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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!