning whatsoever. No drooling. No fever. No whining. No tugging of ears. She's a little behind the eight ball...seeing as she's eight months, so we were looking for them. But they came on their own accord. She had grabbed BigB's hand and shoved it in her mouth and he felt the little buggers. It's now official. She's not a baby anymore. Tears in five-four-three-two-one.

Sunshiney Kinda Day

2010-02-04T13:47:00.000-08:00

What a glorious day! It's 56 degrees, the sun is shining, the birds are singing. And it's FEBRUARY! What's going on? This is Seattle....where's the rain? The grey clouds? I'm not sure, but I'll take it.

I actually went on a run (okay...JOG) during my lunch hour and ya know, it didn't suck! Which is awesome in and of itself. Because I am going to MAUI! Yeah...baby...that's right. Maui. 10 glorious days on the ocean. This will be the first time BigB and I have gone on a proper vacation since our honeymoon. It also provides proper motivation for getting into shape. Or at least better shape. I've got twelve weeks to whittle away some of the havoc on my bod.

On other fronts, LadyBug has decided to wake up every morning at 1:30 a.m. and not go back to sleep which has been great fun for all involved. After an hour and 15 minutes this morning, she finally wore herself out and fell back asleep. I'm sure I'm more exhausted than she. All she has to do is sit around and play with soft toys all day. I have to actually WORK to buy her those toys! Ungrateful little soul!

Here's a sweet pic of her that I took for her monthly calendar (see the little hearts on her dress?). How could anyone be upset with a face like that??

Is a NannyMan Trouble?

2010-01-27T08:47:00.000-08:00

Here's a question:

Would you let a man watch your baby?

Would it make a difference if he was related to you?

Would it make a difference if your baby was a boy or girl?

How about if your child was a toddler? Grade Schooler?

All day vs. a few hours?

I've been really struggling with this. With respect to equality of the sexes, I shouldn't have a problem with it, right? We, as women, have been struggling with the "glass ceiling," equal pay, and sexist remarks in the workplace, but when it comes to a man watching my baby, I get a little squeamish.

Since my mom had her knee replaced, we've been having my niece's boyfriend (29 yrs old), watch Lady Bug once a week. He's a waiter (not terribly motivated in life), and needs some extra money with the economy hitting his industry pretty hard right now.

He loves kids...wants to get married and have a truckload. Has made it clear to my niece that he'd love to be a stay-at-home dad. He is very sweet with LadyBug...but I always wonder if he's a little *too* sweet. Every week when I leave her with him, I get a little anxious and can't wait to get back home. She always seems happy and content when I return, and happy to see him each week.

Am I obsessing and not being fair?

Desperately Seeking Skinny

2010-01-15T16:30:00.001-08:00

As mentioned afore, I work on a college campus. "Fashion" stares me in the face all day long. Right now, every single girl I see has the on "skinny jeans" with boots. Seeing as I'm desperately fighting the "mom look," I went and got me some skinny jeans.

I didn't really want to spend a caboodle of cash on skinny jeans that don't actually make me look skinny or look young enough to wear them. So, I laid out a whole $11 at JCPen.ney. It's true. They were on clearance and they're kinda cute...till you look around back. There's these big-azzzz, copper-colored brads in the shape of a breast cancer/aids ribbon. I figure I'll just cover that up with one of those cute long-ish cardigan thingy that are all the rage.

So I stuff my oversized self into my skinny-sized jeans and cram on some boots, and hey, what d'ya know, I look like a middle-aged mom desperately trying not to look like a middle-aged mom. Emphasis on the desperate. You see, there's more than the average muffin-top awaiting me at the top of my newly found skinny jeans. It's not even a bagel. More like a whole damn cake...oozing out. I try disguising it with the same sweater that's covering up the cheesy design on my jean pockets which doesn't really work....layers adds more girth.

My intern noticed my skinny jeans right away. "Those are so cute!" She squealed. I know as soon as I turned my back she was texting all her friends "OMG my boss has the CHEESIEST skinny jeans on EVER. And she's got a HUGE muffin top. ROTFL."

One of the AA's took one look at me and mentioned that all I needed was a Harley to make my outfit complete. Hmmmm. Not really what I was going for.

I'm thinking that these skinny jeans sure looked a whole lot better on me when they were all the rage in Jr. High. I should probably heed the sage advice that "if it was in fashion once before in your lifetime, you probably shouldn't wear it again." But I'll probably just get a bigger sweater.

Once More for Old Times Sake

2010-01-11T22:12:00.000-08:00

I pee'd on a stick today. Somehow, someway, I had convinced myself that I was pregnant. After all that we went through to get LadyBug, I actually thought that I had managed to get knocked up all on my own. On one try. What have I been smoking??

Two weeks ago I noticed something that seemed an awful lot like EWCM. I had weaned Kate the prior month, and was expecting a period at some point. Then the slippery clear stuff. I got a little twinkle in my eye (hadn't I heard that you're most fertile after pregnancy?) and made some serious advances toward BigB. You could tell he was like, WTF, but obviously not confused enough to put up much of a fight.

Then of course all the symptoms started. Boobies a bit sore. Having to pee every two hours during the night, feeling a little queasy. I had done it! The unheard of was going to come true!
I was literally counting my projected due date, names for the new wee one, and the impending move we'd need to make with a fourth in the family. I went through the dreaded TWW, and pulled out a slightly dusty, but unexpired test from the depths of the bathroom cabinet. I waited till BigB had left for work, and then POAS with abandon and sat that little stick on my countertop and started the 60 second countdown.

No second line.

I checked that damn thing like twenty times. Even left it there and went back like an hour later, just in case it needed a little more time to read my pee correctly.

My fantasy ended up in the trash can, wrapped in paper towel to disguise my stupidity.

Being the infertile that I am, I've heard the story countless times. "As soon as you have a baby, your body will know what to do." Or, "my cousin's best friend's aunt couldn't get pregnant, and as soon as she had her first, she got pregnant on her own - didn't even plan it!" I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. And, of course, to top it off, eight hours later my favorite aunt showed up. First time in a year and a half. Funny. I still hate that biatch.

I swore up and down that I would NOT go through the emotional roller coaster of years past. If we get pregnant again, we get pregnant again. No more monthly anticipation followed with tremendous crashes. Over and over and over again. Somehow I'm going to have to find a balance. Still "trying" without getting emotionally wrapped up in it all. I'll let ya know how that works out for me.

Just Being and Not Doing

2010-01-08T22:06:00.000-08:00

BigB looked over at me tonight and said, "ya know, we've become that old couple."

We were sitting on the couch, just chillin' to some music and enjoying a little down time while LadyBug slept.

"What d'ya mean? That old couple?" I replied.

"You know. That old couple they always talk about. Where she's reading a magazine and showing him everything in it. That's what we're doing. You're reading that catalog, reading it to me, and showing me the pictures."

Its true. I was. It's a Friday night, I'm devouring the latest CrateNBarrell, and showing him practically every page. There's just so much cool stuff in there! We need it all, right? That super cool skillet that makes teeny little pancakes? That sweet mini bar? Those cute red dishes? Doesn't he want to see all this awesome stuff? I'm interested in it...shouldn't he? He is my "other half."

This is what our Friday nights have become. Hanging out with a home retailers magazine. At first glance it may seem a little sad. A little "old." But ya know, I LOVE it. Just doing nothing. Having no where to go. Nothing that has to get done.

Having a baby changes your free time. You crave it. You need it. Those few moments when you can just "be" and not "do." I never really understood it...I mean, how hard can parenting be? Ha. Endless entertaining, diapering, feeding, wailing, bathing. If the baby is awake, you're tending to her. If she's asleep, you're trying to get the kajillion other things done that you've put off: that pile of dishes, the laundry, brushing your teeth, showering.

And then comes the night. When she's finally asleep. The monitor makes no noise but a soothing buzz. Then it's my time. I'll sacrifice sweet sleep for a few hours of nothingness. By the time I have more than a few hours of alone time before bed, I'll have to wear readers and it'll be the latest edition of AARP.

I'm a Big Girl Now

2010-01-03T22:37:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve I wore a very low-cut dress. I had to squeeze myself into it. It was embarrassing. BigB had to help me zipper the thing up. BUT, lemme tell you, my girls looked GOOD. I felt more than a little self-conscious, but BigB was practically begging me to wear it while wiping up his drool with his sleeve.

We headed out for the evening. Our first stop for the evening was two window seats at a little swanky bar. The valet outside, I swear, was staring at my little ladies through the window. He unabashedly oogled his way not once, but three times past our window. Didn't matter that BigB could've thrown him to the ground and made him into a mincemeat pie.

The waiter walked by, looked down into the cleavage, and muttered some uninteligeable guttural sounds, similar to the dad in the Christmas Story as he watched his Christmas Turkey get devoured by the Bumpkis' dogs. Couldn't discern a word.

As we crossed the street to the restaurant, some very drunk college boy stopped my husband and asked, "is this your sister? cuz she looks really good." Again, BigB could have tromped the little sophomore with one hand tied behind his back, but this kid thought my chest worth the risk.

I was loving it. Almost made the six months of breastfeeding worth it. I felt pretty powerful and made me think about all the girls out there with a lifetime of huge melons and what they're able to manipulate. But alas, I did wean sweet LadyBug so I imagine this prowess is short lived. I didn't MEAN to wean her...it was supposed to be a gradual thing, but as soon as I stopped pumping at work it just completely dried up. Now it's just a matter of time before I'm back to my B's.

It's a New Year

2010-01-01T23:37:00.000-08:00

Okay...so I have to keep my New Year's Resolution (to actually keep this blog going). So, here's a post. See! I can keep my resolution! The others are to exercise more and to say "no" to deserts. Those I sadly failed at already.

2009 was an awesome year. Really. I feel so blessed. Every day I'm amazed that God gave me this sweet little girl to love and care for. I'm still blown away that she's here. Having her has made me realize how fortunate I am. I have a job. I have a loving, caring husband. I'm healthy. My family is healthy. I have a home.

I'm looking forward to what 2010 will bring. I look forward to this new outlook on life - that it'll cast a faintly rose-colored hue...just enough to remind myself of all the good things life has to offer.

And, just so you can see for yourself, here's little Lady Bug herself. Showing off the sweet little smile that just makes my heart burst.

Last night me and Big B rang in the new year by dining at Serious Pie and then going to see the Seattle Symphony (Beethoven's 9th), with a little Salsa dancing afterward. It was the most fun we've had in a long time. Lady Bug stayed overnight with my parents, and I didn't worry a bit (her first time away from us overnight). It was the perfect start to the New Year.

Car Seat Shopping Can Be So Bittersweet

2009-12-05T00:32:00.000-08:00

Last night we spent a few blessed HOURS at Babi.es.RUs. Because, dear, sweet, Lady Bug has outgrown her infant car seat. Yep..little girl is at the 98% for height and weight and has simply outgrown the thing. Her little legs project out past the end of it and are practically smooshed against the car seat. And, we can hardly cart the carrier around because her 21 pounds plus the carrier = hernia.

I swear, every time I go into that store its like I've stepped into some weird bizarro land. It's just so surreal. An acre or so of just kid crap makes your head swim. This time was even more surreal. Seeing all these pregnant girls there, setting up their registry with their husbands/significant others - it brought back so many memories. I remember it being such a blur. What do I need? Should I get this type of bottle or that brand? Which exersaucer, changing pad covers, sheets, diaper pail was the best? I remember feeling so completely out of my element. So completely unsure of what I was doing.

Seeing those girls, with their swollen bellies, so full of anticipation, so unaware of what was to come. I wanted to rush up to them and tell them, "it'll be okay! You'll be fine! Your baby will be fine! You'll make it! It doesn't matter which bottle or how many onesies you have! You'll be a great mom, and your baby will love you, and you'll step through this door into a new and wonderful, yet completely different and challenging part of life.

I also wanted to tell them to try to enjoy each and every minute. Because the sleepless nights and the tiny onesies will pass, and soon your tiny little sweetheart will be too big for her carseat, and so big you'll need biceps the size of texas to cart her around.

Birthing Class Reunites

2009-10-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

I have no concept of time, whatsoever. Something happened during the birthing/infant process and I can no longer discern the passing of time...especially at night, when I get those precious few hours of sleep. I'm SURE that it has only been five minutes since my head hit the pillow and when precious baby decides its time to wake snoring mommy up for a little midnight snack.

And now, I can't believe its been a month since my last post. Goodness. My next one will be when she starts kindergarten. Or starts her period. Or starts her own family. Because *BLINK* and the day is over and a new one has begun.

Last night was our birthing class reunion. It was really fun to see real-time genetic experiments. You get to know these couples over a seven week cycle, then you get to see what kind of baby they produce (some of them more successful than others, he he). You also get to see what the gals look like without an extra 20-30 pounds, without stretchy pants, and without the perpetual waddle. We shared our birth stories (mine was the worst, I'm sure), bitch about the hospital, and whine about our postpartum issues. I think when it was over, everyone was a little reluctant to leave. There was this sort of team camaraderie, that we were all in for *something* but no one knew what. And then we're pushed out of the nest to discover for ourselves what this whole parenting thing is all about.

an update

2009-09-18T12:30:00.000-07:00

It's been two weeks, albeit part time, back at work. I'm exhausted. It's been really tough transitioning from home life to work. Trying to get myself ready, LadyBug ready, the house at least approachable for whomever will be watching the babe...it's tough! And that's just the morning. Because BigB is up at 4:30 and out the door before I even get up, its all up to me. By the time I get to work, I'm already frazzled.

Trying to pump three times a day just adds to the stress. Squeezing (no pun intended) time in to sequester myself in the lactation room (really just a cinderblock, windowless, storage closet that smells like mildew), is impossible.

Then, when I finally get home, LadyBug is cranky from not getting any good naps, and there are no smiles left for me. I'm emotionally and physically spent. I wish I had something witty and funny to say, but its a drag. I know its just going to get worse when I got back full time.

End pity party.

We're going to the M's game tonight - we're takin' on the Yankees (boooo!). Looking forward to some great brawts & beers. Tomorrow is the Boat Afloat show (drooling over yachts), and painting the laundry room.

A day in the life...

First Day Back

2009-08-30T14:38:00.000-07:00

Here's a little recap of my first attempt at reentering the workplace by trying to get out of the house by 12:30 so I can be to work by 1:00 (only working a half-day) - and yes, it does take 30 minutes to go 8 miles.

11:30 Shirt #1 is ruined by me dropping egg all over it. Wanted to have a high-protein breakfast/lunch so I wouldn't have a carb crash. Change shirt.
11:50 Shirt #2 is ruined by LadyBug barfing all over it. No salvaging it. Change shirt yet again.
11:55 Notice shirt #3 has coffee stains on it from the last time I wore it to work Pre-baby). Change shirt again.
12:15 BigB gets home from his half day to relieve me.
12:40 Going to be late for first day back because I have exhausted my work shirts that aren't maternity...trying to decide which one makes me look the least like I have done nothing for the past 10 weeks but eat bon bons takes way too much time.
1:00 Cry at sad country music song about singers little baby girl. Makeup runs AGAIN.
1:10 Arrive at work. Find balloons, dozen roses, card, and an iced mocha. Very sweet of my team.
1:11 Flood of Tears
1:30 Notice iced mocha has leaked all over my brand new WHITE pants. Niiiiiice. Especially when everyone and their mother is stopping by my office to welcome me back. I stay seated as I chat it up with them. I'm sure it seemed very rude.
1:45 Decide I can't make it through the afternoon with brown splatter stains all over the crotch of my white pants. Go to the breakroom and spray them with 409 and rub (my crotch) with a wet towel. Awkward.
1:48 Realize now everyone can see my underpants because of the water.
1:50 Go back to office and partially shut door, hoping people will stay away until my pants dry.
2:00 Have meeting with boss to review projects worked on (dropped the ball on) while I was away.
2:15 Have sensation that boobs are leaking through bra and realize that I forgot to put pads in.
2:20-2:30 Try to discreetly determine if boobs are in fact leaking and making quarter sized circles on my already less than flattering top.
2:31 Determine no leakage.
3:00 Stuff bra full of toilet paper because I'm sure the boobs will in fact leak as the admin who has the key to the lactation room is out for the day so I can't pump.
3:05 Look in the mirror and try to adjust toilet paper so they aren't lumpy and lopsided and totally obviously stuffed with t.p.
3:15 My admin stops me on the way back to my office and drills me about "what's it like to be a mom?"
3:18 Try not to cry as I try to explain how what's it like to leave your child at home and discreetly hide behind her massive desk so I don't expose my underwear see-through pants
3:30 Show video of little LadyBug for 400th time to officeworkers and hear teammates gag
3:45 Go through mile-high stack of mail and wonder what the heck I'm doing at work with my little Lady Bug at home.
4:59 Run out of office without a glance back and head home to my sweet chubby cheeks.
5:12 Cry at sad country music song. At least there's no makeup left to run anywhere.
5:35 Arrive home and grab my bundle of joy and hug her hard.

Back to Work, Queue Tears

2009-08-28T10:45:00.000-07:00

Today I go back to work. It's the day I've dreaded literally since the day I found out I was pregnant. That nagging feeling in the back of my head has come full frontal and I am none too happy about it. I've had crying jags nonstop all week. I just can't help but be sad. It seems like BigB doesn't understand. I think he thinks I'm just feeling sorry for myself - and maybe I am.

Even a day of retail therapy didn't help. I had to buy a few new things since my pre-baby clothes aren't quite fitting. Every time I picked something up, it made me think about why I had to buy them: to go back to work = not being with my baby.

I'm going back part time, just two days per week and one day from home. For the first month, anyhow. I thought that would be easier than going full time cold turkey. My mom and my niece will be watching her, so she wont be with strangers, but I want her to be with ME.

I really wish we were financially able for me to stay home with her. But, $35K in fertility treatments aren't going to just magically disappear. Neither will the mortgage or the car payment. Oh how the green monster (jealousy) has been knocking on my door. I am SO jealous of my SAHM friends. Even though I don't think I'm cut out to be one, I would still like the option to choose. Or at least stay home another month or two till I'm good and ready to go back.

I leave in another hour. I'm waiting to put my makeup on till the last minute - I know its just gonna get smeared all over from the tears.

Don't take your weight issues out on my baby!

2009-08-21T13:50:00.000-07:00

There are six girls in my close circle of friends. Five of us had girls in the past year - isn't that crazy? For four of us, its our first baby. It's fun being the last as I have LOADS of hand-me-downs, we really haven't had to buy anything at all. It also kinda sucks being the last because LadyBug gets compared to all the other babies and their milestones.

She kicked their azzzes on her 2 month checkup. She's in the 97 percentile: 14 pounds, 2 ounces for her weight. She's 75% for height and 90% for her head. She's a BIG girl which is supposed to be good for brain development. She'll be very, very smart if its based on the size of her thighs and her wrist rolls! The doctors aren't worried, but my girlfriends seem to be. Most of their babies only weigh a few pounds more, and they are 4-10 months older. It's really hard not to compare and freak out a little, but I know she's just fine. BigB and I are both tall, and he was a big baby who thinned out as soon as he started crawling and walking. It's a teency annoying, though, when even strangers comment and say, "I just love a big baby!"

We went to a birthday party this week for one of our friends whose baby just turned one. I made her a special birthday cake and decorated it for the occasion. Here's a pic of it before, during, and after.

Is this your first?

2009-08-17T10:50:00.001-07:00

One thing that has struck me as a little odd, is that practically every stranger that encounters me and LadyBug and takes the time to oooh and ahhh over her, asks "is this your first?"

How do they know? Do I have "rookie" emblazoned on my forehead and I just can't see it? Is it the carrier that still smells like plastic and hasn't seen the wear and tear of previous siblings? Is it my deer-in-headlights smile? Is it the puke that has found its way once again down my cleavage? (I SWEAR that she thinks its a garbage chute - because there's an awful lot of places she could spit up, but she almost always chooses the breast slot).

I surely don't look young enough to be a first time mom - and this point I'm old enough to have 18, just like whats-her-name on tv. But it IS my first and it makes me think these people are clairvoyant. Maybe its just because there isn't a toddler hanging onto my sleeve or the stroller is for one, and not two? Do second-time moms get this, too?

Milk Lady is in the House!

2009-08-14T08:38:00.000-07:00

I've been taking Reg.lan the past week in hopes of increasing my milk production - just can't quite make enough for LadyBug to get her fill. The meds seem to be doing the trick - as long as I drink a LOT of water. It also seems to be doing the trick of creating a truckload of gas, for both me and the babe. It's not uncomfortable or painful gas, but it sure does have some, um, velocity! Poor Kate just rips 'em all day. In fact, as we speak, she's grunting a few big ones.

There are some side affects from Reg.lan, including tremors and depression, luckily I haven't experienced either of them. You're on it for just two weeks with the expectation that once you're off it, your milk supply will drop a little, but it will be higher than where it was before you started taking it. With me returning to work just two weeks (insert pouty lip and tears here), I'm even hopeful of getting a small supply of frozen milk treats for the sweet little thing.

Yesterday I was feeding her and she came off my boob for a second and I looked down and there was what I thought was a big string of drool from my boob to my pant leg. But it was a stream of milk! It was totally crazy. Maybe this is what normal gals experience, but I have never seen such a copious amount! I was so in awe. The milk stand is in business!

So many theories, so little time.

2009-08-10T11:01:00.001-07:00

There are WAY too many books on childrearing available. Not to mention the almighty internet. What's a girl to do? Honestly - one book says feed your baby every two hours, another says feed her when she's hungry. One article says put your baby to bed at 7pm and let her wail until she falls asleep, another says let her make her own sleep schedule. Pacifier or no pacifier?

I just don't want to Create A Monster. Ya know? Things are fine now, but what about in a month or two? What we're doing now could totally have a bad, really bad, rebound affect. It's mind boggling to think that my decision to Let Her Cry or Let Her Sleep could affect how well she learns or sleeps when she's a high schooler. However, I think we've taken the best approach - just cross our fingers and hope for the best. That's responsible parenting, isn't it?

Here's something that one book frowns upon and another grins:

LadyBug loves to fall asleep in her swing. Especially outside in the shade with the warm breeze while her parents work diligently pulling weeds and drink cool refreshing beer.

But one thing we do know, a good nap for her produces these kinds of smiles:

Let there be smiles and rolls in the hay

2009-08-04T10:34:00.000-07:00

Went to see FancyOB yesterday - she gave me the green flag for exercise and sex. Not that they have to be mutually exclusive, I suppose. That exam HURT like hell! FancyOB said that hormones (its always the hormones, isn't it?) are causing the lining of the vagina to be really thin and thus ultra sensitive. Sex will probably be uncomfortable at best until I stop breastfeeding. I've been holding BigB back, using the C-section green flag as an excuse - really I just have no energy or desire to whooop it up in the sack. I thought perhaps the mojo would return in those magic six weeks after birth, but it continues to evade. Now I'm scared. More pain! I'm going to have to just go for it and hope for the best. BigB has been a very patient man but I can't string him along like a 16 year-old virgin forever.

LadyBug is now smiling - dang I'm glad. When she busts out that ear-to-ear grin, it makes all the puke on my clothes/furniture/hair and that ever-present curdled milk smell worth it. She's also found her fist and loves to suck on it. Super cute. At what point does your fist outgrow your mouth? I've seen a few adults who can cram their hand inside their yapper, but it doesn't look comfortable or natural. LadyBug just slurps away, happy as can be.

She's grown out of her newborn clothes and onesies. And has even grown out of most of her 0-3 month stuff. She seems to be pretty big for a six week old, but what do I know? I have nothing to compare her to. Her cheeks are getting nice and puffy, and the rolls on her thighs are cavernous. FancyOB says a pudgy baby is best - all that extra fat (that we as adults abhor) really help her brain development - she's going to be one smart little girl!

Still having a hard time believing that she's not going anywhere. That she's here to stay for at least another 18 years. When does it start to feel permanent and not just a temporary thing?

Dijon diapers and the Insatiable Appetite

2009-07-23T16:49:00.001-07:00

Wow. Has it really been more than two weeks since I last posted? I don't have a good reason. Lots of inadequate reasons, but nothing good. Let's just say that my life has revolved around changing diapers filled with something akin to Dijon mustard, feeding a baby that seems to have an appetite that challenges Paula Dean's, and seeing just how little can be done during those 30 minute cat naps Lady Bug loves so much.

But here I am. I swore I would write something, anything, and then just hit "post" as aforementioned wee one wakes up.

She is starting to smile. That means SO much. It's hard to change diapers, feed on command, get little sleep, rock back and forth a kajillion times with no response other than that of not screaming. The first month was hard! But, now in her fifth week (has it really been that long already?), she is starting to respond. She makes the occasional coo instead of just crying, and seems to respond to my silly sing song voice.

I've started to get out of the house by myself which is totally scary. You just never know when she's going to have a total meltdown. It's the worst when you're driving and there's no where to pull over and you just have to listen to her wail away. It breaks your heart AND drives you cuckoo at the same time.

She/we are starting to see some type of routine/schedule develop. Thank goodness she goes into perpetual melt down mode when BigB gets home from work and then seems to calm down around 10:30, just in time for us to go to bed. I get about four hours of sleep, nurse her a bit, then BigB gets up with her a few hours later, and I get another four hours of sleep, so not too bad.

This is the mundane post. There will lots of better ones. I promise. There's just too many hilarious and mind-bending things going on right now NOT to post them!

2009-07-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

My milk supply is seriously inadequate (more on that to come). So, I'm pumping to try and increase the flow. Pumping sucks. I'm just gonna lay it out there. In researching "how to increase milk," I come across this picture:

There is nothing fun or pleasant about pumping (except maybe the 15 minutes I get alone). I don't know how much they paid this woman to look all happy and comfortable with her hands-free pumping bra, but its a bunch of crap.

You cannot sit cross-legged on the floor and pump. You have to be in some kind of a sturdy chair and you basically can't move because you've got tubing that tethers you to 12 inches of a pleather bag encasing your pump. Not sexy or fun.

The bra itself looks like some sort of Madonna-lingerie gone bad. Instead of sexy pointy boobs, you've got projectile bottles full of a sticky substance that seems to find its way onto every surface within three feet of you. But hey, at least you can talk on the phone and write in your day planner. Let's make a date! I can pump! Let's close that million dollar deal - I can pump!

I'd like to hear the conversation with this woman's agent:

"Hey! Becky! Guess what? I've got a sweet gig for you! My client is looking for a gorgeous thirty-something business type woman for a discreet lingerie photo shoot. Nothing showing but the bra - very modest. You'll love it."

Then, when she shows up, they toss her the ensemble that will cast her into b-rated horror flicks for the rest of her life: the hands-free pump bra.

Oh, and by the way, there's no way in hell that woman has had a baby recently. Look at her six pack abs. My abs are somewhere around my knees and show little to no promise of ever returning.

I made my own hands-free wonder. Took an old sports bra and cut two holes in it. It's totally sexy. See for yourself:

Warning Graphic Pictures

2009-06-28T14:54:00.000-07:00

Just thought I'd share something fun: Kate's first poop.

I don't think I'll ever make brownies again cuz this stuff looks just like brownie batter. Thank GOD it doesn't stink. Although her farts sure do. That's because she takes after her father.

the birth story

2009-06-27T15:57:00.000-07:00

So here's the backstory:

A week ago Tuesday, I went in for my 40 week check up with Dr. FancyOB. She said I was still sealed up tighter than Fort Knox and if she had to make a bet she'd guess they'd induce me on the 29th. So, I was all geared up for another 10 days of waiting. Maybe a good time to start yet another house improvement project, right?

On Thursday at work, I was having a lot of back pain. Chalked it up to the all the time I spent the night before sweeping and moping floors from the construction mess. That night, my back was still hurting. It kept me awake. So I thought I'd take a hot shower to help calm it down- but it didn't phase it. It's one in the morning, and I'm folding onesies. I feel a gush "down there" and it seemed like a lot of non-pee fluid in the crotchal area and it was tinged pink. It was such a surreal moment. Thinking, "this is probably it. This is the beginning of the end that will bring my little daughter into my arms. Oh, and it's gonna hurt like a mutha.

I got BigB out of his comatose sleep, and gently warned him that I thought my water had broke and thought I was having contractions. We called the doc and she told us to go to the hospital and they'd check everything out. Here's a play by play from there:

4:30 a.m. Arrive at Hospital

5:00 a.m. Get settled into room and get hooked up on monitors. Definitely having contractions about 3-4 minutes apart and feeling them big time.

6:00 Test says my water didn't break, I wasn't dilated, but the contractions were the real deal. Let's wait and see what happens.

7:00 Staying in hospital. Dilated to 1. Contractions getting worse and almost all of in my back (back labor). Thought there was supposed to be some easing into the painful ones.

9:00 Still not much progress. Contractions unbearable. Doesn't matter which little tricky position or mind games we tried (ball, on all fours, ice, jacuzzi tub, the dance - every thing) nothing would ease or lessen the pain.

10:00 I am ready to die. I ask please for the Lord to help me every 1 minute. I tell BigB that I am done now and I would like to go home please.

11:00 They give me morphine. Nothing happens. I am pissed.

12:00 They give me some other drug. It makes me sleepy. I sleep for one to two minutes until the next contraction begins. This sucks big time because I would relax and then it was like someone sticking an electrical current in my back.

1:00 pm Doctor determines that I am the whiniest gal in the ward. She concedes to an epidural even though I am only dilated to about 3. The nurse who has been with me all day is about to have a nervous breakdown of her own.

1:30 pm Holy crap I am in heaven. Worried about the epidural shot? Forget it. It is nothing. I have decided if this is what having a baby feels like, I'm having one every frekin' day. Nothin' wrong with this.

2:30 What's on tv?

3:00 Think I'll take a nap.

3:30 Nurse checks me for dilation. Ummm.....still a 3. let's jack up the pitocin!

4:00 Watch rerun of some ridiculous movie

6:00 Eat 500th cup of ice chips. Can't have anything but water till baby is born. Su-ucks. Niece brings BigB a hamburger and I make him eat it in the lobby.

6:30 Nurse checks my innards again. I'm mayyyyybe a 3.5

7:00 Listen to neighbor screaming in pain (get the epi, get the epi!)

7:30 Doc inserts some kind of saline solution line back into my business. Apparently little Lady Bug is showing signs of distress via her heart rate, so pumping more liquid to her sac helps her feel a bit more comfortable.

8:00 All family members are present. Just waiting for the action part of the evening to begin.

9:00 Doctor checks progress. 3.8. She calls it a 4 just to make me feel better because this is getting o-o-o-l-d.

9:30 Doctor explains situation. LadyBug is sunnyside up (facing the wrong direction), is HUGE, and will probably never make it through the infamous canal without a lotta heartbreak and medical intervention. Recommends the "c."

9:31 I agree. Let's get this show on the road.

10:00 BigB is geared up in some sweet white scrubbies. I am wheeled down the hall to surgery room #1.

10:15 After getting my epidural all maxed out, they begin cutting into my abs. It is awesome. Not really. the whole thing was pretty disgusting to think about. I'd rather not recall those sawing motions or the way they grabbed my junk and tossed it like a Caesar salad andwhatnot.

10:53 I hear crying of a little baby.

10:54 I see said crying little baby. Brian shows me her. Although I am sideways, I can tell she's healthy.

11:15 I am wheeled back to my room where my darling husband has our little sweetheart.

11:25 I try to nurse little LadyBug. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but she sure does. Loves the food just like her mom.

11:45 Parade of family members ensue. Secretly wishing they would all go home and go to bed.

Day 2-4 Lots of visitors and relatively little sleeping.

So, nothing real exciting. Just kind of your normal 18 hours of labor with nothing to show except a big c-shaped scar above my pubes. Oh, and that perfect little girl that is my daughter.

Let me introduce you

2009-06-24T23:37:00.000-07:00

As I sit and type this, I have an almost 9 pound bundle wrapped in a fuzzy yellow blanket sitting on my lap. I can hardly believe it and the tears well in my eyes as I think of the shear amazingness (is that a word?) of it all.

Kate Geneva was born last Friday night after 18 hours of labor (more on that to come). She is healthy. She is beautiful. And she's mine.

I can hardly believe it. There are times when I am overwhelmed with the magnitude of it all. What a journey this has been and I know there is so much road left to travel.

I'll let a few pictures tell a million words that I cant:

Go ahead, take your time

2009-06-11T22:34:00.000-07:00

Nothing going on. Nada. Zilch. Just continuing to wait and go CRAZY.

Oh wait, I already am crazy. Crazy for agreeing to this stupid remodel days before I'm due to give birth. There's that whole "nesting" thing that is in complete competition with the dust, dirt, sawdust, mayhem that has taken over my house.

I can't help but freak out. I'm supposed to be creating a serene, clean, inviting environment for this new little life and I can't even do a load of laundry because the W&D has been disconnected.

On top of everything else, BigB is completely overwhelmed at work so he's working long hours and bringing work home. So he can't help cook or clean - so I'm left to doing those things all by myself. I wish I could just ignore it, but I can't! I'm totally overwhelmed. And, I can't relax when it looks like a bomb has gone off in our house.

So, I guess I'm thankful LadyBug hasn't made her grand entrance yet. I need the weekend to get things figured out, cleaned up, and a little more peaceful.

Stop, Drop and Turn!

2009-06-04T15:54:00.000-07:00

Awwww, loooook. Wouldn't ya know it. She already loves her daddy more than me (I knew this would happen). Of course she complied with BigB's demands and turned head down and even dropped. I have a feeling that this will be a common theme for the next 18 years. Ignore mommy and get daddy wrapped around her little finger by doing whatever he says.

So, no c-section for now. Just wait, wait, and then wait some more. Um, patience is NOT one of my virtues.

Not only did FancyOB tell me that LadyBug was turned and headed south for the border, but that I had gained NINE pounds in water weight. Isn't that crazy? How does that happen? I know my fingers are swollen and it hurts to hold a pen, and that my face resembles Veronica Salt, but nine pounds? It's also been hotter than Satan's armpit in Seattle this week (to us Seattleites 85-90 degrees is HOT), so maybe that has something to do with it.

T minus 15 days

2009-06-02T11:54:00.000-07:00

Didja look at that countdown? Only 15 days left! It's really hard to comprehend. A different two week wait altogether. My feeble mind is unable to make the cognitive connection that the thing inside my belly will be OUT in a few weeks (maybe less) and that it will be a bayyyyybeeeeeeee that I can hold. And rock. And sing to. It's a super strange concept. But, I'm ready. WAY ready:

Bloated fingers? Check.
Bloated ankles? Check.
Hormones en fuego? Check.
Nursery ready? Heck no.
Bag packed? Ummmm, no.
Birth plan complete. Whatsa birth plan?

I'm ready mentally. Maybe not so much otherwise.

Get this - "we" decided last minute (i.e. Sunday) to have a contractor come in and redo the stairs that go to our basement/family room/laundry room. BigB is renting a jackhammer and smashing up the cement ones that are there now. For whatever reason, the steps were originally built for people with Lilliputian type feet. They are so narrow that every time I go down them (at least 10 times a day), I fear for my life. AND there's no handrail. AND the walls are ensconced in beautiful stained-pine panelling which make me feel like I live in an old nasty cabin.

Not sure why we waited until the last minute to get this done, but it seemed like a good idea to have a safe set of stairs considering we'll probably be traipsing up and down them with a BABY in a few weeks. It just took us awhile to figure that out.

I'll also get new flooring in the laundry room (hardwoods). Yay! And new light fixtures. Yay! But, a little stressful on the timing.

This afternoon we have another appointment with the OB. We'll see if LadyBug has decided to comply with all of BigB's pleadings (he's been sticking his face way down by "my business" and talking with her, as he was told this would "call" her toward his voice and make her go head down. Kind of cute, kind of weird). Can't wait to find out!

Some things dont TURN out like you planned

2009-05-27T14:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had an exam with my OB. I was so excited! I was JUST SURE that there was some dilation going on. After all, I practically sent BigB into hysterics at Costc.Ho on Friday night. I told him, "not to freak you out, but this could be It." I was feeling all sorts of contractions and they didn't feel good.

So, when my little fancy-dressed OB (she's WAY too cute to be a Dr.) had me hop up on the exam table, I couldn't wait for her to tell me I was on my way to seeing my sweet little Lady Bug.

Um. NO. Denied.

Not only am I sealed up as tight as a the vacuum seal on a jar of pickles, but Little Lady is probably breech. Waaaa? I did NOT sign up for the breech deal. Fancy OB isn't 100% sure (they couldn't get me in for an ultrasound), but there's definitely a chance that the big bump I can constantly feel isn't her sweet little bottom but her genetically huge head (inherited from BigB).

Fancy OB told if LB IS in fact breech, I could do "version" (a.k.a. physical manipulation which feels like your belly is being wrenched and supposedly hurts like hell according to my very strong/pain tolerant sister) or a c-section.

We're going to wait and see next week if she really is breech.

Other than that, I somehow lost five pounds. Which is weird. I think the scale was just whacked. But, I've felt since then a sort of license to eat. I mean, five pounds! Bring on those frozen girls.cout cookies. Bring on those Klond.ike bars. I've got five freebie pounds!

Babymoon and ICLW

2009-05-26T13:20:00.001-07:00

Here we are, almost done with ICLW and I'm just now posting. L-A-M-E. I know it. I had this great plan to write about our anniversary trip/babymoon, and I could not, for the life of me, download the pics. Just couldn't carve out 5 minutes to do it.

So, here it is, albeit late.

We went to Victoria, B.C. for our anniversary/babymoon. We took the Clipper, which is basically a huge, high speed catamaran thingy that gets there in two hours. It was beautiful, and thankfully, pretty smooth. The little girl sitting across from me hurled (repeatedly), but luckily, my cookies stayed down.

Victoria is really beautiful, but it is a walking town. Going on vacation with no car when you're three weeks from delivering might not have been the best move. The sun was out, it was warm, and my feet ballooned up like little sausages. I had to buy my first pair of "mom shoes." But, I was more than willing to abandon all concept of fashion to find something that wouldn't feel like a vice grip squeezing my feet.

We didn't do much while we were there (walking = exhaustion), but we did visit the Butch.art Gardens. SO amazing. We took a little picnic and ate it on the lawn. Later, we went swimming at the hotel. Why haven't I done that before? It felt so wonderful to have all that pressure released. Maybe now I'll actually go to my gym - I can't believe I have a pool membership and haven't used it.

One observation is that Canadians aren't as gregarious when it comes to pregnancies. No one really commented on my huge belly. Lots of looks, like, "holy crap, that girl is gonna pop any second, get me outta here." But, not the endless questions of "how much longer?" Or, "your first?" Or, "is it a boy/girl?" Which of course are always followed by their harrowing birth stories.

My advice for fellow gals thinking about babymoons? Do it earlier when you can still walk around. Go somewhere where you don't have to do anything except lay around and drink fruity cold drinks. But, we were glad we did it and will have lots of fun memories. Happy ICLW!!

Plight for Day Care

2009-05-13T14:04:00.000-07:00

Today I went and toured the day care center across the street from where I work. They don't take infants, but they do take one year-olds once they can walk. So, I had to take a tour and put down a DEPOSIT to be put on the waiting list for a possible start date of December 2010!! December! 2010!! Isn't that insane?

On the application they asked for the date of birth of the child: TBD?? Approximately? They also asked for a name. Does Baby Girl count? How 'bout Lady Bug? There was another woman there expecting twins. I soooo wanted to make sure my app got in the pipeline before hers. She's taking TWO spots! It would be so great to have the little button across the street, though. Not that I'd go and visit her, because i guess that really screws up their schedule, but just knowing she was yards away would be nice.

The pressure is crazy. Now we're thinking about preschool and grade school. Do we need to get on a waiting list for those, too? I thought that only happened in Manhattan and L.A.

The gal who gave the tour totally hinted that "sucking up" really helps you advance on the list. She basically told us to come volunteer at their events and send them notes and emails reminding them of "our special one." It goes against every grain of my being, but I have a feeling I'll be dropping by with baskets of brownies or muffins soon.

Learning the Stages

2009-05-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

Last night was our second installment in our birthing class. So far, it's been a little uneventful, other than the video which showed actual vajj's with actual babies coming out. I kept peeking at BigB, wondering if he was a) going to pass out, or b). was a little too interested in someone else's crotch.

The whole night was spent on the various stages of labor. Here's what we learned:
Early Labor:
Women are pretty much excited and euphoric and perhaps a little confused if they're actually in labor. Women want to clean house and may get a backache. Duh. It could last for days maybe weeks. Waaaaa?

Active Labor:
This apparently is the "this is really starting to hurt and as a result, I could hurt you so step away, please" phase which you probably would yell at your SO if you could squeak a word out. 8 hours or so of this fun time. You may want to get a massage or sit in jacuzzi - which really sounds more like a spa appointment and who is kidding its no spa appointment.

Transition:
This is the"if you get anywhere near me, I'm going to rip your freaking head off. Don't touch me, don't count for me, just get the hell away" portion of delivery. There is often grunting, and shivering, and vomiting. Even a little pooping. Because, hey, you've got a 7 pound watermelon passing through your pelvis.

Pushing:
More of above, but you get to push.that.thang.out for up to a couple of hours. Get ready for SO to turn green. Ripping can ensue.

Placenta Delivery:
Mmmmmm. Yummy. I had never seen one until this video. Suuuu-ick. Don't worry...I don't want that thing inside me any longer than it has to. Brrrrp.

After all that, my question is, when do I get the meds? Because, then all of that is moot, right? I'm all for natural if you can swing it. This girl can not. Unnatural sounds good. Right after that euphoria/house cleaning bit, please.

Prom Queen

2009-05-04T09:27:00.000-07:00

I was tagged by Amy over at A Different Kind of Southern Girl to show off my prom pic. Please do not judge me by the height of my hair. During the late 80's (1988 to be exact), the higher the bangs, the hotter you were. I was apparently very , very hot.

Here are the rules for the game:

1. Upload your prom picture.

2. Don't forget to include the year it was taken. Again, don't be shy. The older the better.

3. Grab the "Prom Queen" button on my sidebar and add to your post.

4. Copy and Paste the rules to your blog

5. Tag 5 others!

Here's my tags:

Martha - A sense of humor is essential

Jen - Despite the Best Laid Plans

Embryo Motel

2 infertiles Journey to 2 pink lines

...might just be enough

Think before speaking! Please!!

2009-04-28T13:51:00.000-07:00

This weekend was was of those weekends where you have nothing planned, but it ends up being busy anyhow. Our "to do list" before LadyBug arrives is starting to dwindle - thankfully! We knocked a few items off the list over the past few days - but our house is still a complete disaster but I have no energy to do anything about it.

On one of our chore outings, we went to the dry cleaners. The owner took a look at my protruding massiveness and said, "when's baby due?" I told her seven more weeks. She gave me this crazy look and said, "only one?" Yes....only one. Stupid lady.

Then Sunday, while looking at strollers at the dreaded BabiesR.s, this older man looked at me, looked at the stroller, and said, "ya know, that one only holds one." I let out this crazy laugh.

So much fun.

Had my shower at work yesterday. About 4 hours beforehand, I started getting really dizzy and nauseous. I had to lay down in one of the conference room and take a nap with the lights off. I was determined to get through the shower. It was fun, but I jammed through it in like 45 minutes. More onesies!

Now I'm at home. Sick again. Sore throat, congestion, earache. So much fun. Poor BigB. I was such a whiny little ninny last night. I was miserable. Still miserable. Coughing like crazy - i wonder what the baby thinks of it. It must be pretty loud in there.

I'm watching back to back episodes of "A Baby Story." Thankfully all of them have been positive and made the whole birthing event seem easy. We start our birthing classes tomorrow night. I'm sure we'll hear lots of stories. But...just seven more weeks!

Friends Award and 32 Week US

2009-04-23T10:32:00.000-07:00

I'm a little slow on getting this up, but appreciative nonetheless!!

I received the Friends Award from Martha and Are You Kidding Me. I feel so loved!

Here's my eight friends I'd like to forward to (sorry if there's repeats!). Just send the award to 8 of your friends!

And Anyone Else who Happens to Read this blog!

On a slightly different note, we had our 32 week OB appt and ultrasound. Got to see Lady Bug in 4D! It was awesome. Although, the umbilical cord was in front of her face which made her look like she had huge Angel.ie Jol.ie lips. I'm talking HUGE! She definitely didn't get those from me. Lipliner has been my friend for a very long time.

She is a big girl. They estimate she's at 4 lbs 7 oz. Already! And we've got eight (gulp!) weeks to go. So...they're thinking somewhere in the 8.5 pound range. Whew. That's big. But then again, we're not slight people. BigB is 6'2" and quite broad (with a head the size of Texas, to boot). I'm 5'8" and "sturdy" as I like to describe myself.

While the tech had the probe thingy on my belly, Lady Bug gave it a huge kick. The tech's hand literally bounced into the air. She said she didn't think she'd ever had a baby kick that hard before. Yeah! We've got a feisty one on our hands!

Then the Doc came in and said she was "very healthy" and that I should focus on eating protein and drinking water. Hmmmmm. Does that mean he knows my obsession with all things baked and bread related? I suppose he's right. Delivering a watermelon doesn't sound like fun. Although, I read somewhere that having a big baby is good because they practically crawl out.

Our bi-polar weather has swung to sunshine this afternoon. Yay! It was grey and rainy this morning and yesterday, 70 on Tuesday. Just plain crazy. But, like I always say, if you don't like the weather in Seattle, just wait an hour and it'll change.

2009-04-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday was a bittersweet day. BigB's grandmother passed away about a week ago, and we went to the memorial service in the morning. Just a few hours later was my first shower, with both sides of our family in attendance.

BigB's grandma had just turned 90, and had lived by herself in her house up until four or five months ago. She was such a sweet, caring person. Her life revolved around her four boys and her OVER 500 foster kids. In her 40's, she became a licensed short-term foster care provider - the place they took kids when they were first admitted to the system, before they found more permanent living situations. Can you imagine? Having so many children pass through your doors - sometimes for a night or two, sometimes for months. And she was a single mom. Doing this all by herself. Needless to say, the service was emotional. She had wanted to "go home and be with Jesus" for at least the past few years, so everyone was glad that she was where she wanted to be and that she had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

Later that afternoon my friends and family had my first baby shower. It had been planned weeks before Grandma passed away, so it would have been difficult to change the date. Plus, having all the family up for the memorial allowed them the opportunity to attend the shower - otherwise they probably wouldn't have made the trip.

The shower was good. Nothing too crazy. But, let me tell you, this kid has more onesies than should be allowed. You've heard the phrase "you can never have too many onesies" - I challenge that statement. At last count between new and hand-me-downs, she Lady Bug has over 100 onesies (size nb-9 mos). It's really insane and slightly nauseating. Between those, baby blankets, and little dresses, she is set.

A sample of onesies:

My belly...looking HUGE:

The cake:

A Little Room of my Own

2009-04-16T08:37:00.000-07:00

Last night we took a tour of the hospital where we'll be delivering. It's a smaller hospital, only 18 maternity rooms, but seemed to have a much better reputation as far as being "friendly." The other option would be downtown Seattle, where they deliver a million babies a day - which seemed like we would be just another number without a lot of personal attention. Plus this smaller hospital is only two miles from our house - even in thick traffic we could be there in 15 minutes. Trying to get downtown, although only eight miles, in traffic could take an hour. Having a baby in the parking lot or on the side of the freeway doesn't sound like fun to me.

The maternity wing of the hospital looks, from the outside, like an abandoned grade school. It's actually quite alarming. Do I really want to deliver a baby at a place with peeling paint and a big dilapidated totem pole standing guard out front? Luckily, they've completely remodeled the inside. Total night and day difference or else I would have turned heel and ran like the wind.

There was one other gal there for the tour. I immediately hated her. She was around 25 and at least 6' tall. Maybe 6'1 or 6'2. Blond Nordic goddess. By looking at her belly, I guessed she was about 6 months. Oh no. She's due a week before me. Whatev. She looked better in her jeans at 8 months than I do without packin' a baby. I tried to ignore her and make sure I walked in front so I didn't have to stare at her perky little bottom and long non-swollen legs and compare her confident stride to my pathetic waddle.

I was pretty surprised to see how small the rooms are - especially for giving birth and recovery. You do all that in here??!! I also got claustrophobic thinking of all my brothers, sisters, in-laws crowding in the little room to get a peek of the "freshie" (as my sister likes to call newborns). "Crowd control," I whispered to BigB, practically reeling from the idea of all my peeps staring at me after hours of labor. My skinny-yellow-haired tour buddy was busy figuring out how she'd be able to Sky.pe her big moment, I was busy figuring out how I could keep from hyperventilating.

Apparently there is one huge "suite" that is filled on a first-come-first-serve basis. I want that room. With it's huge windows and big jacuzzi tub. I told BigB that he was gonna have to sit outside the room for the entire two weeks before my due date so we could nab it.

This hospital doesn't have a nursery, and requires that if you take the baby out of your room, it has to stay in a rolling bassinet. "So what do you do if you want the baby to go somewhere else because it is screaming and you're exhausted and ready to have a nervous breakdown?" I ask innocently. The tour-leading nurse looked at me like I should be admitted right then and there. "Too bad, " she shrugged. "You'll be fine," she insisted. I guess a lot of hospitals have done away with the stereotypical "nursery" with the big windows where you can see all the babies. Now you hardly know there's anything going on because everyone, including the baby, is crammed into individual rooms.

Of course, drill Sargent-tour leading nurse described all the horrible things that could go wrong during a delivery but how they were "uniquely prepared to handle it." That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I did brighten up with the snack room. All kinds of little treats for the mom and dad-to-be (no extended family, please!). Although I noticed a eminent lack of chocolate (we'll be bringing our own special snacks). We were also promised a "celebratory dinner" before leaving. Complete with steak! and chocolate-covered strawberries! and non-alcoholic sparkling cider!

It was a bit overwhelming. I'm glad we did it, but overwhelming nonetheless. To think The-Big-Day is 9 weeks away. Just crazy.

Bigger Doesn't Mean Better

2009-04-15T13:49:00.000-07:00

Well, we did it. We traded my sporty little fast European car for a big ol' SUV made in the good ol' US of A. Used of course. But BIG nonetheless. And I'm talking HUGE. The kind of car (truck? rig?) that makes you wonder if you're actually spilling out of your lane into other lanes.

This comes as a bit of a surprise for us. We're definitely green-ish. Just last summer we were hell-bent on going hybrid and taking the bus as much as possible. This dream came to a pathetic halt a few weeks back when we stayed at a big house on one of the islands along with several other families. BigB saw how much crap they toted along in their SUVs to support their babies and tots and surmised that trying to fit two dogs and a baby + gear into one of our small "sedans" was a lesson in futility.

It just so happened that another one of our friends wanted to "downsize" as her kids are in high school and college, and she wasn't needing a vehicle with a third row of seats. We actually traded. Isn't that crazy!?! We didn't have to put our cars up for sale, didn't have to deal with strangers taking my car for a test drive. Didn't have to put up with used car salesmen. Etc. And, no car payment!

Yay! So, for the price of convenience, I am now the proud owner of one very large SUV and have thus become the epitome of the urban mom. I feel totally alien in it. I am waiting for the day when someone flips me off - most likely one of the million bicyclers in Seattle who commute via two-wheels. And I deserve it. I have no business sucking up gallons of gas just to get to work. Luckily, the windows are shaded and with my big sunglasses on, maybe they'll never I.D. me.

All said and done, I do have to admit that there is something just a teency bit thrilling about sitting up high enough to see into the cars all around you. Slightly voyeuristic. And there's something empowering about knowing you could practically drive right over those tiny smart.cars (although those things are super cool - especially when they park sideways). And, for whatever reason, the only music that seems appropriate to listen to while driving is country. Out goes NPR, in comes Carrie.Underwood.

Now I just have to decide what bumper sticker will make the look complete: "My dog is smarter than your kid"? Or, "Soccer Mom's Rule"? Or, "My other car is a Prius"?

Nothing Quite Like Family Guilt

2009-04-03T10:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I wasn't feeling too hot. Several nights of zero sleep left me feeling foggy, nauseous, and achy. My older sister stopped by and within minutes was telling me all about a recent episode of Dr Phil that she had watched.

Apparently it was all about moms who go back to work after their baby is born so that they can support their 3,000 s.f. homes and brand new cars. My sister told me that I needed to stay home after little LadyBug is born and be with her. That nurturing my child was more important than anything else, and that I needed to do whatever it takes to stay home with her.

I was stunned. No one in my family has ever come out and chastised me for my decision to go back to work. I blubbered, "we don't have a choice! I have to work!" She retorted that there's always a choice. I told her we'd have to sell our house, and move into an apartment at least 30 miles away (apartments are super expensive in Seattle), and even then, we'd be lucky to pay all our bills each month.

She went on to say that she did it. She put her first baby in childcare, but when she had her second, she quit her job, stayed home, and opened a day care. "You just have to prioritize," she quipped.

Big Stream of Tears Ensued.

It's all so frustrating. BigB and I have worked our arses off to try and pay off our debt. We don't drive fancy cars, we live in a tiny home, we don't go on vacations, nor do we eat out more than a few times a month. On top of that, we have the whole overarching economy issue. Who knows if BigB will be out of a job in the next six months. It could totally happen. Now is not the greatest time for me to quit a steady job.

All that being said, I'm pretty sure I don't want to be a full-time SAHM. I can hardly stand being home all day when I'm sick. I have a sneaking suspicion that at the end of my maternity leave I'll be chomping at the bit to go back to work. I'm sure, too, that it'll be really tough to leave the little Bug and I'll be even more elated with every moment I'm able to spend with her. We're trying to be very creative with childcare solutions - working from home at least one day a week, having my mom watch her one day a week, etc, so we can maximize "us" time vs. "daycare" time.

I guess it's just frustrating to not have a choice, and then to be totally guilted by a member of your own family. I never thought I'd see it. I thought my family would know our situation enough to understand our decision. It makes me wonder what all my SAHM friends are thinking. My boss is thinking. Not to mention strangers. Not that I care (well...maybe a little bit).

Ugh. This dilemma is futile. I'm going to go eat something made entirely of chocolate and pretend life is a bowl of roses.

One more shot for ol' times sake

2009-03-31T10:59:00.000-07:00

Got my Rh shot yesterday because, lucky me, I am O Negative. I can give blood to anyone who desires...but can only take O-. Crazy the things you learn.
The shot was fantastic. I had actually missed dropping my drawers for people. A shot! In my rear! This I can relate to.

After said shot, the nurse, whom I just love, said, "and just think! You get to have these every time you're pregnant from now on!" It was fun to just giggle and believe for a moment that I was a "normal" woman who would have more pregnancies down the road and would have to think about such things.

This goes hand-in-hand with the question that my OB-GYN asked at my appointment last week. She said, "so...now's the time to be thinking about birth control - what you want to use after the baby's born." Whaaaaaa? Why would I want to use birth control? I suppose "normal" women contemplate such things, but me? Heck no. I want to know what I gotta do to get pregnant again. Pills? Shots? Temp charts? Fasting?

I guess we don't really hold out much hope for getting pregnant again. We certainly can't afford another IVF. And countless IUI's only resulted in MC. So, what type of birth control we would want certainly isn't in our vocabulary - because if it happened, we would be ecstatic. BigB doesn't even want to entertain the idea of talking about fertility stuff post-baby. He wants to "enjoy the moment." I totally agree, but there is this pressing deadline - like my 40th birthday - that is looming in the distance. It's hard not to get caught up in the future and what may or may not happen.

What has been fun is feeling the baby's head (or rump?). I still can't really figure out which end is which, but I can definitely feel something round and hard (like an orange) that moves around. Crazy!

Letting Go

2009-03-25T15:44:00.001-07:00

In the spirit of spring cleaning and purging, what are a few things you just cannot seem to get rid of? And why?

Here's a few of mine (believe me, there are lots more):

The Lemonader - a machine that makes lemonade. Got it as a wedding present. Used it once and it left a nice sticky film all over my kitchen floor after it erupted. Made some darn good lemonade, though. Who knows when we'll have a plethora of lemons and might need to make some.

2 sets of hot rollers and 4 curling irons (including a crimper) - ya never know when my hair might grow long enough to use them and styles might come back where I'll need a LOT of these. In every shape and size.

Underwear - somehow I've accumulated enough underwear to clothe a small city of women. They just never seem to wear out. Some don't fit, but I don't want to get rid of them because I WILL lose weight. Plus, they never really go out of style, do they?

Grade School/High School/College memorabilia - how much is too much? I can't bear to let go of the little wooden name plates my campers made me one summer when I was a counselor. Nor all the diaries. Lord - there was a lot of drama back then. I can't just forget about all those boys I had crushes on!

Exercise Machine - it never actually made it out of the box. But I swear, someday I'll use that machine that attaches to a door a becomes a virtual gym. Really, I will. I mean, I ordered off an infomercial...it's GOT to be good.

Spring Purging, and Cleaning, and Sorting.

2009-03-24T10:59:00.000-07:00

I've missed ICLW. I'm so bummed. It's the one time each month when I get more than 5 or 6 comments. For that one week I feel like a total rock star! Plus its a great motivator to visit all the other blogs out there. Owell...I guess there's always next month.

This weekend we spent pretty much all day Saturday and Sunday going through all the stuff in the "office" that will shortly become the "nursery." It has been quite a task. That little room has also been the emergency storage - whenever someone comes over and we can't quite get everything clean and organized as we like we just shove it all in the office and shut the door. There was a lot of crap in there that wasn't remotely related to an office. Pulling everything out and trying to find a new home for it has created a brand new chaos that's consumed the entire house.

I was raised by a mom who is totally anal about cleaning. She didn't let me have leg.os or any other toy with little parts because she didn't want me "making messes" all over the house. There were no posters allowed on my bedroom wall, and everything, and I mean everything had to be put away before we went to bed. To this day, her house is always perfectly clean (almost sterile) - if you put your water glass down, it'll be in the dishwasher by the time you go for another drink.

This probably isn't the ideal way to raise a family (rugs must be vacuumed in the same directions so the lines are parallel, bath towels must be folded and put in the linen closet with folded side facing out, etc), but, it has shaped my sense of what a house should be: clean and orderly. However, I'm just not as good as my mom. When I look around my house and see piles of crap or things laying around it drives me insane, but I just don't have the time to deal with it all (I work full-time unlike my mom who didn't work).

Our little house has become maxed to capacity. There is no room for anything. Every cupboard and closet is overflowing - one wrong move and "boobytrap!" (remember that game?). I get a little overwhelmed when I think about adding one more person to the mix, not to mention all the accoutrement that goes along with her.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

It doesn't help that BigB comes from a family where orderlineness isn't next to godliness. He doesn't "see" that pile of tools on the kitchen counter that belong in the garage. He'll let them sit until I ask him to move them. Getting him to throw things out is like pulling teeth.

More deep breaths.

I think I've relaxed a lot since we got married. But now without the fallback crap room/office being eliminated? What to do? I have this relentless urge to purge. Must make more room! Friends say that it's the nesting instinct and that it'll ease up once the little girl is here. I dunno. Will it? Maybe that's why my mom has a little supply of Valium in her bathroom drawer. I shouldn't be so quick to judge. Right? Eleven weeks and counting. So much to do...so little time.

Random Thoughts

2009-03-18T16:02:00.000-07:00

I love daylight savings. It means a world of difference in the Pacific Northwest. All winter we go to work in the dark, and then by the time work is over, its dark again. With daylight savings it feels like we have a whole extra day when we get home from work. Although...it also makes me feel a lot more guilty about plopping my big bottom on the couch as soon as I get home.

I finished our taxes last night. Ugh. Do you know that you only "get back" about 15% of your out-of-pocket medical expenses? I guess its better than nothing. Although more would be better.

St. Pat's is really no fun without the beer. Why be Irish if you can't celebrate by getting smashed? This is my first National Ireland day without hitchin up me knickers and doin' a little jig. It was spent, instead, watching Idol. What is with that weird Adam dude? He pretty much creeps me out.

I passed my sugar test. No gestational diabetes for me. That actually came as a big surprise seeing as 40-50% of PCOSers get it. I thought for sure the writing was on the wall. Especially as I gained four pounds in one week. Now I can only blame it on eating relentlessly.

We spent the weekend with four other couples at a big house on Whidbey Island (San Juans). Even though the weather was totally bi-polar (sunny one minute, literally snowing the next) it was a great weekend with friends. We made a big St Pats feast and shared all our meals at one huge dining table. I made my "meat lovers" lasagna (four kinds of meat) one night. Mmmmm. It was a relaxing weekend and we hope to make it an annual event.

Drop and Roll

2009-03-06T10:51:00.000-08:00

It's one of my favorite new past times. It's called, "See How Far You Can Get Without Your Pants Falling Down." This morning was a perfect example, I'm in the office parking lot, hands full, and as I walk toward the office, my wonderful, stretchy-panel pants start inching their way down my hips. I know good and well it will just be a matter of moments before said pants are around my ankles.
What to do? What to do? Do I chance it and see if I can get all the way to the entrance? Or, do I put all of my stuff on the wet ground, wrestle my pants up as high as I can wedge them while office mates possibly watch manoeuvres from office window? If my luck runs out, I also risk everyone seeing my lovely granny panties and blindingly white chicken legs. Nothing hotter.

What makes it worse is the black trench coat I wear. Sans pants, I look like a pregnant flasher. Ga-ross. So lies the dilemma. I usually go for it, holding my thighs together as tightly as I can (which looks like a 3 yr old having to pee badly) while making a dash for it. Other times I just know that no amount thigh control will save me which means I have to hitch up my coat, then grab the pants and wrestle them up along with the large-sized panties. None of this is attractive for a grown woman. It's just wrong.

There has GOT to be a better alternative for maternity pants. I've got the bell.aband. It works sometimes. But there are days when nothing helps and I spend my entire grocery or mall trip scanning for empty aisles where I can hitch without being spotted. Sometimes I have no choice but to inflict young children and old men with my antics invoking nightmares across the Pacific Northwest.

BigB presented me with a pair of bright red suspenders. He said he was worried about the neighbors calling the police. They work well, but hard to coordinate with most of outfits (except my lumberjack ensemble).

Gimme some more samoas

2009-03-03T13:47:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year when little girls, dressed in vests adorned with a zillion patches, appear at every public venue, grocery store, and work place. They come across so sweet and innocent, with their cheerful grins and promise of great hope for the future. They pawn their goods so deceptively! They lure you in with tasty memories and the threat that what they've got won't last for long.

I'm weak. I cannot pass them up. I cannot turn my eye. Their swift little daggers hook me. What's worse is that one of my goddaughters is part of the clan. How can I deny those bright blue eyes coupled with chocolaty goodness paired with a thin layer of mint? Or shortbread layered with caramel, chocolate and toasted coconut?

Soon, I'm faced with 12 boxes of madness. I promise myself that I will put them in the freezer, and take them out for guests. But somehow I convince myself that I'll have "just one," which always turns into three or four, then soon, the whole box.

It's a destructive cycle that I look forward to each year.

Just Your Typical Monday Morning

2009-03-02T14:42:00.000-08:00

Well...whatever was causing the crazy jackhammer jaw sleeping syndrome has gone. At least I've been jackhammer free for three nights.

BigB was out of town for the last week. I can admit openly here that I had the best sleep EVER! And, boom, as soon as he came back, I'm awake all night long. I wonder how it would affect our marriage if I asked him to sleep in the guest room. Juz kiddin'. Sorta. There's just all that room in the bed for me and my copious pillows! And no snoring! And no flinging arms whapping me in the face! No alarm clock going off at 4:45 in the a.m.! Ahhhhh. It was bliss. To bad he wasn't a pilot. Then I could count on him being gone for weeks at a time a LOT.

Seriously, though, I did miss him. He's my best friend and I really feel out of sorts when he's not around. When he left last week, he gave me a little teddy bear that was holding a bag of my favorite Pep.Farm cookies and a sweet card. Awwwwwwwww.

Over the weekend I started getting this really crazy aching in my, ahem, netherregions. The same regions that a ginormous bowling ball (I mean baby) will be traveling through in a few months. I also had this nagging pressure in same said netherregions. It just felt so weird. So, of course I put the question to Dr Google and my myriad of pg books till I found an answer that made me feel a bit better. "Pains" like these are apparently common and are not to be worried about unless they don't get better with rest.

Friday and Saturday, the ache and pressure seemed to disappear as soon as I was horizontal on my (spacious without the BigB) bed. Last night was a different story...the aching and the pressure didn't relieve with a little snooze time. It just kept on comin. On top of that, little Lady Bug decided to burrow down somewhere in the lowest part of my uterus (like right on top of my pubic bone) and give me some kicks. Usually she's everywhere, trying out her tennis star backhand and her black belt karate chop all over the place. But yesterday and last night, I could only feel little tiny kicks and movements and they were all down there.

As previously mentioned, I got no sleep last night cuz BigB was back in town. That gave way for the perfect Trifecta. I obsessed all night that I was going into preterm labor. All the signs were there: aching in the vag wall area, pressure on what I guess was the cervix, and my little lady making her way head down for a smooth ride into the real world. Bad thoughts gone wild.

Of course at 8:01 I'm on the horn with the nurse, trying to hold back the tears. They graciously squeezed me in "just to be on the safe side." After hooking me up to a fetal monitor, a uterus monitor (?), an ultrasound, a pelvic check, and some bloodwork. They think everything is just fine and they "don't know why" I'm having these pains. Which makes me feel slightly better. I'm glad everything points to nothing, but I want something rather than nothing for an explanation!

While I was there, they gave me the awesome GTT. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Orange syrup. It wasn't all that horrible other than the horrendous sugar headache and sweats. And nausea.

What a way to start the week! But, on the bright side, it is gorgeous out today. My car told me it was 59 outside. 59! That's like a tropical heat wave! I'll take it and be thankful for sunshine and some good news.

I'm a snoring whack job

2009-02-27T20:37:00.000-08:00

I've been having the craziest "dream" lately. I guess its not really a dream...more like a sensation. But its reoccurring, and happens almost every night, sometimes twice a night.

Being knocked up, my nose is stuffy all the time, especially while I'm sleeping. This means that I have to sleep with my mouth gaping open like fish. Super sexy.

With my mouth cracked open, I get this dream/sensation that my mouth is vibrating so hard that my teeth are clanging together. Sometimes my teeth even feel like they're breaking apart in my mouth. It wakes me up, every time. It's SO weird. I know - I'm a whack job. But what is it? My only guess is that the whole open mouth thing makes me snore and maybe I'm sensing the snore?

It's the hormones. I blame everything on the hormones.

My piggy is broke

2009-02-25T12:08:00.001-08:00

Seeing as March is knocking at our door, I started the insane task of taxes. I don't know how I received this great honor in our household, but here I am. Once again faced with a looming deadline and the constant nagging that I did something wrong and good ol' uncle sam is going to beat down my door.

This year, we get to include expenses from fertility treatments because they FAR AND AWAY exceeded the 7.5% of our adjusted income. After figuring in treatments, co-pays, meds, parking, mileage, acupuncture, massage, blah blah blah...the grand total is *insert drumroll*...over $35K. That's right. Out of pocket. And that's just one year.

Don't get me wrong...you can't put a pricetag on a child - I will be the first one to wave that flag and stand behind it like a mac truck. But, come on, we need mandatory fertility coverage! This is just insane. Insurance will cover the treatment cost for drug or alcohol abuse (which starts as an individual, totally conscious decision), but it won't cover treatment for a woman who has a disorder preventing her from having babies that she never asked for or did anything to cause. (I know this isn't a great analogy, but its all I can come up with right now). It really doesn't make sense.

I get a little heated when I think of the billions of tax payers dollars (including mine!) it takes to support people who have made bad decision after bad decision regarding their lives as well as the lives of their children (welfare, foster care, medicare), and most IFers can't even get a prescription for a fertility drug paid for.

Sorry for the vent. I knew this day would come - the day I had to face the piper and the bill that comes along with him. For the last couple of years I was able to just hand over the plastic with a poop-eating grin and pretend that I had cash to pay it off. But reality has hit me like a ugly brick. I don't regret it for a moment, but dang, our system is more screwy than a lightbulb.

Makin' a List

2009-02-22T20:28:00.000-08:00

Today I took on the ultimate challenge. Registering. Those aisles that made me cry just eight months ago now scare the bajeezus out of me. I tried to get avoid it by just doing the online thing - but I quickly found out that most of the crap available online can only be ordered online. And let's be honest, how many people buy baby shower gifts in advance. I have to believe that most are like me...running to the store on the way to the party, shoving the stuff in a gift bag and scribbling a note in the card while sitting in the driveway.

There is just so much crap! All the stores, websites, magazines tell you have to have all this stuff. I refuse to believe it. Yet no amount of research has left me with the confidence to choose what type of bottle? What type of carrier? A swing or a bouncer? Or both? There is just so much guilt associated with spending a ton of money on something that'll only get used for a few months. My mom has reassured me that babies don't need much. Yet, here I am, feeling like I'll be a horrible parent if I don't get the HUGE packnplay or the Bum.bo.

I recruited my friend Melissa who happens to have four of the loveliest children ever. I figured, she if anyone would know the difference between nice to have and must have stuff. I bribed her with a lunch date, and then we hit tarjay and BabiesR.US (a.k.a. HELL). It was so nice to have someone who just pointed and said - use that one! That's crap! Those are useless! You'll go insane if you don't have one of those! And now, if I chose the wrong one, I can blame it on her.

Odds and Ends

2009-02-20T15:50:00.000-08:00

When the sun decides to show itself in Seattle, the entire city reacts. Today is one of those days. I took a walk at lunch and everyone was smiling, and squinting their eyes - having not seen that bright ball of yellow in the sky for many, many months. It's the topic of everyone's conversations: "I hope the weather holds out for the weekend!" or, "It is so beautiful outside!", or "If I didn't see the sun soon, I was going to poke my eyes out!" (me).

That's how lame my life is. There just isn't much to write about other than the weather. Things are chuggin along. I'm feeling little lady bug wriggle around inside all the time now. She likes food alot - just like her mom. Everytime I eat a handful of peanut m&ms, I can feel her give me a few karate chops in appreciation. It's kinda freaky. Why doesn't she react to the handful of sugar snap peas I had at lunch? I hope she doesn't take after my freakish fiend for carbs.

We started the Massive Move - converting the office into a nursery. It started by moving our 900 lb armoire out of the living room and into the garage (which had to be organized and cleaned to make room for said mammoth). That gave room in the living room for the antique desk that was in the office, which made room for the smaller armoire downstairs to make its way into the soon to be nursery. Needless to say the house is an organizational nightmare right now. With 15 weeks left and counting, we got some work cut out for us.

My mom brought over a big pile of baby clothes she's accumulated on her almost daily visits to WallieMart and Marsh.alls. She decided to buy lots of Christmas outfits on clearance that are sized 0-3 mos. Lady Bug will be 6 mos at Christmas. I guess she figured that we could use them as emergency backup onesies. Strange. But perhaps they'll come in handy. Who knows? Certainly not me.

We're taking both sets of parents to see the Blind Boys of Alabama tonight. Should be an interesting night out on the town. But, a night out nonetheless! We're becoming such home bodies. I look longingly at the concert section of the paper, but know in my heart-of-hearts that I'd make it about half way through the first set before wanting to cut out early and crash at home.

Cough Hack Blow

2009-02-12T15:52:00.000-08:00

Cold and flu season has hit the Seattle area with a vengeance. Just about everyone I know is sick or has been sick. I'm no exception.

Let me tell you this is SO fun without medicine. Really. I am such a charmer when sick. The biggest baby ever. I hate hate hate it. BigB went to the pharmacy with a big list of "approved" over-the-counters from my OB and the pharmacist went NUTS. She could not believe my doc would say ok to sud.afed or Af.rin (only one dose allowed). So, all these lovely meds are staring at me. Mocking me. Tempting me. I'm trying to hold out. But a girl can handle only so much blowing of the nose and watering of the eyes.

Did you know that chap.stick works really well on your raw nose? No kidding. It's great. And the Vic.ks dabbed into the nose helps clear the passages for about 2 minutes until you have to blow again and off comes the magic gel.

And of course I can't smell a thing - so the gorgeous long stemmed roses BigB sent to my office aren't doing much besides looking pretty.

Like I said, good times. Good times. Hopefully this will all "blow" over (pun intended!) and I can be free from this fog that has taken hostage of my brain. The time off has allowed me to catch up on all my fave blogs - so write up and I'll comment!

Yet Another Baby Shower

2009-02-09T15:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to my girlfriend's baby shower. She's the wife of my husband's best friend. She decided last June to "start trying" and promptly got pregnant that month. Her shower was the first shower in a very long time that I didn't dread. I wasn't by any means excited about it, but at least I wasn't in a constant state of battle - warding off buckets of tears and bouts of depression.

Of course, being pregnant myself and sporting a stomach that is just about as big as the mom of the hour (yet 10 weeks behind her), I got asked when I was due. A LOT. I'm sure they were thinking, "Dang! That girl is ginormous!" I wanted to explain the whole fertility thing and make excuses, but I just smiled and nodded and stuffed another cookie into my mouth.

Oddly enough, I felt like an impostor. It was surreal for some reason. I felt like I was playing the role of a pregnant woman in a movie. I guess there are still lots of parts of my brain that have not wrapped themselves around the idea that I'm really Having a Baby. But there I was, with girls surrounding me asking when my shower was, and if I was having the I.D. the Contents of the Melted Candy Bar in the Diaper game, or the I.D. the Baby Food Flavor game, or the Don't Say the Word Baby Or I'll Take Your Diaper Pin game.

I know that several times during the afternoon I wondered what was going on in the minds of the "childless" women there. Were they suffering? Were they dreaming of their own Someday Baby? Were they bitter? Were they jealous? For myself, it was difficult to just let go and enjoy the afternoon. I still hung out mostly in the kitchen and watched from afar. I wonder if that will change someday?

A Million Uncles

2009-02-03T13:05:00.000-08:00

I love, love, love the movie, A Christmas Story. It's the one movie, Christmas or otherwise, that I can watch again and again. There's a scene in the movie that I particularly identify with right now. It's where Ralph, Randy, and their friends are being bullied in the alleyway. Ralph's buddy is getting his arm twisted by Farkus.

That's me for the past three months. My eyes are all pinched together, little tears coming out the corner, wincing in pain. I'm screaming "Uncle! Uuuuuhhunnnncullllll!" Just like Randy's buddy, I'm being tortured. But instead of my arm, it's my nips. That's right, my nips. And they are killing me.

It's called Raynaud’s phenomenon. This usually occurs in the fingertips or toes, but lucky for me, its the nips. Temperature changes and even stress can cause my high beams to lose all the blood supply, then the blood rushes back. The nips go from white, to dark blue/purple/black, to a dark red. The rainbow of fruity colors isn't the problem. It's what comes with the kaleidoscope - an intense pain like no other. If you were fortunate enough to have three older brother and sisters (like me), and have experienced the "titty-twister," then you know what Raynaud's feels like. Although, unlike your brother or sisters infliction, this torture lasts sometimes up to 30 minutes and happens 10-20 times per day. That's right. 20 times!!

There really aren't any cures for this if you're pregnant - if you're not, you can take blood pressure meds (which may or may not help). Heating pads sometime work. Hot showers sort of work - but those aren't too convenient when you're at work or have already taken your shower for the day. Rubbing them furiously definitely doesn't help (much to my husbands chagrin).

The only thing I've found that helps a teency bit is to unleash the hounds when they start barking. If the girls are being held captive, I've got to let them free. This means kind of pulling them (just the nips) out of my bra - folding the material back just a bit. This sometimes alleviates the pain (in about 10 minutes). I've contemplated not wearing a bra at all, but have decided that I'd rather not have my boobs end up somewhere around my knees by the time I have this baby.

So, that solution helps. However, it also means that the high beams are out in full force with nothing to soften their blow. They're like beacons in the night, visible from miles away. This isn't so bad while I'm sitting at my desk in my office, with my back toward the door, minding my own beezwax. But, when going to a meeting, decorum says that I must hide the offensive conical protrusions...which leads to eventual pain akin to an S&M session. You should see me squirm in my seat during a meeting as the gals begin their sadistic repertoire. I try to stay focused, but the intense pain searing through my breasticles is downright inhumane. Once, while in a co-workers office, I was in such immense pain, that without realizing what I was doing, I reached into my shirt and physically moved "them" out of bondage. The co-worker had his back to me, but I'm fairly certain he caught the act in the reflection of his computer monitor because he hasn't been able to look me in the eye since.

The other things that help, are keeping my house at about 75 degrees all the time. Staying out of drafts. Not going outside at all. And my favorite? Wearing handwarmers in my bra. This helps a little bit, until they get so hot they burn all that super sensitive tissue. I'm hoping I'll have some semblance of feeling after this is all over.

This is so much fun, really. I mean, driving down the highway at 65 mph with pain so intense you're crying, trying to fumble your girls out of your bra, and rubbing them furiously is SO fabulous and I'm sure is incredibly interesting/entertaining to passerby's. On top of it, I get an incredible headache just about every time an "episode" comes on. It's a lovely combination. Did I mention it lasts up to 30 minutes at a stretch?

Or, try waking up three or four times a night to excruciating pain that makes you wimper like a little puppy, and cry like a little girl.

The response from my doc? "I don't know what to tell you." If this pain was anywhere else in my body, and I wasn't pregnant, wouldn't they bend over backwards to figure it out? It blows my mind that they let it go on. Five more months of this and I will for sure lose it. And it could continue while breastfeeding! Waaaaaaaa???!!!

My 100th Post

2009-01-30T11:11:00.000-08:00

Because I can't count, this is actually my 101st post. But, posting 100 times deserves a shout out - so we'll just pretend that THIS one is the 100th.

There are a few things that are different from when I started this journal. An obvious one is that I'm pregnant - something I truly thought would never happen. I admit, I am a woman of little faith. But I'm different in many other, perhaps less obvious or tangible ways.

For one, when I meet a woman of childbearing age, I no longer assume that she has children. I don't ask her if she has kids or when she's going to start a family. For all I know she has been trying to start a family for a year, or two, or like my friend Lori, eight, long years. Bringing up the topic of babies and kids hurts and is not fun to talk casually about. When I meet a woman who is past childbearing age, with no children, I no longer assume that she didn't want them. I will tread lightly, because if she tried for many years with no pink lines to show, she probably still carries loads of grief and pain. I will downplay my own pregnancy.

And even though I am extremely blessed to be expecting, I am different than other moms-to-be. My path was wrought with heartache, fear, frustration ,depression, and sadness beyond comprehension. I didn't become pregnant on a whim. It was something I deliberately sought out and fought for. Was desperate for. Agonized over. It was not easy. It was painful work indeed. Instead of picking out paint chips for the nursery, I pray every night that God will keep this baby safe and that I'll get to hold her in my arms for real one day.

One thing that is not different is that I'm still an infertile. It's like being a survivor of a horrible illness. You're afflicted, you fight the battle, never knowing if you'll win or lose. I'll never be like fertiles who have no concept of what its like to be disappointed month after month after month. And even though I may have "won" this battle - I'll always think in terms of an infertile...will this baby make it? Will I have something to rejoice over, or something to lament? I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

This experience so far has definitely changed me. The stories I've read of other women who have gone through far more difficult journeys or have just begun, are truly life-changing. They haunt me. They lift me up. They have become this sea of individuals joined together with a common experience that no one else can comprehend or understand.

The second 100 entries in my journal will be different than the first. Instead of complaining about needles and hormones, medical bills and humiliating procedures, it will be filled with gripes and moans about pregnancy and parenting. But it will be ever tempered with the lessons and effects of being a surviving infertile.

Chocolates and Tots - get 'yer own!

2009-01-14T12:49:00.000-08:00

My boss gets us all a box of See's chocolates for Christmas every year. If you are a midwest or east coastie, then you don't know about See's. Which is probably a good thing.

This year, just like everything else affected by our wonderful economy, the box shrank. It's usually the big, two-tiered, 25 piece box. This year? The 12 piece. Which is still great, and much better in all honesty for my ever expanding waist (who's kidding whom? there's no semblance of a waist left at ALL).

I successfully avoided said pitfall (white box with little gold ribbon) for an entire week. Until yesterday. Today, less than 24 hours later, there's one pecan turtle thing and three half-eaten truffles. I don't like truffles. I usually take a bite to see what's inside, and put it back with a big bite taken out, if its a truffle (or those crappy lemon things - who likes those, anyway?). Right about now, truth be told, I am eyeballing those defiled truffle outcasts with the slightly stale/crunchy bite-marked edges. Mark my words, by the end of the day they'll be gone, too.

What is going on? What happened to my scruples and die-hard willpower? I accidentally left my lunch at home today and it seemed as if the world had ended. What will I eat? Where will I eat? What will become of me? I'm sure that I will waste away to nothingness. Sure of it. My appetite has taken control of my body and I am just a pawn.

Cravings? Yeah. I have them. I'm proud to say that I crave salads. Less proud to say that I also crave tater tots. Those little round fried things you got in the grade school cafeteria alongside fish sandwiches and green jello. I dream about them. My mouth waters for them. I can't get the tiny, greasy, ground potato-like goodness out of the oven and into my mouth fast enough. Tater tots! I must stop or the obsession will drive me mad. Must think pure and taterless thoughts.

There's a Stranger in My Bed

2009-01-08T10:25:00.000-08:00

There's a stranger in my bed. He takes up a lot of room. He's bulky. He's clumsy. I'd really like to kick him out. His name is Body Bo.ppy (BB for short). Apparently BB is supposed to help me sleep on my side (better for me and little tiny growing thing), but honestly, it is a big fluffy pain in my ever-increasing arse.

The picture on the package shows a preggo lady, all snuggled up and la-la-la-dreamlanding it. Just IN LOVE with her Body Bop. This is not what happens. I spend my nights trying to hoist it over me whilst keeping it under the covers (cuz jimminy its COLD this winter) and manipulating it into some semblence of comfort. Apparently its even better to have TWO of them, and put one on each side of you. I'm thinking that's a whole lot of pillow taking up crucial real estate in my bed. Plus its claustrophobic. And hot. Not to mention a major suppressor of anything in the romantic realm:

"hi honey...do you wanna give me a kiss?"
"Umm....where the hell are you?"
"Under this big pile of suffocating and heat inducing fluff."
"where the....what the...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

The whole sleeping on your side thing sucks enough. But throw in a couple of whale-sized pillows and you've got yourself a heckofa challenge for Uniso.m. But then again, take it away and I wake up with back pain that turns me into a crotchety ol' witch. Perhaps in time I'll learn to tame the unweildy cotton behemoths, and BigB will learn to navigate them.

Photo Treasure Hunt

2009-01-07T09:15:00.000-08:00

I was tagged by AYKM for a Photo Treasure Hunt tag where you: 1). Go to the 4th picture folder on your computer. 2). Post the 4th picture in that folder. 3). Explain the picture. 4). Tag 4 more people.

I have avoided this tag before, because frankly, the photos on my work computer are anything but interesting. But, I'm going to take one for the team and show you how mundane my small little world really is:

This is a picture of my husband, BigB. Thankfully he was #4 in the 4th file. He is nowhere's near mundane nor small. We were camping at the Sand Dunes in Florence, Oregon. You will notice right away that he has a big skin tag on his nose. I implore him weekly to have it removed. It's like a bullseye...you can't not look at it. Especially when you're trying to get all romantic. Its got a personality of its own and he wont get rid of it. Yet.

BigB also has a big head. Very big head. I'm praying our baby takes after my side of the family and has a more manageable sized noggin. Cuz, dang. Like a camel through the eye of needle.

Here's my four tags (my sincere apologies if you've been tagged for this recently!):

Clio
Leslie Lane
Virginia
Faith

Christmas Reflections

2008-12-30T14:51:00.000-08:00

Has it really been over a week since I last posted? Geesh...so much for trying to get my 100th post in before the new year. I guess its been pretty busy. We got so much snow that my work was cancelled...so I ended up getting a whole extra week of vacation (in addition to the almost two weeks I was already getting). I haven't driven my car in over a week, and we've been housebound for most of it.

My family managed to brave the conditions and make it over to our house for Christmas Day Dinner. That was such a stressor. Our electricity went out the day before (Christmas Eve), so I couldn't clean or cook. That left Christmas morning...just three hours before everyone was supposed to arrive, to clean and cook for 15. Let's just say that dinner was three hours late. It all turned out, but it sure didn't seem like Christmas. Just too much rushing and stressing out. I was glad when everyone was out the door and I could put my feet up and just veg out.

I totally spaced on ICLW. Wellllll....I didn't really space, I just wasn't wanting to get online at all. It was nice to take a break. Hubby got me a NintendoDS, so now I'm cool like all the 12 year olds. He got me some game that's supposed to make you smarter. Hmmmm. It also has Sudoku on it which I love.

We're taking the tree down today. We got a new couch for Christmas, and they're delivering it tomorrow. I'm sad to be taking it down already. It seems so final...so anticlimactic. The snow has pretty much melted, the presents are open, I guess its time to be thinking about new years resolutions.

Every Bird Should Get to Fly

2008-12-22T21:00:00.001-08:00

This is one of my favorite commercials...I'm guessing unless you live in Washington State you haven't seen it. I don't know why, but it always makes me get all teared up. I think it has something to do with realizing a dream. Us infertiles go to great extremes to achieve our dreams...many times against all odds. Inevitably our journey isn't conventional and rarely one we'd pick, but hopefully brings us to a place that brings us a sense of fulfillment or realization.

watch it here

Celebrity Shot Recipient

2008-12-20T21:01:00.000-08:00

Got the call around 11 a.m. that the medicine had arrived in Seattle. They had to have it transported from Canada. I went to the hospital, to the Birthing Center, of all places, to get the shot. When I walked into the nurses area, and told them that I was "there for a shot," all eight of the nurses were like, "ahhhh, yes.... the shot girl - we know all about you." I totally felt like a celebrity. I guess this was kind of a special case - my doctor had been working with all kinds of state and national offices to get this medicine. It created somewhat of a buzz in the hospital.

I actually had to be admitted - for a shot! It was crazy. They took me into a room, registered me in the hospital, got a fancy little wrist band and everything! Then they had to take blood and do some type of tests, get my blood pressure and take my temperature. Then I had to sign about a million release forms. After all of that, which took at least an hour, I finally got the shot. Or shots - one in each butt. It was awesome. Total tag-team with the nurses. One gave one, and another, the second. They were trying to tell me that it may hurt - I had to set them straight. "Ladies, I had 10 weeks straight of shots in my butt. This is nothin'!"

Then I had to wait in my room, while they "observed" me. They had to make sure I didn't have any adverse reactions, like death or seizure. I had neither, and two hours after I entered the hospital, I was finally released.

That was a fun afternoon. And I'll have close to a thousand dollar bill to show for it. Because the medicine is still considered "experimental," insurance wont pay for it. Who knows how much the hospital bill will be. But, better safe than sorry, right?

Special Canadian Chicken Pox

2008-12-19T20:35:00.000-08:00

For whatever reason, I made it through childhood without getting the chickenpox. My mom probably should have made sure I got them, but seeing as I was the fourth, she got confused with her other kids and was sure that I actually had gotten them.

Fast forward 30+ years. A blood draw back when we were getting ready for IVF revealed that I had never had the pox. I had the option of getting the vaccine, which would put our transfer off for a month, or just proceed. I couldn't wait another month, so I just went ahead. I figured I had made it 38 years without getting them, whats another few months?

Of course I tell my OB this earlier this week at my appointment. She didn't seem too concerned. Just told me to steer clear of daycares, elementary schools, and anyone who looked like they had a polkadotted rash.

Today I get a rather excited voicemail from her to call her back "as soon as possible." This of course freaks me out. I call her back, dreading her answer, that some of my tests came back negative, or something weird. Come to find out, there was a woman who had an appointment 45 minutes after mine, who ended up having the chicken pox. This is where it gets interesting.

I probably wasn't exposed to her, but just to make sure, my doc wants me to take an immunoglobulin shot to block the virus. That wouldn't be so bad, except that the only company in the US that made it, discontinued production and so there's very little, if any, available. There's a company in Canada that makes it, but it hasn't been approved by the FDA. It's only available in a clinical trial situation. I can take it, but I have to sign a million release forms.

The whole thing freaks me out. It's only being tested in the U.S. They've been using it for almost a decade in Canada, but its just weird. I guess the alternative is taking a chance on whether I was exposed. If I was, it means major birth defects for the baby. I definitely don't want to risk this. Its hard to fathom that a silly little childhood virus could affect my little baby.

Coming Out

2008-12-18T13:08:00.000-08:00

I "came out" to my boss on Monday, and then to my entire staff on Tuesday. I couldn't hide it anymore. Word got back to me that a couple of people had asked because my belly was so ginormous. Either that, or I had been having LOTS of Christmas cheer. You really should see my belly, it is pretty impressive.

When I told everyone, I cried. It was like relieving a huge amount of pressure. It was really getting difficult trying to disguise my growing mass. Covering it up with a big bulky sweater or one of those high-waisted shirts just made it look bigger, and bulkier. Now I can just let it all out and not worry about it!

It took all of 10 minutes for the news to circulate through the rumor mill. I kid you not, I had a steady stream of people stopping by my office, along with all kinds of emails, congratulating me. Which was nice, although embarrassing. I know for me, when I saw ladies "come out" at work, I would immediately envision her, um, "doing it" with her husband. Err, ICK! You just don't normally think about coworkers doing the nasty. I wish I could set all their minds at ease and reassure them that we didn't "do it" to get "in the family way." BigB just jacked into a cup, and I took three kajillion shots and put my legs up in the air. That's how the magic happened. Pure magic.

The Christmas party went great despite the snow. People showed up and everyone drank and ate to their hearts content. I was the perfect hostess...filling people's glasses and fetching cold ones. Not my usual party stature. Usually I'm the one getting just a tad too toasty and making an ass of myself.

Had our 14 week OB appt on Monday. Everything was fine. All the tests came back good, so we're just chugging right along. She said, "you've gained a bit of weight since last time, so that's good." I've gained seven pounds since conception. I think I'm a little over what I should, but hey, the doc said it was "good," so I wont worry too much.

It's been snowing for days here. I didn't have to go to work yesterday or today. I've been the biggest lazy person. It feels awesome.

7 Random Things About Me

2008-12-15T11:28:00.001-08:00

Sweet Martha and Virginia tagged me. And since I'm trying to earn the "Plays Well With Others" status, here you go!

1. I hate mousses and puddings. The texture just grosses me out. Especially mousse. It's all airy and foamy and whippy. Blech. I have only recently learned to endure jello and pudding.

2. I have a spot on the side of my nose. It's one of those that comes with being "mature in years" and spending too much time in the sun. At least once a week someone whispers that I "have something on my nose...maybe makeup?" And I have to tell them its just a little brown spot. Don't worry. I've had it checked out. It's fine and can be removed for a couple hundred bucks. I've grown attached to the little bugger though. It's shaped like the Hawaiian Islands. I like Hawaii.

3. I have moved cross-country by myself, three times. Each town was about 2500 miles from the last. There's something incredibly freeing and exciting about moving to a new place where no one knows you and you know nothing about the place you're going to live. I loved figuring out where to take my dry cleaning, get my hair cut, go grocery shopping. It's been five years since my last move. I'm getting the itch...

4. My maiden name was slang for "vomit." Growing up was fun for me.

5. I am trying to read the entire Bible before I give birth in June. The Bible is big. There are large boring bits. The type is small. I have read 221 pages. There are 1800 total. I'm screwed.

6. I met my husband through my mother (creepy, but true).

7. I have a reoccurring dream with David Boreanaz (Buffy, Angel, Bones) where he is a kazillionaire and is madly in love with me. He is HOT and in my dream I am HOTTER.

Who gave me the crazy pill?

2008-12-12T14:42:00.001-08:00

I am officially crazy. There's been more than enough warning signs along the way, but now its official. I agreed to throw a Christmas Party tomorrow night. Granted, it wont be huge, maybe 20 people, but what-am-I-thinking? I've been so tired lately that I can barely brush my teeth before bedtime. What makes me think I can stand on my feet for umpteen hours tomorrow cooking and cleaning?

We usually have a Labor Day Fiesta party, but this year we were knee-wide, I mean, knee-deep in IVF preparation. I was in NO mood to host a big party. So, BigB begged for a Christmas party instead.

There's a small chance at salvation: a big snow/winter storm. It's headed our way and could bring lots of snow and ice tomorrow. Which would actually suck worse. Because I would still have to do the work, and probably only 1/3 of my peeps would show up. We are BIG wooses in Seattle when it comes to driving in "winter conditions."

Wish me luck. I'm going to need it to pull this off!

Frock Shopping...errr, Shipping

2008-12-10T16:44:00.001-08:00

I just placed a whopping $267 order at Tar-jay for maternity clothes (ooohhhhhh pleeez don't let my husband read this cuz he will FREAK). Here's my rational...most of it (well, at least half of it) will go back. I just had to order extra things to try them all on and see what works best. There was free shipping so it didn't cost extra to ship those additional pairs of pants, and I can take the stuff back to the store- no return fees!

I was already at the dregs of my closet. After gaining 15+ pounds from being on fertility meds for the past year and a half, there are precious few things I can still wear. And there's not a thing that will fit without the aid of my dear friend Belly.Band. So, my premise was to order a bunch, try them on in the comfort of my home (who can stand those tiny, coffin-like dressing rooms?), and return most of it. How's my argument? Will he buy it (no pun intended)?

Anyhoo, I'm looking forward to getting my big box of big pants and shirts in the mail. It might be the only present I open this Christmas (BigB and I bought a new fancy shmancy TV "for each other" instead of gifts. And Rock Band - which I adore and kickASZ on). I bought nothing with prints. All solids. I decided after wearing a horizontally striped cardigan the other day that stripes are NO LONGER my friend. And all those patterned maternity shirts out there are rarely flattering, pregnant or not. I had them ship them to me at work, so hopefully everything fits inside one small-ish box, otherwise I'll have to bribe one of the young guys to haul all my loot out to my car. I can hardly wait! Even if it is Big Clothes that I'll only get to wear for 6 months, or so. Excited nonetheless. New Clothes! In a Package! Through the Mail!

Let there be light!...and a sappy movie

2008-12-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

We finally got our Christmas tree yesterday. It took all of 10 minutes. I feel like every tree deserves a chance to get all gussied up and so I usually pick the first or second one I see.

After setting it up in the living room, BigB went off to study for his finals. I tackled the task no one likes - putting on the lights. It failed to even cross my mind that you might want to test the lights BEFORE putting them on the tree. But, ya know, they worked when I took them OFF the tree last year, so why wouldn't they work when I put them back ON? But noooooooo, three of the four strands failed to perform their functional duty.

As I was stringing up the (soon-to-be-realized) useless strands, I came upon the Christmas movie, "Prancer." I had never seen, not even heard, of this movie. It was great! I don't know how I missed it all these years. It was sweet. I cried. Of course. Everything makes me cry, especially a little girl with a reindeer. I had already watched the end of Gremlins (didn't make me cry but those freaky things sure look curiously a lot like my Boston Terriers), and all of the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (didn't make me cry but made me seriously think about bratty children). So basically it was a fairly unproductive afternoon for me. And that's ok. BigB came home to a poorly lit tree, boxes strewn everywhere, and me in a pile of snotty tissues and red eyes. 'Tis the season!

Peace at Last

2008-12-05T21:06:00.000-08:00

I did it. I made the appointment and I went. It was strange. I made the appointment on Tuesday for the whole Nuchal and Triple Screen, and by Wednesday I was totally at peace. I wasn't worried, I might even have been a little excited.

I was 10 minutes late getting home to meet BigB so we could ride together to the hospital, and then we ran into a huge traffic jam and of course argued the whole way. We finally got to there, only to be in one big, huge maze - why can't they put more signs in hospitals - people there are sick or hurting or late for an appointment - they shouldn't have to hunt. We finally got to the office 30 minutes late. I felt like such a shmuck! But, they were nice and still saw me (although we had to wait another HOUR with a FULL BLADDER - I secretly think that was my punishment).

When we finally got called in, I was pleasantly surprised once again with the realization that I didn't have to disrobe. Not one stitch. So nice not to have to show all my bits to yet another stranger. The gel they used was even WARM which was also nice. I felt like a turkey being basted with warm butter.

Everything was fine! We heard the heartbeat (which I could have listed to for hours), saw the Little Bugger's hands, and feet, and brain, and spine, and head, and arms, and face. It was so crazy, so sweet, and so amazing. There was an awful lot of prodding of my belly - Little Bugger wanted nothing to do with the lab tech and her sonic wand. It took every ounce of determination not to pee all over the exam table with all the digging to find the perfect picture.

The genetic counselor came in and gave us the good news. Little Buggers neck is apparently the right size, so everything seems to be good. We'll have to wait another week and a half before we get the results of the blood work, but she said that she said rarely did the bloodwork come back and make our "odds" worse.

It was all comforting and reassuring for sure. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted and I can maybe, just maybe, start enjoying this whole pregnancy gift. We have a DVD of the whole thing, so we can watch Little Bugger whenever we feel like it. I'm determined to keep a positive frame of mind, be joyful everyday, and enjoy this experience.!

It's been a hard week

2008-12-02T14:42:00.000-08:00

The past week has been really tough for me. Not tough as in horrible-tragic-nightmare, just plain difficult.

As mentioned before, I am a worrier by nature. I obsess. I literally wring my hands all day long. And pace. And mull every possible outcome over in my mind - especially at night when I'm supposed to be sleeping.

This past week I haven't felt pregnant at all. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Maybe a few headaches, maybe some heartburn, but nothing that isn't par for the course outside of pregnancy. Of course this means that I am worrying myself sick that something is undoubtedly wrong.

Add to this that BigB decided that he wanted to make The Big Announcement at Thanksgiving Dinner. Appropriate of course...we are very thankful, but I just couldn't get over the nagging feeling that we'd (HE'd) be emailing and calling everyone in a few weeks to tell them that it in fact did NOT work out and that I was laying in a heap in the corner probably never to fully return.

Of course, I can't just worry about all that. I have to pile on the worry that if I am in fact still pregnant, that there is something horribly wrong. Then there's the whole testing/screening decision that I have still managed to put off.

These two scenarios have had me in fits of sobbing, wracking tears, just about every day for the past week. Big B has tried to be sympathetic...but mostly he just wonders when I'm going to be excited and happy.

I think part of it has to do with all of the testing and interaction with fertility treatments. I was in their office so frequently. And then the testing. You know what's happening in your body down to the inch and minute. It's totally unnerving to have to wait four weeks between appointments. Plus, we know all too well that pregnancy after infertility is not a cakewalk. We have dear friends who have had horrific tragedies, and who am I to think that after all of this time and countless setbacks that this could actually happen and everything could be just fine.

Mmmmmmmm, Turkey

2008-11-25T08:53:00.001-08:00

So...no conclusive decision as far as testing go. I'm guessing that means that I probably wont do any testing. Because ignoring a problem and hoping it goes away is a good, solid, healthy plan.

On to more exciting and salivatingly addictive topics. Thanksgiving!

I love Thanksgiving when it's on THIS side of the mountain pass. For the past three years we had to make the 6.5 hour roadtrip to Big B's mother's house. There is not a moment during those trips when I can relax and let my guard down. It's always one big stress-fest, with me counting down the hours...no, minutes, until we can leave.

This year we're having it at my mom's house, although I'm bringing most of the food (including the turkey) for 15 people. It will be a teency bit strange, because my four step brothers and sisters are coming with their spouses and kids, and my "real" brothers and sisters aren't coming at all. It will still be fun, though. They're a great group of people, kind of reserved and polite, but very easy going.

This is totally unlike my siblings. When we get together it becomes A Big Competition...who can be Most Funny? who can Get the Most Attention? who can still do a headstand? (I'm serious...with my oldest brother at 50, we inevitably challenge each other to see who can still do crazy human tricks). We talk loud, disagree, sometimes say not-so-pleasant-things to each other, are completely honest about the turkey/pie/stuffing.

This leads me to my Top Ten Turkey Day Foods:

1. Mashed Potatoes (only my mom's will do...mine turn out like play-dough)
2. Sweet Potatoes (they must have marshmallows on top)
3. Cherry-O Cheesecake (this is such a nostalgic, yet horribly wonderful desert)
4. Apple Pie (my special recipe)
5. Rolls (the white fluffy kind with lots of butter and jam)
6. Carrot Casserole (sounds weird, but is awesome)
7. Cranberry Sauce (made with real cranberries, not that canned jelly stuff)
8. Ambrosia Fruit Salad (my sister's top secret recipe...terribly fattening)
9. Turkey (dark and white combo) - no gravy!
10. Stuffing (new to the Top Ten List...I'm a late adapter)

I don't think it's ironic at all that my top eight items are total carb fests. I didn't earn this waistline by craving protein. I am digging IN this year. I'll have my Belly Band in place and ready to take on an extra inch or two of bloated goodness. There's no stoppin' me now. My only regret is that when you don't host Thanksgiving, there aren't the mounds of leftovers to nuke for days later.

Does testing make the heart grow fonder?

2008-11-21T13:00:00.000-08:00

We have to make a decision, and make it fast. We need to decide if we're going to do the whole screening/diagnostic tests for Maverick the Twirling Ball. I'm fairly certain we've decided against amniocentesis or CVS because of the whole risk of miscarriage. But what about the noninvasive ones (Nuchal & triple screen)?? Being the ripe ol' age of 38 definitely puts us at a much higher risk for chromosomal disorder than those youngins out there getting pregnant for the first time at 25 (national average).

Big B says NO go. The tests are notorious for false positives and knowing that something *could* be "wrong" with the little nutcracker isn't going to change anything for us. It would just make me sad and depressed the whole pregnancy.

I'm not so sure. Being The Worrier that I am, I feel like it would be so nice for those tests to come back normal and be able to have some sense of peace. But what if it was positive? Would it be good to know so that I could prepare myself? Or would it be better to be "surprised" with a chromosomal defect when Maverick makes his/her debut into this crazy world? I could just go on trusting that everything is rosy.

I just don't know. But, we have to make up our minds QUICK. It takes at least two weeks to get scheduled for the appt., and it's supposed to be done before the end of week 14. Perhaps my blogging friends who have been through this or thought about it could give me advice.

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

2008-11-19T13:27:00.000-08:00

A chuckle for today. And I swear this is a true story.

My aunt, usually a fairly thin woman, has put on some lb's in the past year. This has prompted her to by some new clothing. She bought herself a new outfit last week and decided to wear it to church on Sunday. After putting on her new pair of plaid-ish pants and brown sweater, she decided she no longer liked it. She laid it on the bed so it wouldn't get wrinkled before she took it back to the retailer. Off to church she went.

Her husband had to run some errands that same morning, and told auntie that he would meet her at church. He gets home after she's already left and sees the outfit lying on the bed. He assumes that she has got him a new pair of pants and sweater, and that she wants him to wear it to church. He does. No kidding. Yes, he thinks its kind of an odd outfit, but, hey, she's the expert in the fashion department. Who is he to challenge her taste in pants.

He shows up at church and she sees him walk in. She doubles over in laughter. He's clueless. She can hardly breathe.

I know, I know. Wouldn't he KNOW they were women's clothing? He's definitely not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

All clear

2008-11-18T10:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we had our first OB appointment. It was fairly uneventful. I thought perhaps there would be a parade in my honor...but, no. No parade. No fanfare. No "we've got a winner" broadcast. Just an appointment with a new doc. I'll call her Dr. Youngin', cuz she's got to be at least 5 years younger than me, which is weird in and of itself. Dr. Youngin' asked lots of questions:

Have I been taking prenatal vitamins? Oh yes...for TWO YEARS.
Have I been tested for STDs? Um...yes - required for IVF.
Have I had a recent pap smear? Double check - required for IVF.
Have I had a recent ultrasound? Triple check - just last week.
(as they drew blood) How are you with needles? Must be okay...I've given myself over 125 in the past 3 months, not counting the kazillion draws. I haven't passed out yet!

But it was very reassuring to hear that everything looked good. She saw the little dancing ball, doing his/her usual arm wavings and spinning around. And she saw it all from the outside - the wand didn't go in at all! I was a bit confused when she told me legs didn't have to be in the stirrups. Whaaa? This is new.

The great thing was that she said I could take Unisom! (angelic choir sings). I have not had more than 2 hours of continuous sleep in three months. Most nights that's ALL the sleep I get. Not good. Took one little glorious tab last night and I was OUT. Not enough to sleep through the two or three urgent piddle requests by my bladder, but thankfully I went back to sleep after. I am a new woman.

Dig that Hole Really Deep

2008-11-16T21:40:00.000-08:00

Big B and I had a "date" on Thursday. We went to one of those fancy-shmancy restaurants where there's nothing but "small plates" which always add up to a very large bill. But, we decided to splurge. We hadn't been out together just for us in a long time and the stress of everything has definitely taken a toll on the marital bliss.

One plate down, and just beginning our second, the conversation sounds something like this:

Me: "Oof...I'm stuffed already. Everything's pushing up on my stomach...I eat too much and it makes me sick, I eat too little and it makes me sick."

BigB: "I think that these symptoms you're having are psychosomatic."

Me: "What? You think I'm imagining things? Like what exactly?"

BigB: "Ya know...like the sore boobs, and the queasy stomach, and the farting."

Me: "So...you think I'm making these things up?"

BigB: "Well....yeah. I think those things come later...it's still so early."

Me: "And how would you know? Have you had lots of experience with pregnant women?"

BigB: "At work - there's been a few women."

Me: "And they don't talk to you about their sore boobs and farting? Hmmm...imagine that."

I wanted to shove his $18 venison bites up his nostrils. But not before I strung him up by his toenails and read (aloud) to him every chapter of "What to Expect" in anannoying sing-song mickey mouse voice.

Tomorrow is our first OB appointment. I'm excited and scared, of course. But I am trying to take things one day at a time.

25 vs 38

2008-11-13T13:25:00.000-08:00

I read a statistic today that the average age of a first time mother in the U.S. is 25 years. 25! I don't even remember 25. I'm sure it was fun. It certainly didn't involve children or even remote thoughts of children (except for maybe preventing them).

So, let's break this down:

If I had been 25 when I had my first baby, said "baby" would now be 13.

I am 38
I will be 51 when my first-born is 13, one year into my AARP membership

I will be 55 when my first-born is old enough to drive me to Denny's for my "Senior Discount" Grand-Slam breakfast
I will be 58 when my first-born heads off to college and 62 when they graduate - just in time for me to start collecting Social Security benefits

This is sobering. I told BigB the other day that we needed to work extra hard to be fit and active, since we're going to have to complete with a lot younger parents. We will have to work harder to be "hip" and "cool" (even saying those words makes me feel old!). Hopefully it will make us young at heart and have a more youthful outlook on life. I'm pretty sure we won't be competing with our kids on the XBox, or borrowing each others clothes. But, we'll be a family.

Everything's Fine

2008-11-12T20:32:00.000-08:00

It's ok. I can breathe again. I really think nurses should take some type of course on how to leave a voicemail message. Here's her exact words:

"What you're describing is definitely not normal. The doctor would like to see you this afternoon."

What part of that message would not send you into an emotional, freaking-out vortex? I can think of a million different ways to communicate that message.

But, at the end of the day, everything's fine. We saw the little bugger. It was flipping all over the place, moving like crazy. The doc could barely take a picture, it was so active. Big B thinks it must be a boy - being all goofy like that and scaring his mother half to death.

I'm just so relieved.

Aching Hooter Apparently Not a Good Sign

2008-11-12T13:06:00.000-08:00

I'm on my way shortly to an emergency OB ultrasound. I've been having weird aching/cramping in my cervix/hootch area for two days. My clinic said that those types of pain certainly aren't "normal" and to skeedadle on in for a look-see.

As usual, I'm freaking out. I'm so scared that there's going to be something majorly wrong. Just as I was starting to let it all sink in and even entertain the idea that thing was really going to work...

Just last night I was thinking, tomorrow is day one of week 10. If I can get through this week, there's a good chance that this will really happen. Yesterday my mom came over to help organize our storage room so we'll have a place to store all the stuff in the office that's to become the nursery. I just started filling out a baby book that a friend gave me. BigB and I have been making plans of how we'll make our grand announcement at Thanksgiving. I ordered two pairs of maternity pants at JCPenE. My first OB appt is next Monday.

I'm trying to remain calm. Trying to remain positive. Trying to remember that God is in control and that He loves me. A lot. Prayers are appreciated.

A guest blog entry, bought to you by the Great Blog Cross-Pollination

2008-11-10T10:30:00.000-08:00

Early Pregnancy Elation and Fears

I remember fourteen years ago when I found out I was pregnant for the second time with our first son. It was overwhelming; feelings of happiness, joy, fear, anxiety all mixed up with hormones to boot.

I was never sure if I was going to become a mother, Ever. Especially after the pain of my first pregnancy ending in miscarriage with my soon to be Ex totally unsupportive first husband. After heartbreak and heartmend, soul searching, and a good therapist or two, I had come to accept and be okay with never being a parent, just a doting aunt. I had let go of my fondest wish and desire even though it hurt because I learned that it was so totally outside my control.
When I met my current husband and we decided to have a family, it was as if the world of possibility was opened up to me. My heart took flight when I saw the two pink lines and the shock and joy in my husband's face. My happiness was tempered with anxiety, I felt like I knew too much being a maternal/child nurse for many years before having children. My older sister, who is a Pediatric Cancer Specialist, also felt this way when she had children five years before me.

I didn't know what worrying was until I got pregnant and then I realized again, I had to let go, and accept the wisdom of my body and the child I carried. I had been given a chance to turn myself over to this selfless act of creating and nuturing life.

Our sons daily teach me the wisdom and beauty of "letting go", sometimes it is quite annoying for all parties concerned and other days, it's so wonderful I pinch myself.

Thank you for letting me share my thoughts today on Kandi's blog. As a mother of older children, I wanted to post something relevant for her. I hope you will join me in wishing her all the best for the happiest and healthiest pregnancy for her, her husband, and their child.

(guess this blog author in your comments below)

hello already

2008-11-05T15:35:00.000-08:00

I was at the grocery store yesterday and had this sudden feeling that I was in the set of Shawn of the Dead (without the gore, of course). It was if all these people were wandering around with absolutely dead-pan looks on their faces, walking the aisles mechanically.

I guess I try to engage people. I look them in the eye. I smile. I say "excuse me" or "pardon me" when walking in front of them while they're making a decision between the sundried tomato or mushroom spaghetti sauce. Rarely does anyone ever smile back, make eye contact, or even acknowledge that I have spoken to them.

Why is this? We're inches from each other, sharing the same space and activity, and they look like I have grown a second head and need to be put in a holding cell. Does it stem from years of being told, "don't talk to strangers?" Is it a West Coast thing? It's not like I'm trying to strike up a conversation or anything.

I get this on the street, too. Just say "hi" to a stranger and 9 times out of 10 they won't respond. I know I live in a big city, but, come on! I just really feel like this world would be a better place if we could give strangers a smile or a hello once in awhile. Just a few days after the biggest historical landmark in recent history where strangers were dancing in the street together, and we can't accept a strangers good tidings.

I'll keep doing it. Keep making myself look like a fool. But maybe I'll brighten someones day, too. I guess you never know.

Tiny Tank Issues

2008-11-04T10:19:00.000-08:00

We live in a small "cottage" built in the 30's. It's great for the two of us. Just enough room. Except the bedrooms are TINY! Our "master" bedroom is 8' x 10' with a teency little closet. It works fine, except we are tall people and have a CalKing bed. So, our bedroom is literally a "Bed Room," with little else able to occupy the space. The bed is pushed into a corner, so that we can still open the door. This means that one of us (me) has to get out of bed by scooching down and off the end, rather than just swinging your legs off the side. This is usually not a problem.

Last night I peed six times.

Six.

Times.

In the middle of the night.

Of course just as I'm falling back asleep, the tiny tank of mine screems, "reeeeeeleeeeeasssse meeeee!" And, there's no falling back asleep until I scooch my rump down to the end of the bad, over three or seven pairs of shoes, down the unlit hall to our freezing cold bathroom.

It really sucks a truck. I was hoping this was just an early pregnancy thing and that it, along with the constant feeling of bad-chinese-food-ingested would pass. But, apparently, no. According to baby.center, this absurd behavior will "die down as soon as your baby is born." Fantastic. I'm telling you what. I'm so moving Big B over to the other side of the bed. I really can't see myself "scooching" an extra 25-50 pounds of girth. It would be more like "hauling" or perhaps "winching."

My morning poke

2008-10-31T13:23:00.001-07:00

Big B reached into our dwindling supply of progesterone the other day and he declared that we were "out of needles." Whaaaaaa? Apparently our drug provider of choice failed to put enough in our last refill. So, calling our friendly 24-hour pharmaceutical provider hotline, I was able to get a prescription for needles called into our local pharmacy. Except not the pharmacy by our house, oh no, but the one 10 miles away. But hey, that's okay - we'll do anything for our daily dose of hive-inducing progesterone in sesame oil. LOVE the way that stuff feels goin' in. Mmmmm, mmmm. Can't get enough. Especially at five in the morning.

As we pick up the syringes and needles, I notice that they're completely different colors than our last ones. And the numbers on the packages were really small (meaning really BIG needles). I asked the pharmacy, "are these the right needles? they look really big!" She replied back, "they're the right needles if you're a horse. They are very big." Since I am not a horse, although my arse is so big that I may look like a horse from the rear, we got things kind of straightened out. However, the syringes are actually too small so the oil can't get sucked up into the syringe without a lot of conniving.

There's a few things I really look forward to at my morning poke:

The bonding time with my husband. It really brings us close together as he searches my ever-expanding derriere for a spot that has less cottage cheese and more, ahem, muscle. Sometimes it takes awhile and we get to chat about all kinds of topics like politics, our bosses, the meaning of our lives (at five in the morning).
Having a warm, wet washcloth applied to my bum. Especially when it isn't wrung out and it drips down my, err, great divide, and makes a big wet mess of my undies and pj's.
The left side. For whatever reason, my left "bum" is a lot more sensitive. I can feel every drop of that wonderful concoction going in.
The Deep Breathing that I get to practice. Especially on the left side.
The exit. Every, and I mean every time BigB takes the needle out, it hurts like a mother. I dread the exit. Loathe the exit. It feels like he's grinding it around, but he swears he's pulling it straight out.

I'll really miss the morning poke. Really.

Moment of Truth

2008-10-29T19:24:00.000-07:00

I was such a wreck today. But dang, I got a lot of work done. It's amazing what you can plow through when you're trying to stay busy to keep your mind occupied. By the time 3 o'clock rolled around, I could hardly walk - my knees were shaking so badly.

Big B met me at the Drs office. We had to wait in the exam room for 15 minutes before the doc came. It's pretty humbling sitting on an exam table, naked from the waist down, in front of your husband. "Dontcha think this look is sexy? Would you like me to wear one of these at home?"

The doc came in and she was in a black suit. The kind you wear for a job interview. Ummm...where was the white lab coat? It was totally disconcerting. I felt like I should be pontificating my weaks and strengths as she got busy with the magic wand. I made myself look at that looming screen. I needed it to be over with. And, wouldn't you know, there was a little blinking light. A heartbeat. I'd heard about it - but never seen it. It was truly unbelievable. I sat dumbfounded as she poked around and determined that everything to appeared to be in the right place, the right size, and the right rate. There were no tears, just disbelief. "b-b-b-but I haven't had any symptoms in five days!", I stammered. "Oh, I hear that all the time. Just wait a few days." She handed me a little printout of the tiny little bean and told me to go see an OB in three weeks. I think Big B had to put my pants back on for me and lead me out of the office. Praise God from whom ALL blessings flow. I just keep saying that, over and over.

Can we just skip tomorrow?

2008-10-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

I have totally worked myself into a frenzy. My first ultrasound is Wednesday afternoon. I have convinced myself that we aren't going to see anything. My symptoms have diminished - hardly any nausea, less twinges and pings in my uterus. Boobs are still hurting - but not as horribly, either. And, yes, I know that not everyone has symptoms, and they change from day to day, blah blah blah. But I feel different than a week ago.

I pretty much laid on the couch all weekend and did nothing. Just slept and watched horrible movies. I'm totally depressed. Of course, my close friends and family have been through this with me before, so they aren't so ready to jump on the, "it's going to be just fine" bandwagon. I think they think the worst, too. And Big B doesn't want to even entertain the idea, let alone talk about it.

I am dreading tomorrow's appointment. I don't want to go. I've been bursting into tears at random, and can just imagine what tomorrow will bring. Big B says to imagine the best case scenario, not the worst. I wish I could.

Major Queen Itch

2008-10-25T19:13:00.000-07:00

I got to spend the day with my mom today, which was super cool. I actually really like hanging out with her, and we rarely get to do it. She agreed to assist me in the herculean task of finding a new butt cradle (i.e. couch). Bless her heart.

At one point, she cocks her head and says, "why do you keep scratching your ass?" She didn't really say ass. She said bottom. But lets face facts. Its not my bottom, its my ass, and she had caught me red-handed, hand down pants, scratching it.

So I explained to her about my PIO-induced hives. I had thought my dogs had sprouted a new epidemic of invisible fleas, but after some google-oogleing, found out that it was probably hives from the PIO. Lovely. They are huge welts, and itch insanely.

I have been caught by more than my mom. Co-workers, librarians, uncles, Thai-take-out-dude have all experienced my ass-grabbing. I now do it so often, that I don't even know that I'm doing it. It's a naturally occurring phenomenon. I will have a conversation with you, and my hand will gravitate toward my backside and just start a rubbin'. It feels sooooogooooooooood. I do try to keep my hands outside my pants, but sometimes, in the privacy of my home or amongst family, I will admit that nothing will separate my hands from my bare hive-covered buttocks.

Let Me Introduce Myself

2008-10-22T08:55:00.000-07:00

I'm borrowing this intro idea from Liddy over at The Unfair Struggle. I don't know if I've ever truly introduced myself on my blog, so, here goes nothin'!

My name is Kandi. Well, it's not really Kandi. That was my nickname until I went to college. At that point I deducted that Kandi would really only be a good name if I was choosing a profession in porn, stripping, or prostitution*. And, since my college offered none of those degrees, I would have to make a switch to the full name, Esmerelda. Just kidding. It's Kandace. My family and friends from high school still call me Kandi. No one else gets to. Except for blog readers. Because, heck, anyone who takes the time to listen to me bitch and complain about my struggles with life and infertility can call me whatever-the-hell-they-want (except Whiney Bitch, please). As long as they keep listening.

Which leads me to my story of struggling with infertility. Apparently, I never clued-in to the fact that as women get older, they produce less and less eggs, and the ones they produce aren't quite as "fresh" as might be required for baby making. I only thought my chances of having a baby with some sort of genetic problem would increase. So, I followed my dreams and chased that corporate ladder and glass ceiling - having a blast the whole time. I wasted most of my twenties with a guy who swore he would never get married or have kids (which both have happened in the past year for him), and moved from coast to coast (twice) by myself having fun as only a single girl can.
Finally, beginning to hear the faint rumblings of my internal Big Ben, I moved back to my home city when I was 33. Found Mr Right (or Big B as I like to call him) when I was 34, got married when I was 35 and started TTC when I was 36. Just in time, right? Naaaaaa. My eggs were already dusty and crusty.
After six months of stupid ovulation charts and temperates (and NEVER seeing an ovulation), we went through every imaginable test and straight to IUIs - 5 of them. 4 failing, and one sticking only to miscarry in my 10th week. After that, on to a second mortgage and IVF. The first one apparently worked as we got our betas back just two weeks ago. We're trying to remain calm until our first US next week.

As for me, I love to bake cakes for friends and co-workers. And cooking in gereral. And I love photography - I even have a somewhat ironic side biz taking baby, children and sr photos. I have strong faith in God and try to incorporate that into every area of my life (Jesus drank wine, right? And swore from time to time?). And, apparently, I like to write.

Whew. That was a lot. If you stuck through the whole post you get a Gold Star.

*please note that if your name is Kandi, Candy, Candi, or Kandy, don't get mad at me for my connotation of our shared name. It just wasn't for me. I couldn't pull it off. PLUS my maiden name happened to be a slang word for "puke." I got tired of hearing, "I ate so much Kandi I xxxxed !" Not a good way to spend your school days.

Are your ears burning?

2008-10-21T10:18:00.001-07:00

So, yesterday morning, my co-worker walks into my office and shuts the door.

Uh - oh. Somethin' big must be going down for door-shuttin' time.

She whispers to me, "I was talking with vendorX, and she said that she was talking to another guy here at work who told her that you were pregnant."

Are you following? So, a vendor is told by someone else that works for my company (but in a different department) that I'm pregnant. She, in turn, passes along said intel to another person in my company (in my same department), who then comes to me.

The good news is the person who came to me already knew. She's the one person in my office I confided in. And whom I completely trust would never ever spill the beans to anyone.

The bad news is that after just two weeks of seeing the ever-elusive double pink line, my "secret" is somehow common knowledge being passed about by practical strangers! At the coffee stand: "Would you like non-fat or soy with your latte?" "Soy. Oh, and have you heard that the woman in marketing is pregnant?"

I mean, for a vendor, whom I hardly ever work with, to casually chat about it to one of my co-workers? This means the guy who told her must not think anything about spreading "the news"around willy-nilly - and that no "top secret" code was given to him when someone decide to bless him with gossip fodder.

I was so pissed. There was definitely some steam coming out of my ears.

How Did This Happen? We hardly know that we're pregnant...we haven't even seen/heard the heartbeat. Plus my FE said we didn't need a 3rd Beta. So, as exciting as the news is, its not something we're casually passing around as common knowledge until at least the second trimester which isn't until December.

I went directly to the source - the guy who spilled the beans.

Me: Hey, guess what I heard? I heard from Suzy that she heard from Sally that you told her I was pregnant!
Him: Oh, really? I said that? I don't remember saying that.
Me: She definitely said she heard it from you.
Him: I didn't even know you were pregnant!!
Me: Then why did she say she heard it from you?
Him: Well...I think I was speculating that you were.
Me: Speculating? I know I've gained some weight in the past six months...
Him: No! I never look at things like that. I just knew you and Big B were trying and I speculated that you were.
Me: Well...can you NOT speculate any more? This isn't information that we're sharing with people. We just found out ourselves and with everything that has happened over the years we need to wait until we're good and ready.
Him: Oh, yeah. I won't talk about it anymore. I won't even tell my wife.

Speculating? You speculate that your stocks are going to go up. You speculate that dinosaurs existed. You speculate that gossiping about your co-worker is going to get you into some hot poo poo.

Let's just take this little soap opera a little further. I happen to have another friend whom I've bragged about in other posts. She's awesome and I'm lucky to have her as a friend. I also work with her. And her husband. They know all about me and Big B. Probably more than they ever wanted to know. They swore up and down that they wouldn't share our news with anyone. Me thinks her dear hubby went over to said blabbermouths house (they happen to be friends), had a few brewskis while playing X.Box, and let the lips loose. So, I had to have a little chat with her, too. Talk about damage control.

The biggest thing I worry about, is that everyone at work finds out, including my boss. And if something does go wrong with the pregnancy, I have to face everyone, all day, every day.

Am I over reacting?

Show and Tell

2008-10-20T10:38:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd bring my two-headed dog to Show & Tell this week. Whaaa? A Two-Headed Dog you say? Yes, my two headed dog:

This is Charlie, my 9 month old Boston Terrier and his second head, Lucy. We came across them one day and decided that Charlie had either eaten Lucy and was trying to "pass" her, or he was giving birth to a puppy, or perhaps they morphed into one, two-headed dog, that we now affectionately call, "Charlcy."

Apparently Lucy had no problem with her little brother (who is now bigger than she) completely covering her entire body. She continued snoring and seemed not concerned.

Let's go back to the beginning, shall we? I got Lucy four years ago - when I was still a swingin' single. I had the sweet condo downtown and all I needed was a cute puppy to attract all the hotties in the neighborhood. Lucy weighed 2 pounds when I brought her home. She fit in the palm of my hand.

She laughs when you tickle her tummy. It's awesome.

She saw this police horse in the neighborhood, recognized the familiar black and white markings as her own, and asked the horse, "are you my mother?"

We welcomed Charlie into the clan last March. He was a consolation prize after the miscarriage. I needed something small to love and mother.

We soon realized that Charlie was alpha dog. So did Lucy. Thus the two-headed "Charlcy."

I hope everyone has a friend like this

2008-10-19T09:33:00.001-07:00

Last night we went to a surprise bday party for my friend's husband. We didn't know too many people, but it was still fun. This girlfriend, "C", is my only close friend who has gone through fertility treatments. She even miscarried about the same time as I did - but she went through a partial molar pregnancy with trophoblastic disease, which has to be the absolute most horrible thing ever. Talk about rubbing salt into a wound. But "C" has been so great about everything. She's the one who is happy for me, even when I can't be happy (yet) for myself. She always asks how I'm feeling, and responds, "that's how I felt with my first!" There's something very comforting in someone believing in your pregnancy, despite all the caution. She also knows those cautions and still has joy for you. It's hard to explain, but there's a difference between "stupid clueless joy" (not having any idea what you've gone through or what the risks and complications of fertility treatments are at 38!) vs. "been there done that but I still have hope and joy for you."

So few people actually know that this thing worked (at least for the moment) and that I'm walking around pregnant, worried sick that I'm doing or have done something to ruin it, or that it's disappeared and I wont see anything on the ultrasound in two weeks. Those who do know, know better than to be ecstatic yet, and so are kind of waiting in silence - just like me. For this one person to be happy for me, and have joy, and be positive despite it all. And, I know, that if it, God forbid, doesn't happen to turn out like I hope and dream, she'll still be there for me. Okay, there's tears all over my laptop. I better stop before I shortcircuit something.

Cake Wrecks

2008-10-17T09:18:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite blogs, Cake Wrecks, just won Best Humor in the Blogger's Choice Awards. This site just makes my day. I LOVE to make cakes. I believe it is my second calling in life (I still haven't figured out what my first one is). There's something about making a cake for someone that just warms my cockles. My cakes are the generic, normal, but totally from scratch variety. I don't decorate them...just frost. But the cakes on this blog are decorated. And NOT in a good way, IYKWIM.

I just have to share a recent posting. At first glance, its a sweetly decorated cake for a baby shower. But look closer:

The baby is coming out of a woman's stomach. Like a piece of shrapnel. I really don't know anything about birthing or C-sections, but this isn't what I envisioned it would look like.

And the woman has no head or arms. But, thankfully, she is in a nice, pink leotard. The baby looks pretty happy - not all pink and red and wrinkly like most other newborns.

Makes me wonder if the baker has no idea at all what happens during birth, or perhaps she has popped out a few of her own but has successfully blocked all memories and morphed them into a pink and lavender happy place where your head is successfully separated from all the stress and pain.

Where's Emily Post when you need her?

2008-10-15T13:01:00.000-07:00

I'm all in angst. I'm supposed to have dinner with a friend tonight and I'm totally dreading it. This is the friend who is married to my husbands best friend. This is the friend who got pregnant on their first month out of the gate trying, just three months after my miscarriage. This is the friend I've totally been avoiding.like.the.plague.

I know I'm avoiding her because of the Big Elephant In The Room. You know the one, right? That she (probably) feels bad because she got pregnant immediately and we've been trying forever. So we don't talk about her pregnancy - we ignore that topic. Or do we? Will she go on and on about every little thing so much that I start gagging on my salad? I'm sure she'll bring up how much she misses me, and that she and her hubby really want to be a support for us, blah blah blah.

What do I do? What do I say? And to complicate things, Big B (my hubby) is dying to tell his best friend (her husband) about our latest news. After all, it is his best friend. Shouldn't he get to tell someone? I don't want Big B to tell him. Because then he'll tell her. And then she'll make a big deal about it and probably tell all of our other friends. I don't want her to know because she doesn't know what it's like to be sitting on pins and needles. To hold your breath for weeks on end, waiting for that other shoe to drop. I don't want to piss on her parade just because mine's been rained on over and over. Ya know?

I do want to be happy for her. I really do. I know its something I have to work on and get over. I can't live my life alienating one friend after another because they get pregnant or have a baby, or already have babies, or are wanting more babies, or tired of the babies they have. I'm getting all teary-eyed thinking about this. I really want to cancel. I don't don't don't want to do this.

If you could only have 5

2008-10-14T09:38:00.001-07:00

So you're stranded on a deserted island, and can only have five things. You've played this game before? What if it was foods? What five foods would you want to be stuck on an island with? Think Lost, without all those hatches of weirdly packaged containers of peanut butter and candy bars.

Here's mine:

Good white crusty Artisan bread (baked fresh every day, of course)
White wine (Pinot Gris from the Willamette Valley)
Cheese (preferably a tray of all kinds, but if I have to choose one, probably Beecher's Flagship)
Kalamata Olives (pits removed, please!)
Greek Pizza (artichoke hearts, feta cheese, sundried tomatoes, maybe some chicken)

I know. Strange. No chocolate! BFF and I played this and we decided that it was a tropical island and that there would be copious amounts of fruit, like mangoes and pineapple. Otherwise there would definitely be some sort of fruit on the list. Gotta keep things movin', *if ya know what I mean.*

What are your fave five?