my story of loss...and life

IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!

2008-09-28T06:17:00.000-07:00

Avery Jane arrived on Thursday, September 25 at 5:13pm after 19 hours of labor. She weighed in at 7lbs 11oz and was 21 inches long. She is perfect and healthy in every way -- the tiny little miracle we had all been waiting for. And she was so worth the wait!!

For more on Avery click on the link to the right.

avery's birth story

2008-09-28T05:18:00.000-07:00

Labor started at about 10:00 on Wednesday night. By 11:30 I knew this was it! I told my husband to get some sleep and I went downstairs and wrote my letter to Avery, stopping every 10 minutes to get on my hands and knees during the contractions. By 3:00am the contractions were getting more intense and I woke my husband because I couldn't breathe through them on my own anymore. We stayed home until 11:30 the next morning. He rubbed my back during ever contraction and reminded me every single time that it wouldn't last forever. I called my midwife in the early morning and she encouraged me to labor at home as long as I could. My husband set up a makeshift bed for me on the floor so that I could try to rest in between the contractions and just flip over when each contraction hit.

By 11:30 the contractions were coming 3-4 minutes apart and were getting really intense. We packed up, got in the car and headed to the hospital. We live about 40 minutes from the hospital and that car ride was not fun!! I had 9 contractions on the way and I couldn't sit upright during them. The people on the highway must have thought I was crazy by the way I was straddling the passenger seat.

By the time we got to the hospital I was crying and getting a little bit hysterical. They checked us in within seconds and my midwife checked me. I was 4cm and 95% effaced. This was good progress considering I was totally closed and 0% effaced just 2 days earlier. My midwife was AMAZING! I told her I was still intending to have a natural birth and that I wanted her to encourage me to keep going even if I asked for the epidural. She had such a calming presence and suggested all sorts of different positions during the contractions. I was so happy to finally be in an environment meant for laboring and with a professional who knew exactly how to help me.

I labored in the tub for a while, which I LOVED in between the contractions. It was so relaxing and calming. We shut off the lights and my husband sprayed warm water over my belly. During the contractions, however, it was excruciating -- although I guess any and every position was excruciating at that point. At least in the tub I was really able to relax in between.

By 3:30 the contractions were coming right on top of each other and I could no longer focus enough to breathe through them. All I could do was scream. My midwife and husband kept encouraging me and reminding me how to breathe. They were incredible. My midwife checked me again and I was 8cm. I knew I was in transition and I knew this was going to be the hardest part. And it was! The pain was more intense than I ever imagined possible. I don't think I even opened my eyes again after that point. I was completely in a different state of being. I had no thoughts, just pain. I started to doubt if I could make it. I just wanted it to be over already.

Here is where I started to beg. I wanted the drugs and I wanted them NOW! I was screaming and crying and yelling for someone to PLEASE HELP ME!! My husband told me later he thought it was funny because here they both were trying desperately to help me and here I was acting like they were trying to kill me. Other things I remember hearing come out of my mouth were "I CAN'T DO THIS!" and "I AM GOING TO DIE!" and of course "GIVE ME THE EPIDURAL!" My midwife was amazing. She never said I couldn't have it, but she knew it wasn't what I really wanted. She just kept telling me over and over again that I was almost there and that I could do this. My husband kept telling me the same thing. He was so calm the whole time. Around 4:00 she checked me again and I was fully dilated and ready to push. I was so happy to get this baby OUT!!

I had heard that the pushing was the best part and a huge relief. I would have to disagree. My friend once compared it to pooping out a basketball. That sounds more like it to me. A very large basketball. I did not see how I was going to be able to get the baby out. But at this point I knew it was too late for drugs so I stopped begging. I didn't stop screaming though. My husband used the word "primal" to describe the sounds coming out of me. They were loud -- loud enough that I lost my voice, loud enough that I probably scared every other woman in labor in the hallway. But all I cared about at that point was getting the baby out as soon as possible. I wanted this to be over!! I kept asking how many more pushes, how many more minutes. My midwife never gave me an answer. She just kept saying, "You're almost there. You can do this. You are doing this!"

Finally after an hour or so she told me that I would have my baby with the next push. I've never wanted anything so much in all my life. I pushed with every ounce of strength I had left. I can't even begin to describe the pain. When her head finally came out it was an unbelievable feeling of relief. The rest of her slid right out and the next thing I knew, my baby was on my chest and I was holding her! She cried right away and was so pink and had this full head of hair! I was too exhausted and too in shock to cry or think. I just kept saying, "Oh my god, Oh my god. Oh my god." I couldn't believe I actually did it. I couldn't believe my baby was actually here.

My midwife lifted her up and told daddy to call it. He cried out, "It's a girl!" That was the best moment of my entire life. She was a girl and she was ours.

She was so alert and perfect and healthy in every way. I fed her soon after that and she latched on right away. I won't get into the gory details of my personal post-birth experience. We'll just say there was a lot of blood and it was a little scary. But all that mattered was that she was healthy. And she was!

Having a natural birth experience was something I always wanted to do. It was more intense and traumatic than I even had the capacity to understand before-hand. And I can't say I want to do it again anytime soon. But I am so thankful for the experience. It has changed me forever. And I am damn proud of myself for following through. I know that if I got through that I can get through anything.

And looking at my beautiful daughter right now I know it was worth every ounce of pain, every scream, every push and every overdue day of waiting.

I am completely in love.

i think this is it

2008-09-24T21:56:00.000-07:00

6 days overdue

Dear Baby,

It is the wee hours of September 25 and I think this might turn out to be your birthday. I am writing this in between contractions as Daddy tries to get some sleep upstairs. I might be interrupted a lot, but I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight and I need a project to pass the time while I'm not on the floor trying to breathe. So writing you this letter it is.

I want you to know about this night -- this magical night that you decided was the right one to come out and meet us. We planned on pork chops for dinner. Daddy always grills the meat and I always do the extras. Tonight it was steamed carrots and warm biscuits. I asked Daddy if maybe he could make the pork chops a little spicy to help give you a boost. Daddy liked that idea. He warned me before our first bite that he might have overdone it. Boy was he right! We both started coughing and turning red right away. It was the hottest thing I've ever tasted. Ever!! And then all we could do was laugh and laugh and laugh. Daddy kept apologizing for ruining dinner but I told him he didn't ruin it at all. He made it one I won't ever forget.

After dinner we decided to take a ride on Rocky Road. This is a dirt road through the woods at the end of our street. Some day it will probably be developed into a beautiful neighborhood. You might not ever remember it as dirt road. But for now it's a special secret path that Daddy and I discovered a few nights ago. It's really really bumpy! It's a little scary too. But it's special. Because we drive down it just for you -- to help give you a boost. And I think you like it. I love having silly adventures like that with your daddy. And I love that you get to have them with us now too.

After Rocky Road we came home and started to watch "The Office." This is Daddy's all-time favorite show. Mine too. But you started letting us know you were getting ready to come out. And Daddy and I are so excited to meet you that we decided to give you one more boost. Daddy and I love to take walks together but we usually walk during the day and it's really dark out at night around here! So we decided to just walk up and down our driveway. We did 24 laps. If the neighbors saw us, I bet they thought we looked really funny!

Then we changed our minds and decided the dark wasn't going to stop us. We put on our sneakers and headed out to the neighborhood. It's a whole other world in the dark. And I loved it. There are so many stars out tonight and Daddy and I both made a wish. Daddy's wish was quick and mine was long. He made fun of me for that but I didn't care. I have a lot to wish for. And I think maybe you heard me.

It's very late now but I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight at all and that's ok with me. I want to spend the whole night with you. I want to tell you how proud I am of you. We are in this labor thing together, ok? And I promise you I'll take care of you through it. I'll take care of you through your whole life. I promise.

So don't be scared, sweet baby. Mommy's not scared either. We'll get through this together, and at the end of it Daddy and I will be waiting for you. The whole world will be waiting for you.

Happy Birth Day. I love you.

Love,

Mommy

who are you and who will you be

2008-09-22T11:43:00.001-07:00

3 days overdue

Who are you and who will you be?

A man like your daddy or a lady like me?

Will you like fairies and flowers,

Or train tracks and cars?

Will you run and chase butterflies

Will you be wowed by the stars?

Do you know that I dream about you?

Do you know that I pray

For you, sweet little baby

Every single day?

Who are you and who will you be?

A comedian like your daddy or a giggler like me?

What will you look like?

What will you love?

Will you know that you are the sweetest gift from above?

Will you know how you've made your daddy a man?

Will you know that you've changed him?

Will you understand?

Will you know what you've taught me?

Will you know what I've learned?

Will you know that the road I was on

Has forever been turned?

Who are you and who will you be?

An athlete like Daddy or a writer like me?

What will you smell like?

How will you sound?

Will you know of the joy me and Daddy have found?

Do you know Mommy's voice?

Can you feel my touch?

Do you know you are loved?

Do you know just how much?

Do you know Daddy's kisses?

Can you hear his sweet song?

Do you know we've been waiting

For you for so long?

Who are you and who will you be?

And what are you waiting for,

Sweet little baby?

date day

2008-09-21T10:37:00.001-07:00

1 day overdue

My husband and I get restless yesterday and decide to venture out on an all day date. We go to our favorite bagel place for breakfast and then to Borderland State Park for an hour and a half walk. It is a beautiful fall day, much like the day at Borderland three years ago when I first knew he was "the one."

The first picture is from three years ago and the second one is from yesterday. I find it funny that I am pretty much wearing the same sweatshirt, only this time I have another person hiding under it! A lot has changed (and grown) in three years.

There's one thing that hasn't changed, though. He's still the one.

After going home for a long nap and a hot shower, we finish off our date walking around Faneuil Hall in Boston and then to the North End to our first date restaurant. It is a wonderful meal and a wonderful day. I consciously make a point to cherish these "just us" moments because I know days like this one are numbered. I also recommit to being patient waiting for our little late one to arrive, which is much easier said than done.

Truthfully, I'm still working on that one.

happy due date

2008-09-19T05:01:00.000-07:00

40 weeks

Yes, it's my due date, and no, the baby is not here yet. It might be my due date, but I guess the baby has other plans. This is not easy for me. June 17 (my first due date) came and went without a baby and I kept telling myself that by September 19 I would be holding my sweet baby in my arms. I've stared at that date on the calendar for a long time. And now September 19 might just come and go too. Of course I know my baby is coming and he/she is coming soon. I realize that rationally. But emotionally, I feel like a 6-year-old on Christmas morning waking up to a giftless tree still waiting for Santa to arrive. (Yes, I know I grew up Jewish but we can all imagine what that would feel like.)

I realize my thought process and emotions are completely childish. I know how lucky I am. I know I have so much to be thankful for and excited for. And I am. But I'm being totally honest here and I'm telling you like it is. I want my baby OUT!!!!!

It doesn't help that my friends and family are calling and emailing by the dozens to ask if I'm still pregnant. I know they all mean well but do you really think my mother is going to somehow miss the big announcement?!?!?! Um, last time I checked, yes, still pregnant. Pregnant enough that some man last night walked by me, looked at my belly and just said, "WOW!" I am past the point of cute pregnant girl. I am obnoxiously huge, stop-and-stare pregnant girl. It really isn't that fun anymore.

Nobody tells you in the beginning that the AVERAGE for first time moms is 41 1/2 weeks. And nobody seems to accept that either (and certainly not my mother!) They think of your due date as your cut-off -- that if the baby isn't here by that date, there is something seriously wrong with you. I should have told people I was due in the beginning of October instead. I should have told myself that too. I've had to actually switch my daily walking route to avoid a well-meaning neighbor who comes outside every day just to say to me, "You're still here?!?!?!"

Ultimately my baby gets to choose the due date. And I do sort of like the idea that it gets to choose its very own birthday. No matter what I do (and trust me, I have tried EVERYTHING) this baby is going to come on its own time. And my job is to sit back, trust mother nature, have confidence in my body and accept that my child is neither habitually early like its father or always right on time like its mother.

I guess someone in the family has to be late.

why are you having a baby?

2008-09-14T10:05:00.000-07:00

I am asked this question by a two-year-old this morning. My husband and I are out for breakfast, and a little girl at the booth next to us takes an immediate interest in my giant belly. I explain to her that there's a baby in there, and her mother apologizes and tells me with a sigh that she is amidst her terrible twos.

Later, after my scrambled eggs and toast (and three unmistakeable contractions!) the little girls turns to me again and asks:

Why are you having a baby?

As simple and innocent as it is, it's a question I haven't been asked before. I giggle and tell her:

Because babies are cute!

But I know this is not the right answer. The only other answer that pops into my mind is why not? But I know that isn't the right answer either. "Why not" is passive and it lacks power. And it's not a good enough reason for me.

So why? It's harder to answer than I would have guessed. Back in February I wrote about why I wanted this baby, which is a slightly different question than why am I having one. Yes, I am having one because ultimately I wanted to have one. My husband and I chose to create this baby. We made a decision to extend our partnership to include a new life. We made the choice to grow ourselves into a family.

But there's more to it. I know that there are plenty of women (and men) who want babies desperately, and for reasons I will never understand, they don't get them. I've seen it first-hand and it's horribly unfair and it breaks my heart.

My husband and I have been given this life. A gift from God. And there is no gift more precious. It is one that we get to give and receive all at the same time. Our first baby was a gift from God too. We accepted that gift with grace. We acknowledged its fragility and held it close to our hearts. We still do. We gave her tiny life meaning. And we haven't forgotten.

So when I think about why we are having this baby, the answer is quite simple.

Because we have been blessed.

bring on the pain

2008-09-12T05:22:00.000-07:00

39 weeks

I wake up every morning wondering Is today the day??? I wonder if my body will ever do what it's supposed to do and actually go into labor. I pray that every strange tightening and every little cramp gets stronger. I pray for my water to break so at least I'll know. I pray for the pain. I've never wanted anything so bad in my life. BRING IT ON!!!

I take back everything I said in my last post. This waiting is for the birds. It's funny to think back to a year ago when all I wanted was to be pregnant and stay pregnant. Well guess what -- I've now been pregnant for an entire year (minus one month) and I don't want to be pregnant anymore for another day! I want this baby OUT!!!!

Just for fun -- and because I am feeling the need to complain a little bit -- here is a list of things I will not miss about being pregnant:

*heartburn

*a squished bladder

*peeing my pants

*bending over

*weighing almost as much as my husband

*national geographic boobs

*trying to roll over in bed

*kegels

*round ligament pain

*difficulty breathing

*backaches

*pregnancy brain

*waiting, waiting, waiting

let it be

2008-09-02T13:04:00.000-07:00

37 1/2 weeks

I've been lazy about writing lately. I don't know why. I've had things I've wanted to write about, I just haven't felt like sitting down and doing it. Not that I've been doing much of anything else. I'm actually bored out of my mind and I'm counting the minutes until I can meet my baby.

Here's the problem, though. I don't know how many minutes to count. I am officially full-term now. Which means the baby could come tomorrow -- or four weeks from tomorrow. There is no real way of knowing. And let me tell you, that is one looooooooonnngg window.

I haven't worked in over two months now so I've had plenty of time on my hands. Today is the first day of school, in fact, and I am not there. Ten years of first days. But this time I am home watching "The Price is Right" while the rest of the world is moving right along without me. It's weird. And let's face it, I am beyond bored out of my mind.

The nursery is complete. Every bootie and cap is washed and put away. Every diaper is in its basket. The toys are put together. The car seat is installed. The hospital bag is packed. The house is clean. The fridge is stocked. Even the toilets are scrubbed. When I tell you I'm ready, I mean I am really really ready. The only thing left to do is wait. And as I've mentioned before, I really don't like waiting.

If one more person tells me to catch up on sleep now while I can, I am going to stuff a pillow down their throat!! Do people really think I am pulling all-nighters or something?? I am sleeping as much as any other 9-month pregnant woman can sleep. I have a zillion pillows in the bed and none of them really help anything. It takes me a full 60 seconds just to roll over and I make at least six visits to the bathroom every night. So please don't tell me to sleep more. I am doing the best I can.

The other word of advice I've been getting is to take some time for myself. I sure have plenty of it. So last week I go to the beach to visit my grandma. I've gone to the beach lots of times this summer but I realize then that this is the first time I've gone solo. Every other visit has been with my nephews or my friends and their kids. And let me tell you, it is nice to be alone.

I am reading my book and enjoying the cool ocean breeze and the soft warm sand under my toes. My grandma's friend's grandson is also visiting. He is about 15 and is somewhere wavering between boy and man. He has brought his guitar along and is practicing with his friend. The song is "Let it Be."

The boy's grandma starts singing along quietly and my grandma and her other friends join in one by one. Before I know it, I am humming along too. It's kind of a funny scene if you think about it -- four old ladies in their 80's knitting their blankets, an extremely pregnant 30-something squished into a beach chair and two teenage boys all coming together for a very mediocre version of the classic Beatles song. But something about it is really really nice.

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

I think about how much I want to meet my baby and how eager I am to know if it's a boy or a girl and whether it has dark hair or blonde or none at all. I want to hold it and smell it and kiss it and cuddle it up in my arms. It's so close I can taste it. And some days I just want to scream I can't wait anymore!!!!!!

But something in the music clicks for me. I need to let it be. My baby will come to me when it's good and ready. And it's not up to me. It's not even about me. I am bringing another human being onto this earth. Yes, I am its mother and I created it and have carried it for the last nine months. But this being has a mind and an agenda all of its own. If it needs more time to cook, then there is probably a reason for it. And I need to let that be. What right do I have to rush it?

Later, I take a long walk on the beach and I really spend some time with myself. I take in the salty air and the crashing waves and the warm end-of-summer sun. I realize this may be my last solo walk on the beach for a very very long time. I enjoy it fully.

I'm still really eager and anxious and will jump for joy if my baby decides to show up tomorrow. But if it doesn't (and statistics say it probably won't) I will cherish these last moments of solo-time and allow my baby to take all the time that he/she needs.

I'm not saying this is easy for me. It isn't. I'm a control freak, and letting go of it is actually quite difficult. But I don't really have much of a choice here, do I?

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

maternity pics!

2008-08-25T07:28:00.001-07:00

36 weeks

My dad took these pictures yesterday at our annual family BBQ. This is the exact spot where we got married last June! Next year we'll be taking our family picture with the THREE of us!!

a wedding adventure

2008-08-18T05:39:00.000-07:00

35 weeks

My college roommate (and friend of 10+ years) got married this weekend!!

The wedding is eventful to say the least, and includes a trip to the ER. No, the emergency isn't for me (although I think people are wondering when they see the size of my belly!) But I win the prize of being the only one sober enough to drive -- oh the joys of being the pregnant girl. I think someone at the wedding actually uses the term "severely pregnant." I actually kind of like that.

It is quite the scene getting to the hospital. Picture a "severely" pregnant woman (who forgets her glasses and can't see and has no idea where she is going) behind the wheel next to her very drunk friend with a sprained ankle and their two 6+ feet tall husbands squeezed in the backseat with a freshly installed car seat stuck between them. I wish I got a photo of that!

Somehow we make it back to the wedding in time to hit the dance floor before it the night is over. I think our baby loves to boogie!

The next day my husband and I head out for a family day at the beach. Can I get any bigger???

bad news

2008-08-15T05:52:00.000-07:00

I hate having to write about bad news. But sometimes...well...sometimes news just is bad. So here goes. My friend who lost her baby due to a placental abruption in March (she was 32 weeks) just lost another baby yesterday to Trisomy 13. She was 12 weeks this time.

I can't stand it. I want to tell you that she doesn't deserve it. But who does deserve that? Nobody. So what gives? How does this happen??? She's already paid her dues. And then some!! She's been through more than most people ever go through. How is it possible that when you hit rick bottom you can still fall further??? Doesn't the universe have limits?

I don't have any answers. I'm just disgusted by the unfairness of life.

And I pray for her.

my mirror moment

2008-08-07T13:10:00.000-07:00

A woman I've never met tells me today that I will be a horrible mother. A comment like this to a woman who has already lost a baby and who couldn't be more in love with the one growing inside of her is not something you can just pass off.

Naturally, I defend myself as best I can and then walk away from the situation. It's not until a few hours later that I have my mirror moment. I take a good long hard look at myself and for the first time, I really question myself.

What if I'm not a good mother????

What if I can't provide enough milk?

What if I can't soothe him/her?

What if I don't know what to do?

What if I do the wrong thing?

My husband can't understand my tears. I've been pretty confident about motherhood throughout my pregnancy and throughout my whole life really. I am a nurturer by nature. I've been teaching young children for 10 years. I have a degree in child development. I've been waiting my whole life to be a mother.

As it turns out, though, none of that matters. I'm petrified.

Since the moment I discovered this baby inside of me, I've tried to give it everything. I've stayed away from caffeine, alcohol, deli meat and even my poor old grandmother's cooking (as well-intending as she is I did once find a band-aid in her fruit salad.) I've walked and swam consistently and gone to my pre-natal yoga class every week. I've eaten my fruits and vegetables. I've rested, put my feet up and taken all stress out of my life. I've read a million books, researched all the best products, and taken a class on infant care and CPR.

I've chosen a partner in life who is gentle and kind and who loves his child more than I've ever seen a man love anything.

I don't have the answers to the questions above. And no, I don't really know what it takes to be a good mother. As much as I've tried to prepare myself, I'm still going into this whole thing as blind as everyone else.

But here's what I do know. I love my baby.

And I didn't have to read anything or take judgement from anyone to learn how to do that.

baby shower!

2008-08-04T04:55:00.001-07:00

It was such a beautiful day of celebration. My mom, mother-in-law and sister-in-law (20 weeks pregnant herself!) planned a wonderful party and I loved every minute of it. And now I am having so much fun playing with all of my new toys. Ok, I know the gifts are not exactly for me but it sure was fun opening all of them! The only gift that has yet to arrive is the little guest of honor. And what a welcome it's already received.

I feel so blessed in so many ways.

watkins glenn falls

2008-07-29T09:53:00.000-07:00

We spent the weekend in Central New York visiting my husband's family. Here are some photos from a beautiful spot called Watkins Glenn. I loved it there!! (especially because we got a ride to the top and only had to climb the 800 steps down the falls!)

tough don't rub off

2008-07-24T11:41:00.001-07:00

My husband and I have a discussion the other day. Why does childbirth hurt so much? Why is it so painful? There must be a reason. And no, we don't think it has anything to do with Eve and an apple.

When I look back at my life and think about the experiences that have been most painful, I realize it is these moments that have shaped me. Pain has given me strength. Pride. Perspective. Character. So if this is going to be the most painful experience of them all, just think about how much I'll gain from it. And I'm not even talking about the baby. I'm just talking about the experience of childbirth itself.

And the most painful of pain followed by the most joyful of joy?!?! What a ride. No roller coaster could beat that.

Maybe the pain's purpose is to fully invest me. How could I endure all of that pain and then not love and care for that miracle more than I've ever loved or cared for anything before in my life. The pain makes sense to me. And I'm not scared of it. Don't get me wrong. I do respect that it's not for everybody. But believe it or not, I am actually looking forward to it.

A few years back I did a mountaineering trip in the High Sierra with Outward Bound. It was 22 days long and it was hard-core. We hiked over 100 miles and most of that was climbing straight up or climbing straight down. Everything about that trip was intense. I cried every day -- multiple times a day. The trip was a whole series of intense moments but there is one that has stuck with me all these years.

We had been climbing a 13,000-footer and were close to reaching the summit. The last part of the climb was technical and we needed to be roped in. We basically had to climb the face of a cliff to reach the top of the mountain. And I got stuck. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I just couldn't make my leg reach the next hold. It just wasn't possible. And every time I slipped, all of my weight would be caught in my left shoulder, which was the only part of me that felt securely connected to the mountain. The rest of me was a dangling useless mess. After 10 or 12 tries, my shoulder was completely pulled out of its socket. And there I was hanging off the top of a cliff -- exhausted beyond belief, pulsating with pain, crying my eyes out -- the final goal within my sight but out of my reach. I couldn't stand it. The instructor asked if I wanted to be let down. I remember that moment clearly. Do or die. Sink or swim. Now or never.

To this day I don't know how it happened. But I made it to the summit of that mountain. I broke down sobbing and hugged the ground under me. I did it. I survived.

Was I strong enough to achieve the impossible? Yes. I was. And what was my reward? An incredible view? The wind blowing in my face on the top of the world? A lunch of trail mix and crackers? A chunk of chocolate?

Yes. But there was more. I took away with me a strength I never knew I had. I learned to trust myself -- the deepest part of my being -- even when my body appeared to be failing. And I discovered that pain is temporary. And what lies just on the other side is always worth it.

We had a saying on that trip -- "tough don't rub off." It's a mantra I've spoken to myself a million times since. The pain goes away but the strength is yours to keep and use forever.

How does this relate to childbirth? Well, I don't know because I haven't experienced it yet. But I just have a feeling it might be like reaching the summit of that mountain. Only better.

more birth thoughts

2008-07-24T05:12:00.000-07:00

You know when you have one of those moments when you just know you've made the right decision? When your gut has been struggling through something and you come to a place where it suddenly just screams YES! I am in that place. I've decided to switch from my OB practice to a midwife.

If you asked me 8 months ago if I even knew the difference, I would have laughed it off. I had absolutely no interest in this topic whatsoever. As long as she can get this thing out of me, what do I care?

Turns out I care a lot. Because although a healthy baby is still the top priority and the ultimate goal here (and I have full confidence my OB could have delivered that) there really is a lot more to consider -- like being treated with warmth and respect and being given a voice during this process, and most importantly being given a voice during my labor and delivery.

It's only going to be the most important day of my life, right? Shouldn't I have a voice?

Anyway I could go on and on and give you all the details of this decision process but you get the idea. I've made the right choice and I'm happy.

32 and 32

2008-07-23T12:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my birthday! For once I feel right on track for my age. I spent most of my 20's feeling so far behind but somehow I've caught up. Thirty-two feels like the perfect age for motherhood.

me = 32 years

baby = 32 weeks

Yayyyyy for 32!!!

thoughts on birth

2008-07-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

31 weeks

In the beginning of this pregnancy, I was so focused on just staying pregnant. Terrified of enduring another miscarriage, I crawled along one day at a time, one appointment at a time, breathing a sigh of relief with every passing milestone. But I never actually considered the end result. BIRTH.

I find it funny that it never really crossed my mind. It seemed so far off, so irrelevant at the time. September seemed forever away, like maybe it would never really come.

But it's coming. I am in the last leg of my pregnancy and this thing is really in me. I can see it and feel it and I know that it is very much alive. And I'm just beginning to realize that I have to get it out!!!

There are so many childbirth stories and books and documentaries and shows on TLC. I've been spending my time studying diligently, my nose in a book or my eyes glued to the TV, as if this were the hugest final exam of my life. I suppose it is. Some of the stories scare me to death and other ones leave me feeling empowered and excited. But mostly I just feel confused and overwhelmed and unprepared.

Because how can I prepare for something I've never experienced? I can learn the facts but I can't ever know the experience until I have it for myself. It's like preparing for sex when you're a virgin. You can't. The only thing you can do is know that it will be different than anything you've ever experienced before.

So this I am open to. And what I do know is that I want to feel it. I want this experience. And I want it fully. Even with its pain, I want it. I want to feel what millions of women before me have also felt. I want to understand it on a level deeper than reading it or watching it. It is a rite of passage and I feel blessed that I have been given this opportunity to reach it. Completely blessed.

In my whole however many years of life, this may just be my biggest moment. And I don't want to miss it. Not any of it.

I knew a woman in grad school who had three grown children. She was not a particularly gorgeous woman, nor was she very outgoing or extraordinary really in any way. Simon Cowell may have called her "forgettable." But she was strong. And she had an inner confidence and beauty that struck me and stuck with me. She had delivered each of her children with no drugs or medical interventions. I remember her telling me (as I shook my head in awe and swore that she was crazy) that no pain could ever match that. She knew if she could get through the birth of her children, she could get through ANYTHING.

I don't know if I want a doula or a birthing ball or a labor tub.

But I know I want this.

more nursery pics

2008-07-13T10:07:00.001-07:00

Our nursery is coming along!! The shelf is a project I know my husband cares never to repeat again. As he puts it, "It sure was a project alright!"

But it was made

with love and that's all

that matters.

The photo frames are another project that take on a life of its own. I can't wait to fill that third frame!! Will this little one have Daddy's straight blonde locks or a black mop like mine? I guess we will have to wait and see!

4th of july babymoon

2008-07-05T16:12:00.001-07:00

Well, it's our last vacation as a family of two. We spend 4th of July weekend up in Burlington, VT, where I lived for 9 years before meeting my husband. It is a wonderful trip and we relish in the luxuries of our deluxe suite with its killer view, our daily naps, catching up with old friends, incredible sunsets, fireworks on the water, great food, frozen cocktails (virgin for me) and of course Ben & Jerry's ice cream! We even spend one morning hiking -- yes, 7 months pregnant and still hiking!! I should have written across my belly, "This baby climbed Mt. Philo!" Because even though it is our last official trip as a two-some, we very much feel the presence of our beautiful #3.

June 30

2008-06-30T07:07:00.000-07:00

My husband and I got married one year ago today. Funny how much can happen in one year. We created a life, celebrated a life, lost a life, mourned a life, created another life and celebrated once again. And we held onto each other through all of it. Living our vows.

My body has literally grown another person inside of it. As I look down at my belly, I laugh at the thought of fitting into my wedding gown. Or any of the cute dresses and lingerie I brought along on our honeymoon last summer. I remember climbing the mountains in Switzerland and drinking glass after glass of red wine in the villages. We were young and innocent, and we didn't have a care in the world.

Those days are behind us now, leaving only a faded trail of the sweet memory. We've grown (and not just my belly.) We've learned. We've experienced.

I tell my husband yesterday that we are no longer newlyweds. He agrees. We've lost that title.

But we are about to take on a new title. Young parents. Mommy. Daddy. Family. I've never been more excited. And I've never felt more blessed than to share this incredible adventure with the man I said "I do" to.

Because I still do.

Even more than I did then.

scrabble name game

2008-06-26T04:45:00.000-07:00

My husband and I decide to play Scrabble the other night. We joke that names are allowed this time, as long as they are baby names. This is funny because my husband likes to come up with pretty creative (completely made-up and ridiculous) baby names.

I get to go first and don't have the greatest letters to start. I am about to place the word "bent" on the board. I am getting ready to put down the last letter and I gasp. There on the board is "ben", one of our top boy names. Coincidence? Or a sign that this little booger is a boy???

Other words follow like "boy" and "toy" and "oreos." I am beginning to think the whole game is an outline of our future son's life. It is like a cross between a game of Scrabble and a session with a Quija board. A message from above. But then there are words that pop up like "gin" and "crap" and others I choose not to discuss ever again, including some female anatomy descriptors not suitable for young readers. Let's just say there's a reason this photo only shows a small part of the board.

Anyway it was an interesting game, and at the very least, I think we've decided on our boy name!!

nursery in progress

2008-06-24T18:12:00.001-07:00

28-week ultrasound

2008-06-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

Everything is great with the baby! It is so incredible to SEE it move and FEEL it move simultaneously. We get to see its brain and its heart and all of its tiny little fingers and toes. And yes, it is actually looking at us in the second picture -- eyes open!! We don't see any extra boy parts but I don't think we'd know it if we did! I lay back on the table and my husband squeezes my hand. It is a moment of pure joy and pride. Proud of our child. There is no better feeling.

June 17

2008-06-17T13:40:00.000-07:00

A date I used to think was unimaginably far away. A date I used to dream about. A date our families dreamt about too. June 17 was the date our first baby was due to arrive.

And here it is. Today. And it is an extremely ordinary, regular, boring day. No hospitals. No doctors. No pushing. No visitors. No tiny little life being placed on my chest. No tears of joy. The baby inside of me still has 3 months to cook.

I feel...well...weird about it. I thought I might feel sad. But actually I don't. I don't feel sad at all. I feel weird.

And I feel incredibly grateful. Obviously I never chose to have a miscarriage. It was one of the most devastating experiences of my life. And I hated every second of having to go through it. I loved that baby with all of my heart and saying good-bye to it absolutely broke me.

But here's the other side. I am over-the-moon in love with the baby growing inside of me right now. And I just can't imagine this person not existing. This person who kicks me every morning at 4am and every time I eat cake and every time my husband sings to my belly and right now this minute in fact. Yes, it is kicking me right now this minute even as I type. Saying, "Hi, Mom. I'm in here." If I were having a baby today, this other little life inside of me would never have existed. And I just can't fathom that.

Tonight we are going to honor the one we lost. When I found out I was pregnant the first time, my husband was away. Bursting with excitement, I went to the grocery store and bought a blue balloon and a pink balloon to surprise him with. The pink balloon flew off in the parking lot and I had to go back inside to get a new one. We both felt that that baby was a girl, and that the fly-away balloon was some sort of premonition to the miscarriage. That baby simply belonged in heaven.

So today I bought a new pink balloon. And my husband and I will set it free in our backyard tonight. Maybe it will fly all the way to our angel in heaven.

I don't think I will cry any tears today. I am not mourning. I am remembering. And I feel blessed that we were given this little angel, whose stay with us may have been short, but whose lessons are life-long. She allowed us to grow and learn and appreciate. And I will forever be grateful for her and forever grateful for the experience. All of it.

still growing

2008-06-09T16:32:00.000-07:00

25+ weeks

I know I've been slacking about writing lately. I am finishing up the school year, and unfortunately writing report cards has taken over. And we are in the middle of a heat wave. Today's high is 99, which is more like 110 in my classroom, which is more like 115 when you're pregnant. I can barely move, never mind type. I guess this is a good test of what lies ahead for me this summer. Oh boy...

There's another reason I haven't written. My sister-in-law is having some complications with her pregnancy. I won't get into it here because this is my blog, not hers, and I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate me sharing her personal news with the world. But I'll tell you this. It doesn't sound great. I'm scared for her. Scared for my brother. And scared for my tiny little niece or nephew whom I haven't yet met.

I hate hearing scary pregnancy stories. I always feel for the woman. And I always feel for her husband too. Because I know what it's like to get bad news. And I know what it's like to live in limbo. And I wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

But it's different when it's your own family. Your own blood. The same brother I've known my whole life. The same sister-in-law that listened to my hysteria on that fateful day when I couldn't reach my husband. The same sister-in-law who came over after my d&c and brought me soup and sat with me all day when I was all alone.

That tiny little baby inside of her has a place in my heart already. I already have big dreams for it. It is my baby's cousin. And I already love it.

I would do anything to make this alright for them. But the only thing I really can do is pray. So I do.

And that's really all I have to say for now.

so tempted

2008-05-24T13:53:00.000-07:00

23 weeks

I am tempted to cheat on my husband the other day. It happens at the dermatologist's office of all places. I am sitting up there on the table waiting for my doctor to come in for my annual mole check (what fun) when the computer screen to my left catches my eye. My name is in bold dancing across the top of the screen. It is then that I realize that what follows is not just my dermatology records -- it is all of my medical records. Including my OB records. Including my 18-week ultrasound results. Including the sex of my baby, still unknown to me. One click away.

I want desperately to hop off the table and get my hands on that mouse. One click away. But what if my doctor walks in? I know she'll be here any minute. The thought of getting caught tampering with her computer (in a johnny none-the-less) makes me feel like a criminal. So I give up on my fantasy and sit on my hands and wait. One click away.

My doctor walks in and asks me how the pregnancy's going and tells me I look great. We all know what question follows that. Do you know what you're having?

And I give her the answer I give everyone. No, my husband won't let me find out. Ha ha.

But instead of the usual responses that come next -- Oh, surprises are so fun! or Wow, you must have some real willpower! -- my doctor simply says:

Well I can tell you right now. Your husband will never know. It'll be our little secret.

I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline. Oh my gosh! I could find out today!! Right now!!! I am overcome by giddiness. The temptation is insane. I want to scream.

I take a deep breath, throw my head back and bite my lip. My doctor is standing there smiling wide at me, ready and willing, actually begging to be my partner in crime.

But...I can't do it. I let out a long sigh and tell her I just can't. I can't do this to my husband. We made an agreement. A promise. A vow. And any vow with my husband, no matter how big or small, is just as scared as our "I do's". I can't betray his trust in me. What kind of wife would I be?

And anyway do I really want the person I share this life-changing exhilarating moment with to be the lady who prescribes my zit cream???

I make it through this moment of sheer desire and temptation without my impulsivity getting the best of me. I come out clean. In the 3 years I've known my husband, this is the closest I've ever come to cheating. I think this is proof enough that I never will. I must say I am pretty proud of myself.

But still, it's a good thing I don't have another appointment with my dermatologist until after the baby is born.

baby's bedding

2008-05-24T13:51:00.001-07:00

the first kicks

2008-05-14T15:03:00.001-07:00

I've been feeling little flutters for a few weeks now but I wasn't completely sure if they were just a phigmant of my imagination or if they were really truly happening. What if I was just willing them to happen because I wanted to feel them so badly.

But two nights ago I reach a real milestone. It is bedtime and my husband is singing to my belly once again. Have I mentioned yet how completely obsessed he is with my growing belly??? Anyway he starts singing and I feel something. Or at least I think I do. So I place his hand over my belly and the next thing I know he is gasping and laughing and sitting straight up in bed saying over and over and over again, "I feel it! I feel it!" This happens 20 or so more times and his expression never loses that giant wide-eyed grin. It's one of the most incredible things I've ever shared with him.

I think this little baby loves daddy!!

nursery furniture

2008-05-11T13:22:00.000-07:00

We bought these two pieces today. I love them!

guess who else is pregnant?

2008-05-08T13:55:00.000-07:00

...my sister-in-law!!! I couldn't be more excited! First and foremost I am thrilled for her and for my brother. They have 2 boys already and have been looking forward to expanding their family. And I can't wait to have another little niece or nephew! The best part is that they live in the next town over and I see them all the time. Our kids will even go to the same middle school and high school. I've known my sister-in-law for about 15 years and she is probably the closest thing to a sister I'll ever have. AND WE ARE HAVING BABIES TOGETHER!!!! What could be better than that?!?! Yayyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!

i remember the other side

2008-05-05T13:51:00.001-07:00

I run into Karen in the bathroom today. I cringe every time I run into her. It's not that I don't like Karen. It's actually that I really do. She is my colleague who has lost 3 babies. I try to suck my belly back in an inch or two. But there it is, standing proud and strong, suddenly 10 times bigger than it just was, completely unsuckable, taking up all the space between us like a giant elephant in the room.

Karen smiles and says hello and I say hello back. There's not much more to say. But beneath her smile I see the pain. I know her pain. I know what it's like to run into a belly like mine when your own belly is filled with nothing but loss. I know what it's like to hate my big belly. I know what it's like to hate me. And I don't blame her for it.

I expect my friend Laurie to hate me too. She is the one who recently lost her baby at 31 weeks. But she surprises me today. I know her due date is approaching and I've been racking my brain on how to handle it. Send her flowers? A card? A phone call? I want to do something to let her know I'm thinking of her but there never seems to be a right thing to do. So I send her an email and I just tell her I'm thinking of her. When in doubt, go simple.

Get this. She emails me back and asks when my baby shower is. She says she really wants to come. This, of course, means the world to me. Not so much for my own benefit but because it's proof that my friend really is going to be ok. I had been debating about whether or not to put her on the list. How could I possibly throw my celebration in her face like that after all that she's been through? And then here she is, asking to be invited. Stronger than I had given her credit for. Possibly still hating me but big enough to swallow it down. And in reality, not really hating me at all.

Losing something does a lot of things to a person. Creating "bigness" seems to be one of them.

babymoon

2008-04-29T13:29:00.001-07:00

It is the most wonderful vacation. We fly out to San Jose, CA and then spend a few days driving down the coast to San Diego. We do everything from swim in the ocean to camp among the Redwoods (yes, in a tent!) and eat hot dogs on a stick to watch sea lions and seals in their natural habitat to visit with friends and family in LA to attend a fancy weekend-long destination wedding in La Jolla. Mostly we enjoy our last vacation as a family of 2 and have fun celebrating the baby growing inside of me (who by the way is getting bigger and bigger by the day!)

18 week ultrasound

2008-04-20T16:51:00.001-07:00

Our baby is perfect -- 10 little fingers and 10 little toes and a strong beautiful heartbeat. We get to see it all. The only thing we don't see is the "region." I mean to try to sneak a peak but I am so focused on that beautiful beating heart, my eyes don't get there quick enough and the technician quickly zooms away. My gut has been saying girl all along but for some reason, I'm starting to think boy. When I look at this picture, I just see a "he." Who knows? What do you think?

I do have one minor problem. Apparently the placenta is a little too close to my cervix (low-lying placenta) which could potentially turn into placenta previa. She assures us that 99% of the time, the problem corrects itself. And in the worst case scenerio I would have to deliver via c-section. It's not what I've been envisioning, but I can live with it. As long as our baby is ok, I can live with anything else.

The good news is I get to have another ultrasound at 28 weeks to see if the problem has corrected itself. I won't complain about that!

for my husband

2008-04-18T01:30:00.000-07:00

Today is our 18-week ultrasound. It is 4:30am and I've given up on trying to sleep. I am excited, nervous, anxious -- all of the above. I just can't wait to see our little one again and be told again that everything looks perfect. We could be finding out the sex of our baby today, but we've decided not to. Ok, ok, my husband has decided not to and I have reluctantly agreed. If you knew me, you'd be surprised. I am a planner to the nth degree. And patience with waiting is not really my thing.

But this is my gift to my husband.

My husband is probably the most easy-going, agreeable person I have ever known (not that we don't have our occasional arguments here and there over little things.) But with the big things, I usually get my way. It's not that he's not a push-over. It's just that he doesn't usually have strong opinions about things. He's pretty content no matter what.

Let's take our wedding for example. It didn't matter to him whether we got married on the beach or on the moon. He didn't care what colors or flowers or food I picked out or what the invitations looked like. Every panicked question I asked him was answered with, whatever you want, honey. As you can imagine, this completely irked me. Can't you just pretend to be interested??? But the truth is, the wedding details bored him to death. The only thing he really cared about was marrying me.

I can't really blame him for that.

This whole baby thing is an entirely different experience, though. He is reading the pregnancy books and watching A Baby Story on TLC right along with me, tearing up each time the baby is born. He kisses my belly every chance he gets and whips out our home doppler to hear the heartbeat just as much as I do. He tells me every single day just how excited he is. He is just as in love with our baby as I am.

And I really do think he spends some of his spare time day-dreaming about his big moment. It goes something like this -- one last push and the doctor calls out, It's a boy/girl!!!! and he and I hug and cry and hold our new tiny miracle in our arms. And then he runs out to the waiting room and shouts to our parents the type of grandchild that just entered their world. And everybody cheers and screams and cries and hugs.

It is his biggest moment and I can't help tearing up every time I think about it too. His giddiness about it makes me fall in love with him all over again. So this gift is one I am honored to give him.

Even if it means I have to suck it up and wait.

my confession

2008-04-16T15:34:00.000-07:00

We are currently interviewing candidates for my teaching position for next year. I will be taking the whole year off. My principal and my colleagues keep assuring me that yes, I am coming back in a year and I keep agreeing. Or at least I'm not disagreeing. Not yet anyway.

The candidates are all eager and enthusiastic and really really want this job. I can't help but answer each of the questions in my own head as I listen to these young girls spout out everything they know about teaching. There is one question that hits my core every time.

What is the difference between a good teacher and a great teacher?

I remember answering this question at my own interview here 5 years ago. I remember being enthusiastic and eager and really really wanting this job too. I was just like these girls. I knew how to be great. I had already taught for 5 years and was ready to take on 50 more.

But somewhere along the way I lost my ummph. Did my interests change? Am I just burnt out? Has this year of pregnancy/miscarriage/pregnancy been too much of an emotional distraction? Or I am just not one of those people who are meant to have the same job forever and ever?

I am a good teacher, I will admit that. My students have all learned how to read and write and add and subtract. And they all love school and I'm pretty sure they all like me. But am I a great teacher? I'd like to think I used to be. But now, instead of wanting to do better and improve and keep learning, I find myself watching the clock just wanting the lesson to be over. And at 3:00, instead of beginning my planning for the next day, there I am closing my plan book, turning out the lights and heading home. Day after day.

My heart just isn't in it.

I have definite moments of guilt. I miss feeling passionate about my job. Mostly, though, I am relieved. I have my golden ticket out. And it's a ticket nobody would question either. I can follow my gut and I don't have be a fake and fool everyone anymore. I can be true to myself. Ten years is something to be proud of anyway. And I am.

It's not that I'm not done being great either. It's just that I'm ready to put my passion and greatness towards something new.

Motherhood.

frequent pit stops?

2008-04-09T16:04:00.000-07:00

17 weeks

I decided to count today my number of trips to the bathroom during my work day. Seven. That's right -- seven! This isn't an easy feat when you have a class of first graders at your hands. Not to mention that the one adult bathroom in my school is on the complete opposite side of the building. At least I'm getting some exercise though.

And each time I hit the bathroom, I, of course, spend some thorough time scrubbing the kid germs off my hands with lots of soap. And during this little routine, I find myself mesmerized by the image looking back at me in the mirror.

I'm really not that vain. Seriously. It's not even that I'm looking at myself really. My eyes are completely fixated on the belly. First I look straight on and then I turn and catch the profile. It's just that I can't believe that I am actually pregnant. Still. It seems so unreal.

I am standing here by myself, yet right there in the mirror there are two of me. There is me. And then there is the tiny version of me, living inside that bulge of my belly. A tiny version of my husband. I am actually carrying a version of my husband inside of me. It's more miracle than I ever really stopped to comprehend.

Yet the true miracle is that inside that growing bump is a person separate from either one of us. It is a person all on its own. It has parts of me and parts of my husband but it has a heart that beats separate from ours. A whole new person. A person with the potential to be anyone. It's more miracle than I can fully take in and it catches me by wondrous surprise every time sneak a glimpse.

So now you know why I really make so many visits to the bathroom.

a toddler's intuition?

2008-04-06T06:34:00.000-07:00

I have another nephew, Mason. He is Carter's little brother and just turned 2 a few weeks ago. He is the sweetest thing. Last night is Carter's birthday party and my brother drops Mason off at our house for a few hours. My best friend comes over with her two little boys and we have a pizza playdate. (Mason is the little guy on the left.)

Out of the blue Mason runs over to me, lifts up my shirt, points to my belly and says, "baby!" (this from a boy who only has about 20-30 words in his expressive vocabulary as of yet.) This wouldn't be so weird except that nobody has told him yet that there's a baby in my belly.

So how does he know? I can't imagine a two-year-old being observant enough to notice the subtle changes in my body. I know his parents haven't told him. And it's possible Carter is beginning to have his suspicions, but if you read my post from a few weeks ago, he clearly has more interest in goldfish than he does in babies. I can guarantee you, it's just not something he would have discussed with his little brother.

So I am convinced Mason has a sixth sense about babies. Maybe all toddlers and babies do. Maybe they can smell a fetus the way dogs can scent out one of their own. It's a mystery I guess. But I find it beautiful.

i look pregnant!

2008-03-30T06:21:00.001-07:00

15 weeks

This is our first big night out in a long time. We head to the fancy schmancy country club for the big school auction, which translates to a huge drunk-fest-money-tossing-party for the parents (which makes it a really fun event for the teachers.) I get a few "you look so cute" comments and plenty of "congratulations!"

My biggest insult tonight, though, is somebody telling me I don't look pregnant yet. Are you serious??? My belly certainly did not protrude like that a few months ago!

Keep growing baby!!

carter quote

2008-03-27T15:46:00.000-07:00

This will be quick. Carter is my nephew and he will be 5 next week. We haven't yet told him specifically that there is a baby in my belly but I've thrown little hints around to test out his reaction. Last week I was driving him somewhere in my car and I said, "Wouldn't it be fun if we had a baby at our house for you to play with?"

His answer: "Na, you might as well just get a pet...like a fish."

yucky poo-poos

2008-03-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

Yucky poo-poos is a phrase I invent to describe my morning sickness. I am feeling a trillion times better but I still have moments when the yucky poo-poos creep themselves back in. They usually come at night and usually when I am especially exhausted, either physically or emotionally. Today is one of those days.

I hear from Laurie today. Her email both brightens and darkens my day all at once. I am so relieved to hear from her. She is going to survive this.

She had a placental abruption which means the placenta detached from the uterus, cutting off the oxygen supply to her baby. By the time they got him out by c-section, he had already passed away. He was a boy. They named him Andrew Eugene (Eugene after his father.) He looked just like his big brother, James. She was able to get his footprints and keep some of his hair. The doctors say that if he had lived, he would have been brain-dead. The fact that he didn't have a life of suffering is the only thing that brings her any peace.

I am tortured by the reality of her nightmare. He was a real person, with real hair and real little feet. He had a name.

My past, present and future come together in a bare moment of grief. The wounds from my own loss are barely healed and I feel them tearing back open. I remember that shock. I remember that darkness. The hopelessness. The bare-boned loneliness. It's still raw in me.

The thought of my good friend experiencing these feelings right now this very moment (feelings even bigger than I can relate to) brings fresh tears to my eyes. Nobody deserves this. I hate this for her. I hate it.

And I think about the baby growing inside of me. I thought after the first trimester I could graduate to safety. Turns out there is no safety. You just never know. My baby's future and my future and my husband's future are all just as uncertain. Life has its own plan we have no control.

My friend who calls to grieve with me over Laurie's loss is Amy. She is a generation older than us and Laurie and I call her Auntie Amy. We love her. She's the kind of "auntie" whose lap you just want to lie your head on and tell all your problems to. This picture was taken of the three of us (with my husband) at my wedding last summer. I ask her on the phone how her chemo treatments are going. She tells me (in her always happy-positive tone) that the cancer has spread to her bones. She doesn't tell me much more but I know this is not a good thing.

Like I said, life has a plan of its own. And we have to accept all of it. We have no other choice.

It's kind of like accepting the yucky poo-poos, only on a much larger scale.

my growing belly

2008-03-17T15:11:00.001-07:00

Let me preface this by saying that I have never posted pictures of my naked stomach on the internet before and I'm not exactly in love yet with my growing curves. Let's just say I am still working on getting used to it.

The first two pictures are actually from my 1st pregnancy. Today was the first time I got around to asking my husband to take one this time around.

And I am SHOCKED at how much my body has changed. I know I've been popping out of my clothes but I just didn't know it was this obvious. I just look fat! And my boobs are ginormous!!!!

4 weeks
good-bye flat tummy

8 weeks
hello bloat

14 weeks
belly (and everything else) is growing!

telling my students

2008-03-15T05:41:00.000-07:00

I wasn't planning to tell them so soon. But my boss slipped at a parent meeting and said that I would not be here next year. I'm certainly not retiring at age 31 and I know these parents are quick enough to put 2 and 2 together. I teach in a small neighborhood school where gossip travels faster than the speed of light. And I knew I did not want to be the subject of such rumors. So I decided to just come clean.

The timing of this is nothing less than ironic, given what's happened this week to my friend, Laurie. I feel funny about celebrating at such a sorrowful time. I feel a heavy burden of guilt and a strange question of betrayal.

On top of that, I feel worry. And I feel a responsibility to keep my students innocent. And now I know -- really know -- that there are no guarantees. This could all be taken away in an instant. I don't expect that to happen but the possibility lingers in the back of my head and in the pit of my stomach. This whole business is risky. And it scares me.

But I can't stay in hiding for 9 months. And I can't deny the joy of this pregnancy. I'm sure Laurie doesn't regret celebrating the 7 months she had with her child. I know I deserve to celebrate this and I know my baby deserves to be celebrated. My students deserve to share this joy as well.

So I tell them. We play "Mystery Message" which is much like Hangman or Wheel of Fortune, and they jump up and down for joy when the message is solved. It is a moment I wish I could box up and save forever. A little boy named Charlie stands up and yells out, "Oh my god! You're going to be a full-grown MOTHER!!!!"

Then come the questions (I wish I had done this on video!):

Will it have a penis?
Are you and your husband going to be the mom and dad?
How big is it?
How did you know it was in there?
When did you find out?
Why didn't you tell us right away?
Is it a boy or a girl?
When is it coming out?
Will we wake it up if we get too loud and wild?
Can you eat junk food? Candy bars?
Can you feel it kicking you?
Will you adopt it or keep it? (she meant put it up for adoption)
If it's waving at you in the picture, how could it see through your belly?

And here are my favorites:

If you eat a shirt, will it go onto the baby?
Will they cut you open or will it come out your butt?

It is a good day and I don't regret telling. I am still heartbroken for Laurie, though. That won't change. But I realize I can feel heartbroken and hopeful all at the same time. I am sad and happy and scared and relieved. All at once. And I know that celebrating my pregnancy (in the privacy of my own life) does not in any way disrespect Laurie's loss or make the hurt I feel for her any less.

I probably won't ever celebrate with Laurie. But in some ways, I think honoring the baby growing inside of me honors the baby she lost even more.

when bad things happen to good people

2008-03-11T16:30:00.001-07:00

Sometimes there simply is no answer to the question why.

My friend, Laurie, and her husband, Gene, are good people. They are generous and warm and both have the beautiful gift of making people laugh. You almost can't not laugh when you are around them.

But I don't think they are doing any laughing today.

I see an email in my inbox today from Laurie. I haven't talked to her in a few weeks and am excited to hear from her. She is about 31 weeks pregnant and due in May. I know this because she was exactly 4 weeks ahead of my first pregnancy and I haven't stopped counting. She was actually one of the very first people I told about my first pregnancy. I sent her a picture of my positive pee stick and asked her if this was a good sign. She wrote back immediately -- we were going to have babies together!!!!!!!!

Six weeks later I lost that pregnancy. It was hard for me to talk to her. It was hard for me to talk to anyone. Especially anyone who was pregnant. She gave me some space and we didn't talk at all for a month or two. When I found out I was pregnant again in January, my husband and I went to Vermont. My husband went snowboarding with Gene and I visited Laurie. She was showing and glowing and happy. And so was I. We were going to have babies together after all.

But now it turns out we're not. The message in my inbox is not from Laurie. It is from her husband. She had some complications this morning with her pregnancy and he brought her to the hospital. She had to have an emergency c-section. The baby did not survive.

My heart drops. I am devastated for them. How does this happen? Why?

I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to lose a baby at 31 weeks -- to feel it move inside of me and show my belly off to the world and decorate a nursery and buy little tiny baby clothes. And then have it all taken away. How does this happen?

I know there is no answer but I can't stop asking

I can't put myself in her shoes and I will never pretend to understand what she is going through. But I can relate to parts of it. I know what it's like to resent all pregnant women. I remember it like it was yesterday. You want to be happy for the pregnant people around you but you can't help feel that jab every time you even hear the word pregnant.

And now I'm one of them. I'm the reminder of all that she's lost. I'm that bittersweet slap in the face. Suddenly the tables are turned and I realize neither side is very pretty.

I don't have much more to say. My heart breaks for my friend and for her family. And I will never understand it.

12 weeks!

2008-03-08T11:17:00.000-08:00

What a milestone! Our appointment yesterday is wonderful. Of course I am nervous and the ultra-sound tech immediately points out the heartbeat. 167 and strong! The baby is upside-down and sleeping at first. The tech pushes on my belly a little bit and wallah -- the baby is awake! It flips over and starts swimming around all over the place. And it keeps waving at us. Yes, those are its tiny little fingers in the air. So of course I wave right back! My husband and I are glued to the screen and we are both smiling ear to ear. She takes all the measurements and tells us the everything looks perfect! Music to my ears.

Later I ask my doctor our chances of a miscarriage now and her exact words are, "very very unlikely." More music.

Enough music, in fact, that I've been dancing ever since.

cat is out of the bag

2008-03-03T16:00:00.000-08:00

Hello world, I AM PREGNANT!!!!!!! And it's no secret anymore. Here is the email I send out at work today:

Hi!
I know some of you are getting suspicious so before the rumors start flying -- I am not just getting fat and I have not had a chronic stomach bug for the last month and a half. I am excited to let you know that I am about 12 weeks pregnant and due in September. I am planning on taking next year off, although I promise to be back to visit with the baby. I have not yet told the kids or parents but I plan to probably before conferences. Thanks for keeping it quiet until then.

The responses start coming in immediately. I am overwhelmed by the all joy I feel surrounding me. I feel so blessed to work with such wonderful and supportive colleagues.

Yesssssss! I am so happy for you and Phil. You will be wonderful parents. I'll keep it a secret! D

Such happy news...congratulations!
-Beth

At first I was worried about you because you were looking pekid and low energy, then I started to get suspicious because you were back to looking really happy and bright - so I'm so glad to hear this news! You must be thrilled! Your secret is safe and many, many good wishes.
Best,
Sharon

I have tears in my eyes! I'm sooo happy for you.
Karen G.

Yipee! Congratulations!
You are going to be a fantastic mother!
Love,
Alison

Andra!!! Mazel Tov. That's wonderful news and I wish you all the very best!! It's a pleasure to be involved in planning showers for you...bridal and babies and more, oh my! We'll miss you next year (you are so lucky to be able to give that 'gift' to your new baby) and look forward to your return. You're a GREAT teacher and of course, you'll be a terrific MOMMY! Lots of luck and happiness! Bonnie

There are a bunch more but you get the gist of it. There is also a congratulations in my inbox from Karen. I've mentioned her before. I am told in confidence last week by another teacher that she just lost her third baby. I am devastated for her. I really worry about how the news will feel to her. I lose sleep over it. The last thing I want to do was cause her any more pain. But I also know in my gut it is time to spill the beans. I cannot hold it in any longer. Literally.

I am glad I do it the way I do. There is no big production thrown in her face. I respond to her email and thank her and let her know I am thinking of her and that I hope her journey leads to a beautiful light at the end of the tunnel. What more can I say.

Because that's really all I know. And I know it about every woman struggling with a miscarriage who happens to be reading this. I know how dark the tunnel is and I know how scary the turns can be. I can't tell you how long the tunnel will be. But what I can tell you is that there is a light at the end of it. This I can promise you. So hold on tight to whoever is riding along with you and just keep moving forward. It's really the only way to go.

some people

2008-02-27T15:50:00.000-08:00

11 weeks

For weeks I've been in hiding -- avoiding my co-workers and staying far far away from the Teacher's Room, a staff hang-out full of food and smells and dirty dishes and loud social conversation. I've been sitting at my desk trying to choke down a few saltines, holding my breath if I have to pass the cafeteria and counting the minutes until I can go home and sleep.

But I have turned a morning sickness corner and my energy and appetite are coming back from the dead. (Yayyyy!!!!!) Yesterday I make my return to the Teacher's Room. I am actually feeling social and enjoying my 15-minute break. I am chatting with people I haven't spoken a word to in weeks when suddenly the woman sitting next to me turns to me and says, "By the way, congratulations!"

Very nice of her. Only I have not yet offered an announcement worthy of any type of congratulatory remark.

My face turns to stone and I quickly respond under my breath with, "It's not public yet," to which she replies, "I know. But you are."

What?!?!?! How does she know? Did she overhear something? Did she notice how green I was for weeks? Or am I already showing at 11 weeks?!?!?! I am mortified!! I make a vow to myself never to make eye contact with this woman again (which is fine with me since she's not my favorite to begin with) and I stand up and walk back to my classroom with fire under my skin. If anyone else heard her, they have enough common sense to keep it to themselves.

Once I get past her ridiculous inappropriateness, I make a decision. It's time to tell. I was planning to wait until after my ultra-sound next Friday but I suddenly don't feel like waiting anymore. I like my workplace and I like my staff and I know they will be jumping-for-joy happy for me. I don't want my news to be spread with a rumor flying around behind my back. I want to be the one to share it. I've at least earned that.

So Monday is the day.

I think.

sleeping through the first tri

2008-02-24T14:25:00.001-08:00

10 1/2 weeks

If you're wondering where I've been and why I haven't been writing, well here's your answer. In bed. I've been sleeping about 10-12 hours at night and taking a 2+ hour nap every afternoon. And I'm still exhausted!!!! And not just a little tired. I am the all-nighter-I-haven't-slept-in-weeks kind of exhausted. Thank goodness for school vacation this week. It's been my heaven. But tomorrow is back to work for me, and I must say I am dreading it.

But as my husband puts it, it's one day closer to meeting our baby. Or at least one day closer to our next milestone. We have our 12-week ultra-sound scheduled for March 7 and I am counting the days.

That's it for now. I love sleeping. Good-night.

baby dream

2008-02-20T06:57:00.000-08:00

My dream last night is vivid and clear. I have just had a baby. And it's a girl! She has straight golden brown hair and Irish coloring just like her father. She does not look like a newborn, though. She is older and bigger. She is heavy and it takes effort to lift her. But she is beautiful and happy and I love her.

I have no diapers and no clothes for her, though. So she spends the night with my friends who just had a baby of their own. We live in some sort of dorm and they are just down the hall. I head over in the morning to change her diaper and the two babies have already been changed by my friend's husband and are playing together.

I bring my daughter back home and invite my mother and mother-in-law over to meet her. She comes down the hall waving to her grandmothers! I head to Target to buy diapers and clothes and am overwhelmed by the number of diaper choices. I am standing in the aisle trying to understand why I can't remember her birth and whether or not I breast-fed immediately after.

I wake up to and roll over to face my husband and say, "honey, we're having a girl!!!!"

I'm 50% sure that I'm right.

our baby waves at us!

2008-02-15T15:16:00.000-08:00

It is the most magical moment. We actually see its tiny little foot and its tiny little hand. And it is waving at us! All I can do is smile and laugh and smile some more. There is a real little person growing inside of me. And it is alive and moving. I hear the ultra-sound technician use the term "strong fetal heartrate" and it is music to my ears. I know that 179 is a very good number for 9 weeks. And did I mention the baby is measuring ahead two days. Now that is a first!!

The nurse tells us that the chances of a miscarriage at this point are very minuscule. Of course it's never 100%. But her confidence in our baby brings me confidence.

I am confident enough to slip this picture in a valentine card and send it off to my parents and grandparents immediately. This is how we tell them the news. They, of course, are over the moon.

And so are we!

8 weeks

2008-02-09T05:57:00.000-08:00

8 weeks 1 day actually.

This is a milestone for us. Last time our first ultra-sound is at 8 weeks and we receive our devastating news. It's another whole week before the pregnancy actually ends, but 8 weeks marks the big turning point. It is the end of my pregnancy innocence. The end of my dream.

I have never been 8 weeks 1 day pregnant and still hopeful.

Until today, that is.

why i really want this baby

2008-02-06T14:10:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting here watching Oprah (as I do every day) and the topic being discussed is "The Secret" and the laws of attraction. Ask the universe for what you want and you shall receive.

But there are two ways of asking. You can ask from your "shallow existence" or you can ask from your "core of peace". Your shallow existence comes from your fear and neediness. And brings you nothing but more fear. Needing something is not going to bring it to you.

As I'm hearing this, something inside me clicks. Has my request for this baby been coming out of my shallows? Have I been wanting it so badly just because I am too terrified to lose another one? Have I been praying to God out of fear?

This isn't the way I want to ask.

Asking from my core of peace takes a lot more strength and a lot more thought. Why do I really want this baby? It's not really because I need it. And it's not really because I am scared of the alternative. There is something so much bigger to my desire.

What I really want is opportunity. I want the opportunity to teach life to another. I have been a teacher all my life. Officially it's been 10 years. But even before that, I taught swimming lessons. And before that, I babysat. And before that, I played in my room for hours alone teaching my dolls how to read. Teaching is something I've always done. I've been training for this ultimate job all my life. And I am ready.

I want the opportunity to do it for real and to do it forever with my own child. I want to teach generosity. I want to teach fun. I want to teach passion. I want to teach kindness. I want to teach determination. I want to teach honesty. I want to teach compassion. I want to teach love.

I want to teach life.

So universe, there it is. My official request for a healthy sticky baby. I am putting the fear aside and trusting now that it will come.

be careful what you wish for

2008-02-03T09:01:00.000-08:00

I know I wished for every pregnancy symptom in the book. Well, I got them. The all day morning sickness is unbearable. Imagine the worse hangover you've ever had. Now imagine it day after day after day with no end in sight.

I've barely gotten out of bed all weekend. My poor husband has been doing everything for me -- laundry, groceries, even opening the refridgerator for me (I can't do it without holding my breath and turning my head away.) But now he is gone for four days and I'm wondering how on earth I am going to take care of myself, never mind go to work tomorrow.

The worse part is that I feel so guilty not loving this. I know I am blessed to be pregnant again. I still thank God every single day. But here's my confession. I don't like feeling like this. In fact I hate it. I despise it. I can't believe that this torture could go on for weeks. At least with a hangover you know it's just a one-day deal. I feel trapped in a black hole of nausea.

Still, though, I wouldn't trade it away. I keep thinking about that little heart beating inside of me. Reminding myself that I am growing a person. And I know this horrible sickness is a sign that this baby is healthy. No, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

why call it morning sickness

2008-01-31T15:06:00.000-08:00

7 weeks

Why do they call it morning sickness when it lasts all day? Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I love having morning/noon/night sickness. It makes me feel actually pregnant and reassures me that somebody in there is making him or herself very comfortable. I welcome it with open arms. I am thrilled to be sick.

But going on with my regular scheduled programing of life has been challenging to say the least. Let's start with work. I don't have an office job. I can't be late. I can't just put my head down on my desk for a minute. And I can't run to the bathroom on a whim. I am a first grade teacher, responsible for 22 wild six-year-olds. And they are relentless.

First graders are smelly, loud, sticky and gross. They zap your energy and are needy of your attention at all times. And they don't leave you alone. Ever.

A few teachers are catching on. I'm ok with it. I simply don't have any energy left over to fake feeling good. If they care enough about me to notice how "not myself" I've been looking, I guess they deserve the truth. So when one of them asks me straight up today if I am pregnant again, I tell her yes.

And it actually feels good to say it.

Tomorrow night is bowling night with the staff. I'm on the social committee that's planned the event. But I just don't know if I can do it. I hate missing it. I missed the last big night out due to my miscarriage. Well at least this time I like my reason a lot better. I'm sure it won't be the first sacrifice I make for this baby.

And in that light, I'm happy to make it.

the most beautiful flicker

2008-01-28T14:55:00.001-08:00

I never knew a tiny flickering light could be so beautiful. But it is. This tiny flicker is the new heart beating inside of me. And I am instantly in love.

The baby is measuring right on target. It has a heart rate of 126bpm. My anxiety quickly turns to relief and then to pure happiness as I see the numbers on the screen. I am so grateful I've done my homework. I've studied the subject to ad nauseam (as any OCD pregnant woman would) so I know what numbers to look for and I know these are good ones. My knowledge is my power. And today I am strong.

After the high of my appointment wears off, the anxiety settles back in a bit. We still have a long road ahead of us before we are in the clear. (Are we ever really in the clear?) I am already getting nervous for our next appointment.

So instead of trying to force myself to remain calm, I decide to give myself permission to worry. But here's the deal. I only get 15 minutes of worry time each day. If I find myself worrying before my alloted time, I have to just save it. And once my 15 minutes are up, I am done.

I am also giving myself permission to enjoy this pregnancy -- every nauseous minute of it. I am giving myself permission to feel joy without being a prisoner to my worry.

I know it might not look like much but meet my new love.

1st u/s tomorrow

2008-01-27T15:19:00.000-08:00

I will be 6 weeks 3 days. We should be able to see a heartbeat. I am excited, optimistic and very thankful that my husband will be by my side holding my hand.

I definitely feel pregnant now which is a good thing. I feel pretty yucky most of the time and I could sleep forever. My bras no longer fit and the thought of chicken absolutely repulses me. I can't get enough orange juice and I almost broke down in the grocery store today when I couldn't find any clementines. Oh and we went to see Juno today and I cried just about the whole time. I take all of these things as very good signs.

Here's another thing. Yesterday we take a trip to meet Jack, my good friend's new baby. (She, by the way, is doing much better.) I hold Jack for a while and there is no anxiety. Just peacefulness. He is beautiful and you can't not fall in love with him. He is lying in my arms, across my belly, warm with life. And I can feel him connecting with the life inside of me. Our babies will be 8 months apart.

Tomorrow will be a big milestone for us. Last time our baby stopped growing at 6 weeks. We never got to see a heartrate above 78. I am trying to put my fear aside and expect only good things tomorrow. But I can't help remembering what the first ultra-sound was like last time. It was traumatic. I wish I could set it aside. But that experience is part of who I am now.

Tomorrow's experience will add a whole new layer to who I am. And I am hopeful for a good, happy layer.

the beauty of gagging

2008-01-24T17:20:00.000-08:00

6 weeks

An amazing thing happens today. I gag.

Most people wouldn't get so excited about gagging. But me, I am very excited. In my last pregnancy, the idea of morning sickness terrifies me. I hate feeling nauseous. Who doesn't? But this time around, I welcome any signs of healthy pregnancy with open arms, and I literally want to jump for joy with the thought of it.

First graders can be gross. They pick their noses and stick their hands in their pants. They have sticky fingers, bad gas and drippy colds. Sometimes they even puke. But in my ten years of teaching, today is my first real gag.

So yesterday, Lily spills her yogurt on the table during snack time. I give her some wet wipes and paper towels and she cleans it up. Or so I think. Today another little girls tells me she doesn't think Lily got it all. She brings me the plastic crayon bin from the table and the smell hits me first. The crayons are swimming in a lumpy, gooey, day-old puddle of white yogurt.

GAG!!!! The reflex is so fast and furious, I think I scare the little girl. I immediately scan the classroom for the trash can. I am sick! I tell her to dump everything out. Crayons, scissors, pencils, erasers -- everything covered in the smelly white goo. I can't even look. Luckily she is a saint and scrubs the whole bin with soap until all traces of yogurt are gone.

But the nausea is still there. I am so delighted over my new-found pukiness, I decide to reward every table with new fresh crayons.

Call me crazy but I hope I gag again tomorrow.

believe in miracles but don't depend on them

2008-01-21T11:31:00.000-08:00

My husband and I spend a weekend away at a Bed & Breakfast in Vermont. It is exactly what we need. We spend a sunny afternoon snowshoeing in the woods. We take a nap with the fireplace going two days in a row. We are treated to hot home-cooked meals. And dessert too. We eat warm cookies right out of the cookie jar. I skip out on skiing but I get to see some old friends while my husband hits the mountain. Though the thermometer is registering single digit temperatures, I am nothing but cozy. It is a perfect weekend.

In the bathroom is a poster listing life's simple pleasures. It lists things like kiss slowly and read a children's book. But there is one that really resonates deep within me.

Believe in miracles but don't depend on them.

I could have used this advice (both ends of it) with my last pregnancy. I remember reading stories -- tears streaming down my face -- of women who had miscarried, feeling strangely envious of their strength. I knew I could never survive that. I was sure of it. Only a few weeks pregnant and already my survival depended on this baby. I knew I would lay down and die if I lost it.

Of course I didn't lay down and die, though. But I felt broken in a way I had never felt before. And when the doctors gave us a 50/50 chance I didn't believe in a miracle either. I gave up. (And I'm not proud of that.)

So here I am two and a half months later -- sitting on a toilet in a B&B in the mountains -- and it clicks. I am carrying a new miracle inside of me. And I believe in it.

I believe it will all work out this time. I believe its little heart will beat strong and it will keep growing bigger. I believe we will actually bring a beautiful healthy baby into the world come September. I believe whole-heartedly in our miracle.

I believe in it but I will not depend on it.

My sense of self and my peace with life and my relationship with my husband will not depend on this baby. I am strong and sturdy. Our marriage is strong and sturdy and it stands on its own. It didn't fall down before and it won't fall down again. I won't fall down either. A baby will bring us more joy than we've ever known and add to who we are in ways I can't even begin to imagine.

But I won't depend on this baby to make me. I am already whole.

5 weeks

2008-01-18T13:42:00.000-08:00

I pass a small milestone today. My results from my 3rd blood test come in. The nurse actually congratulates me on the phone. It is one notch more official -- I am really really truly pregnant!

12DPO -- 31
14DPO -- 77
21DPO (today) -- 4500
Progesterone is up from 17 to 37

My husband and I are off for our romantic ski weekend in VT, in which I will not be skiing (or drinking wine for that matter!) I think we'll sip grape juice by the fire and celebrate!

I think I am finally ready to start enjoying this pregnancy.

trauma in babyville

2008-01-17T14:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a traumatic week in babyville. Two of my best friends had babies this week. Michelle, my friend from childhood, lives now in London with her husband. She delivered a baby girl named Zoey Ruth by c-section, six weeks early. My college friend, Megan, gave birth vaginally right here in MA to a 9lb baby boy, John Michael. (Jack) I will post a picture of Jack as soon as I get one. Both babies are healthy and perfect. Their mothers have some healing to do. These two women are connected both by me...and now by their horrific birth stories.

I will spare you the gory details but I will tell you this. There was blood. And lots of it. So much so that they both needed transfusions. They both almost died. They ended up in ICU and didn't even meet their babies until the next day.

Megan told me a few weeks ago that she was scared to death of childbirth. I told her to think of all the millions women who have done it before her. I told her she would be fine.

Only she wasn't fine. She nearly died. And the day that was meant to be the best one of her life turned out also to be the worst. I hate this for her.

And I can't stop thinking about it. I close my eyes and I see all the blood. I imagine the screaming. The pain. The panic. The terror on my friends' faces. I think about their husbands watching helplessly more scared than they've ever been. It raises the hair on my arms. It turns my stomach.

I am terrified of childbirth. I am terrified of being ripped in half. I am terrified of this scene I can't now get out of my head.

And I am terrified of miscarrying again. I am terrified to get my blood test results tomorrow. Terrified for my 1st ultra-sound. Terrified we won't see a heartbeat. Terrified of having to start all over again.

To sum things up, I am terrified of everything it seems. And just praying that my friends heal quickly.

where is blissfully happy pregnant girl?

2008-01-15T12:38:00.000-08:00

4weeks 4days

It's like I keep forgetting that I am pregnant. I find out today that a co-worker, who had a baby last May, is pregnant again and due this June! My initial reaction is bitterness (although I hate to admit that.) How can she have two healthy babies in a row and I can't even have one. And then I remember. Maybe I do have one growing in my belly right this very second. Hello, are you in there????

This idea is entirely abstract to me, much more so than it seemed the first time. I don't feel pregnant. I still feel like the girl who just lost her baby, not the girl who has a new one.

I didn't mean to let my miscarriage define me. I thought getting pregnant again would move me forward from it. I thought I would warp into blissfully happy pregnant girl again.

I don't mean to sound negative. I feel completely blessed and I thank God every day. I really do. But maybe it's harder for me to attach this time knowing how painful it would be to lose it. Or maybe I'm not done mourning what's already been lost. Or maybe I am just too scared to let go of what I know.

...or maybe my hormones are actually doing what they are supposed to and are taking a hold of me.

still waiting

2008-01-14T13:30:00.000-08:00

4weeks 3days

You'd think that now that I really know I'm pregnant, the waiting would be over. But it's just the beginning of a whole new kind of waiting. And this kind is even harder.

I am waiting for my next blood test to make sure my numbers are increasingly properly. I am waiting for my first ultra-sound on the 28th. I am waiting to see that heartbeat. Waiting to know my baby is healthy. Waiting to be told good news for once. Waiting for morning sickness hit me (I am actually looking forward to morning sickness!) Waiting to get out of the first trimester. Waiting to tell the world. Waiting to see my belly grow. Waiting to meet our miracle.

In the meantime I'm just trying to take it one day at a time, one milestone at a time.

My 1st trimester milestone list:

5weeks -- 3rd betas
6weeks 3days -- 1st ultrasound
8weeks -- how far I got last time before I discovered something was wrong
9weeks 1day -- my previous miscarriage date
10weeks -- double digits
12weeks -- ultrasound?
13weeks -- graduate to second trimester!

Now the question is, what do I do to pass the time in-between my milestones???

i'm not telling my mother

2008-01-13T13:26:00.000-08:00

Last time we tell our families immediately and many of our friends shortly thereafter. It is such an innocent, celebratory, exciting time. But everything is different this time around, and we are being very selective about who we are telling and when.

We have decided to not tell my mother. Before I go further with this story, please know that I do love my mother dearly. But yes, she can make me crazy.

Today my husband is away again and I spend my morning writing report cards, cleaning the house from top to bottom and taking a long walk. Then it's off to the grocery store. I am still in my sweats (which I wore to bed last night,) my hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I am wearing no make-up. For most people, bumping into your mother under these circumstances would not be a big deal. But you don't know my mother.

I bump into her in the grocery store parking lot. She is with her friend. Before I know it, my grocery plans are tossed out and the three of us are driving to Linens 'N Things to go shopping together. Oh joy. Once in the store my mother looks me up and down and says, "What happened to your face?"

Thanks, mom. Like I hadn't noticed. I calmly tell her that my breakout is from the hormones caused by my miscarriage. She doesn't seem to believe me. Then she decides that this conversation is now open to anything. So she asks, "Are you trying again yet?"

You have got to be kidding me. What business is it of hers? (or her friend's?!?!?!!) Yes, I know I am pregnant again already but what if I wasn't? I feel the need to defend that girl, who just a few days ago, had no idea how long it would take. The girl who successfully dodged this question several times by telling her mother the doctor's orders were to wait a few months. The girl who feels nakedly vulnerable at any mention of pregnancy. But now a few months are over and the question is being spit right back into her face.

Are you trying again yet?

I cringe at the thought of my mother desperately wanting back what she has lost. Why can't she respect what I have lost?

If I tell her now, she will worry and forget that I am worrying too. She will call me every day and demand a health report, not understanding that the stress of giving these daily reports will actually be detrimental to my health. She will fill her calendar with my doctor's appointments, and my cell phone will start ringing before I even have my pants back on. She will tell me to rest more, exercise less, eat more, work less, etc. etc. She will stalk me to no end. She will tell the world even when I ask her not to and then vent to them daily how worried she is about me.

Of course I know she will do all of these things out of love. But it doesn't change the fact that this will drive me absolutely crazy.

So I revert to age fifteen and snap at her, "I don't want to talk about it."

Because I really don't. And the truth is, I don't know if I will for a very very long time.

repeat after me

2008-01-13T04:55:00.000-08:00

Here are some mantras I've heard from others who have lost babies and are pregnant again. I will repeat these over and over until I am blue in the face:

1. Today I am pregnant and I love my baby.
2. My past does not dictate my future.
3. There is nothing I can do to prevent a m/c from happening. Worrying myself sick won't prevent a m/c. And if (gods forbid) it were to happen again, I know I will survive.

But please don't test me on that last one...

thank you hormones!

2008-01-11T14:31:00.000-08:00

You doubled -- you more than doubled. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!!!! I'm actually really pregnant again!!

dear hormones

2008-01-11T04:36:00.000-08:00

Dearest Hormones,

I am writing this letter in a request for a small favor from you. In exchange for this favor, I hereby grant you free range over me. In fact, I invite you to invade my body and do as you please. Feel free to bless me with acne, bloat, headaches, exhaustion, sore breasts, hunger, nausea or all of the above. You have my permission to make me feel weepy, cranky, tired and fat. You can stick my face in the toilet and I will not complain.

All I ask from you is growth. Can you give me a double? Or if you really want to show off, go for a triple!!

I appreciate your cooperation.

Yours Truly,
MrsABC

trying to stay hopeful

2008-01-10T07:03:00.000-08:00

Good news: I am definitely pregnant!
Bad news: my numbers are low :(

So here I am, in limbo once again. I promise my husband this morning that I am going to take a whole new approach with this pregnancy. I am going to enjoy it instead of worrying. I am going to allow myself excitement and joy and hope. I am going to expect only good news from every blood test and every ultra-sound.

But then an hour later I get not-so-good news. The results from yesterday's blood test are in. My progesterone is 17 and my hcg is 31. The nurse tries to reassure me that I am not even four weeks pregnant and that could be the reason for the low numbers. But she does say that 31 is not a great number. And these are the words still swimming through my head.

I am immediately in tears. Why is the news never good? I am terrified to be hopeful. I am terrified to love this new baby not knowing if this is one I get to keep.

My blood will be drawn again tomorrow morning and I should have the results by noon. More waiting.

In the meantime I guess I'll just keep peeing on sticks.

the faintest line

2008-01-08T15:43:00.000-08:00

I take a pregnancy test yesterday and it is negative. I am not surprised. It is still early. Taking an early test does two things for me. It helps me accept that this might not be the month for me and softens the blow of the expected arrival of Aunt Flow. It also allows me to remain somewhat hopeful.

But I really don’t think I am pregnant and I make peace with my fate. I accept that God is giving us more time. I do not try to bargain. I do not beg. Instead I think of all the things my husband and I can do together as newlyweds. I call him and tell him I’m ok with not being pregnant this month. And I actually mean it. I go to bed feeling blessed.

I wake up at 5:30am and take my temperature as usual. The number looking back at me from my thermometer shakes me awake. It is way high. This can only mean one thing! I am completely surprised by this -- enough so to run to the bathroom and test again immediately.

At first it looks like another negative. But then I rub my eyes and examine it more closely. Is that a second line? It is the faintest thing I have ever seen, but I think there is actually something there! My husband is still away so it’s just me in my pajamas standing under the bathroom light completely freaking out. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Am I hallucinating? I pull yesterday’s test out of the trash and compare the two. This one definitely has something that the other one doesn’t! I don’t believe it!!

I call my husband on my way to work. It is still early and he is just waking up. He sounds groggy. But happy. Very happy. I am unsure, though, so he is unsure. But we are both excited and hopeful for what lies ahead.

I look at the road in front of me and the sky up above, and I thank God. I am surrounded by a sunrise so beautiful I want to cry. The clouds are thick and puffy and the pinkest of pink. Behind them is a sky I haven’t seen so blue since the day I said I do. The world is covered in pink and blue. I feels like it's made just for me.

I want this moment. I want to keep it. I say good-bye to my husband and tell him I love him. I turn my car around and speed home to get my camera. I add twelve minutes to my commute but I don’t care. The colors are fading fast. I snap this picture right outside our house and only catch the very end of it. Within minutes it's over. The pink turns to white and the blue fades to gray. It looks like an ordinary day.

Only I know it isn't. And that moment is mine to keep.

I pray this baby is ours to keep too.

do dreams come true?

2008-01-06T05:59:00.000-08:00

Don't be confused by my cheesy subject line. I am not referring to the cliche. I am asking this question in the most literal sense of it. And I will have an answer in the next few days.

I've recently heard that dreaming of becoming pregnant is an actual symptom of being pregnant! Which is very exciting to me considering I have had -- not one but TWO -- of these such dreams.

The first dream takes place in my classroom, which is also my bedroom (aren't dreams always that way!??) I tell the kids to hang on a minute so I can use the bathroom (this would never actually happen in real life.) I take my pregnancy test into my master bathroom and then I have to wait the 3 minutes to see if there is a line. I can hear the kids getting wild in my bedroom/classroom, but I can't stop myself from waiting it out in the bathroom. And then...two lines!! I'm pregnant!! I no longer care that the kids are out of control like a pack of wild wolves.

The next dream is a reflection of the amount of time my husband and I have recently devoted to watching episodes of "The Office." We discover this show over Christmas and have watched all four seasons over the past few weeks. I think this equates to about 50 episodes or something.

Anyway, in my dream we work for the same company and are at a big business dinner. The dinner is some sort of cross between a huge company awards party and a convention for women trying to get pregnant. My husband and I are not sitting at the same table but I see him -- dressed in his nicest suit -- from across the room. Right before the dinner, I go to the bathroom and take a pregnancy test. Two lines show up immediately. I am so excited!!!

During the awards ceremony I am congratulated and given flowers for my recent discovery. This is how my husband learns of our news. I try to find his face to see his reaction. I hope he isn't disappointed to not be the first to know. (Last time his best friend's wife saw my post on BOTB before I even had a chance to tell him)

We are also both awarded with big bonuses.

Do you think that's a symptom of a raise?

trying again

2008-01-05T10:36:00.000-08:00

Back at the beginning of this cycle, my husband and I debate whether or not I should chart again. I charted with my first pregnancy and it worked. We got pregnant right away. I know charting again will give us our best chances, but I dread the thought of it. I know it will bring me much anxiety and force a kind of patience on me that, frankly, I don't think I'm designed for.

When I tell people I'm a 1st grade teacher, they tell me I must have the patience of a saint. Do I? I can accomplish the painstaking task of teaching a struggling child how to read. I can manage of group of 22 loud, excited, wild six-year-olds. I can deal with a classroom full of broken-strapped snowpants, wet boots, lost mittens, gluey projects and sticky snacks. I can even handle the occasional tantrum, the inevitable class nose-picker and the annual spontaneous barfing. And yes, I know these things do require great patience.

But...I don't like waiting. And with charting, there is always something to wait for. Waiting for ovulation. Waiting for my temperature to rise. Waiting for my alarm to go off so I can take my temperature again. Waiting for the days to pass. Waiting to test. Waiting for that 2nd line. Have I mentioned I hate waiting?

But my husband and I, with our goal in focus, decide to go for it. I chart. And now here I am, nearing the end of the big dreaded wait. I am on day 27 of my cycle and I have a few more days before I can test. I am filled with nerves, worry and anxiety. And hope. I am also all-consumed by my current phantom symptoms.

1. Extremem exhaustion
Last night I fall asleep on the couch before 10:00 -- in the middle of an episode of The Office!!! (which, by the way, is my new favorite show!)

2. Heightened sense of smell
This morning I have to take out the trash and even put the whole garbage can out on the screen porch to air out because it smells so horribly bad!!!

3. Frequent Urination
Ummm, yeah! This is one I can actually track. I drink the same amount of water at work every day and I take my pee breaks at exactly the same time. (I am such a creature of habit!) Yesterday I cannot finish my water and I bring my kids to lunch 5 minutes early because I am going to BURST if I don't get to the bathroom!

4. Sore breasts
If I sqeeze them hard enough, I think they are! Does that count?

And I am stalking my chart. Maybe if I keep looking at it, I can will myself to be pregnant. Or maybe something will eventually pop right out of the chart screaming, "Congratulations! You're pregnant!!!!"

Here it is, just in case you're interested in joining me with the stalking. I'll keep you posted!

http://www.fertilityfriend.com/home/1bbc37

missed abortion

2008-01-04T13:19:00.000-08:00

When I receive the bill in the mail for my d&c, the words "missed abortion" jump off the page and stare me down. They taunt me. Abortion?!?! Nothing like throwing salt in the wound. And how the hell could something that traumatic ever be called "missed"? I hate hate hate this term.

I have always been pro-choice. I believe that every woman should be free to make the choice that is right for her. That being said, I've always known that my choice would be life. I've pondered all of the scenarios and asked myself all of the questions.

What if I wasn't married yet?
What if I wasn't ready?
What if the baby was sick?
What if the baby had Downs Syndrome?
What if (god forbid) I were raped?

My answer is always the same. I would not terminate the pregnancy. I would keep the baby. I would choose life.

I think.

Because you can't really make a choice until you have to make a choice. That's the thing about choice. Until you're actually faced with it, it's really just an opinion. And opinions are made to be pondered, debated, changed and discarded. But once it's a choice, it's yours forever.

And what right do we have to make them before we really have to make them?

The choice I am finally faced with is one that I never could have possibly dreamed up. My baby is dying, but not yet dead. I can wait wait wait for her to die or I can let her go right now. If I wait, I am afraid I will die right along with her. I will not know the moment her heart stops beating and so every second of every day I will wonder. And my heart will break a little more every time I wonder until mine is no longer beating either. I will miss my final moment to say good-bye.

I choose to let her go now.

This is the hardest choice I have ever had to make, and it is not what I ever, in a million years, thought I would ever be choosing to do. But the decision is not at all clouded by doubt. It is clear. And I am sure. I make this choice with my heart.

Call it what you will, but I'm the one who knows what it means. And I don't regret it.

another day in 1st grade

2008-01-03T15:00:00.000-08:00

As I've mentioned before, I am a first grade teacher. Every day is full of surprises and there are many many moments that leave me rolling on the floor laughing. Only just in my head. Most of these such moments are created by the children but seem to be made for adults. And since I am usually the only adult in the classroom, the halriousity (is that a word?) of the moment gets wasted on just me. But this one is just too funny to not pass along.

I've mentioned P.J. before. He is a sweet, well-behaved, soft spoken, adorable little boy. He comes from a loving happy family. Today I am teaching a lesson from our social curriculum on feelings. We are discussing sadness, excitement, embarrassment, etc.. The children are sitting on chairs in a big circle on the floor. It is 2:40 on a Thursday. I am ready to be done with the day. P.J. raises his hand.

"I feel embarrassed when my dad shows his private parts at the bus stop."

What the &**%#?!?!?! Did I just hear that right?

Twenty-two heads (including my own) are turned towards him with a big "huh???" The room is silent. I stumble over my words in an attempt to move on as quickly as possible. My face is red. I am continuing the lesson and words keep coming out of my mouth but I have no idea what I am even saying.

I need to talk to the school psychologist ASAP. What kind of sicko is this man?!?!?!? I thought he was such a normal, nice guy. How did I not pick up on this yet? Is P.J. safe in his home? Do I need to report this?

Before I have this man arrested, I decide to pull P.J. aside after the lesson and ask him to tell me more about it. I ask which kids are at his bus stop and he tells me it's just he and his sister.

Phew. At least his dad's not whipping it out for the whole neighborhood to see!

And then P.J., with his head hung low and his sweet little voice clear as day, says this:

"Ya, It's really embarrassing when he shows us his belly button."

I try desperately to suck back the enormous roar of laughter begging to explode from inside my head and wish there were a room full of adults to share this moment with. I explain to him that "private parts" are the parts covered by a bathing suit and that, yes, it must be very embarrassing when your dad gets silly like that.

It's days like this that I love love love my job.

welcome 2008!!!

2008-01-02T14:20:00.000-08:00

Well I'm a day or so late but I figured it's time to finally welcome in 2008. I've been both ecstatic and reluctant about saying good-bye to 2007. It was a year that changed me in so many ways. It was the year that made me a wife and blessed me with a baby, if only for a moment. 2007 holds both the best moment and the worst moment of all of my 31 years. And now it is all part of my past, tucked away neatly into little corners of my heart.

I bring in 2008 with a new sense of hope for all the freshness and joy it may bring. I look forward to its adventures and look toward its mysteries with both excitement and worry. Will it be the year I come home with a baby in my arms? Will I get pregnant again? Will I lose another? Will I lose anyone else from my life?

My husband does not believe in resolutions. His thought is that resolutions should be on an "always list," and not made on one day in December and then forgotten by the second week of January. He does have a point there. But personally I need an actual annual list to re-direct me and put my focus somewhere positive. So in his honor, I've added a last special resolution to my list.

And here they are, my resolutions for 2008:

1. I will be nicer to myself in all ways. I will take great care of my body and my soul. I will make my health -- both physical and emotional -- my biggest priority. This includes exercise, healthy eating, doctor visits, rest, etc. I will stop being hard on myself about the things I cannot control (i.e. stupid hormone-related break-outs) and the things that might compromise my emotional health (i.e. the stupid number on the scale.)
2. I will keep my friends close
3. I will accept that my body has more wisdom than I will ever know
4. I will be present in my life -- with my students, with my family, with my friends, with my husband, with myself
5. I will not forget about any of the above in the months to come

Happy New Year!

who's next?

2007-12-22T11:33:00.000-08:00

So I am keeping dibs on my co-workers. I teach elementary school. I work with 40 women. Somebody is always pregnant. Last year there were two. One had beautiful twin girls, and the other, a healthy baby boy. So who's next? It's a game many of the older women like to play. This year I seem to be playing along in my head. I dread the day it actually happens.

Megan is a year older than me and got married two years before me. Up until a year or so ago she wasn't even sure she would have children. But she seems to be swaying more toward the yes side lately. She tells me the other day that she just booked a trip to Utah for February vacation. A ski trip. So she's out. Who would plan a ski trip if they were planning on becoming pregnant? Phew.

Then there's Rikki. She is 28 and her wedding was the week after mine. She and her husband just bought a house in the town next to mine. This is her first year teaching at my school. The other day we share a commute together and I confide in her about my miscarriage. She seems surprised I got pregnant so soon after my wedding. She tells me she's nowhere near ready. I smile to myself. Two down.

Next is Karen. She's been married for two years and is almost 10 years older than me. If Karen is next, I will jump for joy and cry happy happy tears. Karen was pregnant last spring and was put on bed rest due to some clotting. We all prayed for her. She lost her baby at 14 weeks. She sent me a card in the mail after I lost mine. I still pray for Karen every day.

And then there is Chelsea. Her wedding was also this past summer. She got engaged the month before me and married the month after me. We shared our wedding-planning experiences together. Our staff threw us a double bridal shower last spring. We've been riding along in the same boat.

Yesterday she tacks her Christmas card up on the bulletin board in the Teacher's Room. I think of my pregnancy-announcing Christmas card that I had been so excited to tack up there. So cheesy. I think of that whole stupid box I had to throw in the trash.

Hers is a collage of photos from her honeymoon. She and her husband with big carefree smiles. Happy newlyweds. I love her card.

Chelsea is not pregnant either but I suddenly find myself insanely jealous. Did I miss something? Have I forgotten? I had a honeymoon!! I had carefree smile-big moments with my husband too. Why aren't they up there on the bulletin board right next to hers? Why did I jump right over it? What was I rushing for? Why did I get pregnant so soon? And what other newlywed bliss have I missed out on because of it?

I should be looking back at 2007 as the best year of my life. It was the year of my perfect wedding day and my incredible trip to Switzerland, the year I married my best friend! Why did 2007 become labeled as the year I lost my baby? Why did I put such a mark on it? How do I get carefree back? I want carefree!

Well it's too late for Christmas cards now but here is my too-late-but-let's-pretend-I-made-one-anyway. Happy Holidays everyone!!

one month later

2007-12-14T13:41:00.000-08:00

There is a big snowstorm yesterday. Everybody gets sent home from work early. My husband and I hunker down in our p.j.'s, open a bottle of wine, snuggle up on the couch by the Christmas tree and decide to play a game of scrabble. I kick his butt. We laugh and talk and actually stimulate our brains. We enjoy ourselves. It is a good night.

Later we are getting into bed and my mind wanders. I am suddenly stressed about what to make for dinner for our family holiday party next weekend. This little tangent brings me to panic mode. Suddenly my eyes are filling. Then I am crying. Then sobbing. My husband can't understand it and neither can I. Am I going crazy? My heart is bleeding and I am falling. I can't breathe. I am breaking in half. I am coming undone.

It's not about the dinner party anymore. I am crying for the 8 lbs I have gained and the breakout on my face. I am crying because I don't look like my best me. I am crying for all things I cannot control. I am crying for the newborn on the news today who stopped breathing in the backseat of her parents' car in the middle of the blizzard. I am crying for my best friend's newborn who I will see tomorrow. I am crying because I am scared to death to hold him and scared to death that my friend will ask me if I want to. I don't want to. The last time I held him, I was holding my own baby inside of me. Two days later everything changed. I am crying for the one I lost.

It has been one month to the day since I lost her. And I'm not over it.

DEFINITELY NOT PREGNANT

2007-12-11T17:54:00.001-08:00

I am nine when my mother teaches me about the birds and the bees. She tells me girls as young as me can get their period. I spend the next four years repeating "please no, please no, please no" every time I use the bathroom. I want nothing to do with it. And when it happens at age 13, I still want nothing to do with it.

I find myself doing the same thing 18 years later after I discover I am pregnant. I am terrified. Please no, please no, please no. I breathe a sigh of relief every time I see that beautiful stark white of the toilet paper.

But I lose my baby anyway. Since my miscarriage is in the form of a d&c, I have almost no bleeding. The toilet paper remains white.

But my stark white days end yesterday, 26 days after my miscarriage. I am brought right back to being 13 -- terrified and disgusted. I want nothing to do with it. Only now it's worse. It's like a big loud neon sign. NOT PREGNANT. NOT PREGNANT ANYMORE. DEFINITELY NOT PREGNANT. It crushes me. I hate it.

Somehow I thought I could by-pass this misery. Our doctor had advised us to wait two cycles. We did our own research and learned there was no medical reason to do so. We decided to be rebellious and not wait at all. I was so sure I would get pregnant again immediately. I didn't even consider the alternative.

Until there it is staring me in the face.

DEFINITELY NOT PREGNANT.

Do I get to add a yet to that?
(see below)

yet

2007-12-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

Being a first grade teacher, I have a million different activities up my sleeve. One that I have been doing on a weekly basis since the start of this school year is called "Dear Mrs. C." I am a penpal with every student in my class. They each have a special notebook in which they write letters to me and I write letters back. They ask me questions and I answer them. I always tell them the truth.

How old are you? 31
What is your favorite food? pizza
When is your birthday? July 22

Do you have any children?

And there it is. The question I dread. The one that catches my breath and breaks my heart every time. The first time I get this question is on the actual day of my d&c. I'm not at school, of course, but there it is sitting on my desk waiting for me when I return -- with my d&c date right at the top of it.

Dear Mrs. C.,
I like school. I like you. I missed you today. Where were you? Do you have any children?
Love,
P.J.

It was almost as if he knew. How can I answer? I hate getting that question from anybody but there is an added element when it comes from a child. An element of innocence. And assumption. I am an adult. I am a woman. I am married. Of course I must have children, right? Or at least plans for one, right? And if not, then why not? I stare at the innocence in his letter. It pulls at me. How can I match it and still tell him the truth? There is nothing innocent about this truth.

Dear P.J.,
I almost had a child. I wanted to have a child. I started to have a child but it died just as you were writing me this letter. I was at the hospital and actually the doctor had to kill it. She had to stick a vacuum inside of me and suck that life right out of me. I am glad you like school.
Love,
Mrs. C

I close the notebook and put it aside. I take a deep breath. Of all the questions I've ever been asked (and I've been asked a lot) this is my hardest to answer.

It's because I hate having to answer it for myself.

Dear P.J.,
I don't have any children yet.
Love,
Mrs. C

Yet. For such a small simple word, it sure has a lot sitting on it. It carries enough hope to fill the ocean. And it softens even the hardest of truths. I remember this word from my pre-husband days. There was another question I used to hate just as much.

Why are you still single?

What a slap in the face. Don't you think if I knew that I would fix it! My answer never wavered, though.

I haven't met the right person yet.

Yet. I still panic every time I use that word. Does there come a time when you have to drop it from the end of your sentence? A time when your answer becomes final? How do I know if my yet will ever happen? It worked out for me in the husband department but how do I know I will get that lucky in the baby department? Yet is filled with doubt. Uncertainty.

But within this uncertainty comes the hope. It's not certain that I will have children. But it's not certain that I won't either. Inside "yet" lies my faith, my energy, my dreams. "Yet" is that rope I'm hanging on to for dear life. Only three little letters but it makes all the difference between hopeless and hopeful. Only three little letters but its power is immeasurable.

I think I know what word I'm adding to my spelling test next week.

i've been tagged

2007-12-10T16:30:00.000-08:00

Blogging is new to me but I guess I've been tagged which means I have to tell you 8 random things about myself. Here goes:

1. I once tried out for Survivor. I sent in the 3-minute video and everything. I never in a million years expected them to contact me. But they did! I had a phone interview first and then went to CBS for a real interview/try-out. I had to fill out about 60 pages of paperwork. During the interview (which was on camera) they asked me if I'd ever take my clothes off on TV. My answer was no because I am a teacher and I know my students and their families would be watching. I didn't make it on the show. I like to blame it on my decency.

2. I used to run away all the time when I was a kid. I never got much farther than the woods behind my house but it was a weekly fiasco. I've always been a drama queen.

3. I am a neat-freak. I can't relax unless everything is put away and cleaned up. When I walk into my house I can't even pee until I've put away my coat & bag and opened up the mail. Sometimes I even empty the dishwasher first!

4. I am the hugest Oprah fan. I feel like she is one of my closest friends even though she doesn't even know that I exist.

5. I am a total math nerd. In high school I was totally in the closet about it. I used to tell my friends I had detention and then sneak onto the bus to go to math meets. And I was good! Both my bachelor's and master's degrees are in mathematics and I am one of those people that actually love to talk about math. My very first fight with my husband was about math!

6. I met my husband on eharmony (which was my mother's idea of all things!) We both knew after our first date that this was "it." We were engaged 8 months later.

7. I am Jewish but I absolutely LOVE Christmas and I always have. When I was little all I wanted for Hanukkah was a Christmas tree! It's a good thing my husband celebrates Christmas.

8. I got married on a blue moon. I never knew what that was but I found out so I'll share this fact with you. It's when there is a 2nd full moon in the same month. Since I got married on the 30th of June, there had already been a full moon on the 2nd.

Now, it's my turn!

We're playing a game of tag. I'm IT but I get to tag 8 new people.
The rules: Make a post with 8 random things about yourself. You're then supposed to tag 8 more people. I don't actually know 8 people with blogs. So I'll just do the best I can. And the game continues.

You're IT!

Mandie
Shanna Banana
ariella

my mother-in-law

2007-12-05T15:48:00.000-08:00

You've all heard the stories of the crazy mother-in-law -- the one who competes for your husband's attention, inserts her opinion when none is asked for, criticizes your every move and makes your life generally miserable. This is not one of those stories. My husband's mother has done none of these things and I am not here to complain. Instead, what I'd really like to do is thank her.

The day after my d&c, my husband had to leave for business for four days. My mother-in-law called me every single day. She sent flowers to my house. She never hesitated to ask me how I was really doing and she wasn't afraid to tell me how she doing either. A few days ago we were talking about my miscarriage and I sent her the link to this blog. In her response, she included a poem she had written for our baby. She signed it Nana. In her poem she acknowledged our grief as well as her own. She was honest. She loved our baby. And she got that it was a baby and not just a pregnancy. I'd like to thank her for that.

Mostly though, I'd like to thank her for giving life to my husband. We celebrated his 30th birthday on Saturday and I realized it was as much a celebration for her as it was for him. In giving him life, she's given him all of its lessons as well. She's taught him to respect and appreciate. She's raised him to be open and honest and to not be afraid to display affection. She encourages him, even today, to keep working hard for what he wants. She's shown him how to find joy in life, how to love and how to be loved.

My mother-in-law is deeply in love with her husband. I know this just by watching them -- the way they look at each other and really listen to one another. They have "date day" every single week. They eat a special breakfast every Sunday. They dream together. They hold hands. They smile and laugh -- a lot.

This is the way my husband has learned to love me. And for that, I thank her too.

There is some cliche I can't remember right now. It's something to the effect of "men choose wives who end up just like their mothers." If this turns out to be true, it would be my greatest honor.

what happened to rainbows and puppy dogs?

2007-12-02T14:40:00.000-08:00

I should be 12 weeks tomorrow. I should be making my big announcement at work. People should be hugging me and congratulating me and excitedly throwing out baby names to me. But none of this is happening. I will go to work, and I will not be noticed. It will be an ordinary day.

When did I start expecting my life to be so rainbows-and-puppy-dogs anyway? Just over two years ago I was 29 and single, living in a one-bedroom basement apartment just outside of Boston with a crazy guy upstairs. I ate cereal for dinner five days a week and thought my life was pretty good.

Since when did my standards get so high?

I met my husband in September of 2005 and fell madly in love. It was the instant fairy tale kind too. There was never doubt. Everything about him was just right. He moved in three months later and proposed the following May on the top of a mountain. He is everything I ever asked for.

And he's hot too.

We bought our first house together and moved from a crowded one-bedroom condo to a spacious four-bedroom colonial in a beautiful little town that has many more trees than people. We had the wedding of our dreams. We said "I do" right on the beach. It was 72 and sunny. God even blessed us with a full moon that night. We spent two weeks in Switzerland eating chocolate and drinking wine. We got pregnant our first time ever trying.

My husband and I are both healthy. Between the two of us, we have six parents and five living grandparents. My entire family lives within 30 miles of us. We have great friends. We both make good livings and don't have to worry too much about money. I have a job I don't hate. Some days I actually enjoy it. I even like my boss.

So why do I have any right to complain? Don't I realize other people have it much worse? Have I been forgetting to count my blessings? Did I really think life would always be this easy? Did I see others suffering and just think I would be exempt forever? Did I forget I was human?

Well, I've been rudely awakened. Pinched right out of my dream. And here I am. Living the human life. Having downs that are just as steep as the ups. And plenty of sorrow right along with all the joy.

I guess nobody gets off scott free. Not even me.

my reason for writing

2007-11-29T14:29:00.000-08:00

I receive an insult this morning. Slap in the face. Kick in the stomach. A claim that this blog is a cry for sympathy, a plea for validation. I am stung. I want to shut down. Screw this blog, I'll just go back to scribbling away in my journal and keep it hidden in my closet. But then I stop and I ask myself this: Why am I writing this blog? What is my purpose here?

This blog started simply as an outlet. Writing is like breathing for me. It is how I process life -- it's my way of taking it all in and blowing it all out. I've never shared my writing before, though, so this part is new for me. I'm nervous, vulnerable. But for once, saying it is not enough. I need to be heard.

And then somebody hears me. She stumbles upon my blog a few days after losing her own baby. She hears her own voice in my story. She is experiencing the loneliest kind of lonely. I know this because I was just there. The person LIVING inside of her has just died. And even her own husband, as much as he tries, can't understand what this feels like.

But I can. And suddenly she is not alone. And neither am I. That's what this is all about.

So am I asking for validation? Yes, I am. Am I looking for sympathy? Yes. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. Sympathy is not pity. Sympathy does not belittle; it comforts. And it validates. Hallmark has made a fortune on sympathy. It is a natural human reaction. And a natural human need as well.

And if you have not lost a baby? Why should you read this? Well, maybe you shouldn't. You are welcome to close out whenever you wish. I will never even know the difference.

But if you choose to stay, perhaps my story can give a voice to your friend or your sister or your acquaintance who cannot explain it all herself. If you can't validate my experience, maybe you can validate hers. Maybe you can tell her, "I'm so sorry" instead of "don't worry, I'm sure you'll get pregnant again." She already knows she will get pregnant again. That isn't the point.

If my story can offer validation to somebody else; if it can give or inspire sympathy; if it can somehow soften this experience for just one other woman, then this blog has purpose.

And my baby's existence did not go in vain.

"why me" moments

2007-11-27T16:13:00.000-08:00

I keep having these moments that creep up on me -- moments that can only be referred to as "why me?!?!?"

The first of these moments comes while I am decorating my house for Christmas. Never mind that I am Jewish. My husband is not, and I am trying desperately to bring joy back to our home. What better way than putting those little peaceful candlelights in our windows. As I place the last one in the bedroom, the light falls from my hand to the hard-wood floor and the glass shatters everywhere. The tears are immediate. Why is God punishing me? What did I ever do to deserve this?? I am defeated. My plan for a peaceful, joy-filled home is swept into the dustpan with the shards of broken glass.

The next moment comes while my husband and I are enjoying english muffins for dinner in front of the TV. We are in our jammies under a blanket on the couch. I am cozy. I am relaxed. I am content. I reach for my plate. The muffin slips off and lands first on the blanket and then on the floor. Jam-side down. Again the tears are immediate. I cannot understand it. First my baby, then the broken glass, now this? Raspberry jam?!?!? Why why why? What did I ever do??

I have an old friend who ended our last conversation ever with "watch out, karma's a bitch." My baby was due to be born on her birthday. Coincidence? Or am I finally paying the price for kissing the guy she liked back in '99? Could this be karma coming back to even the score? Has it taken my baby?

Today there is another moment. My husband has a job interview in D.C. He is quite successful with his current job, but he is not one to close a door that has been opened for him. So he does his research and he gets excited about this new opportunity. I pick up his best suit (the one he wore on our wedding day) from the dry cleaner's. He wakes up at 4am, showers and puts on his lucky boxers. He kisses me good-bye on the forehead and I mumble him a "good luck." He is off to the airport.

A few hours later he calls me and tells me he missed his flight. What?!?! He's never missed a flight in his life. God is punishing him too?? What did he ever do wrong?

And then I realize. Nothing. He has done nothing wrong. He is as good as good gets. He is honest, smart, responsible, generous and kind. He is nice to his mother. He is nice to his step-mother. He is even nice to my mother. In fact, I can't think of a single person he is not nice to. Karma may have been here to kick me but there's just no way it would have any reason to mess with him too.

And that's when it clicks. If God is not punishing him, maybe he is not punishing me either. Maybe this is not the art of karma at all. What if what they say is actually true -- sometimes bad things happen to good people. Maybe it's just that simple. Broken glass, spilled muffins and missed flights happen to good people.

Perhaps then, lost babies happen to good people too.

breath of fresh air

2007-11-25T15:14:00.000-08:00

My husband and I spend Thanksgiving with his father and step-mother in central New York. We debate about canceling our trip due to our recent loss but decide that maybe a change of scenery and a breath of fresh air is just what we need. And fresh air is what we get.

Things in central New York always seem to be a little bit colder, a little bit quieter, a little bit slower. His father lives in a cabin-transformed-into-house on the top of a hill in the woods overlooking the mountains. The bed we sleep in has sheets so worn you can almost see through them. Its covered with a mismatch of at least 5 hand-made quilts and big goose-down blankets. A bear-skinned rug lies at the foot of the bed. I always sleep late in central New York.

And then there is Nicholas, my husband's brother's son. He is 3 1/2 and filled with nothing but love, joy, kindness and affection. I won't get into his parenting situation or the details of his home life. I'll just put it this way -- his good nature is nothing short of miracle and he is the absolute light of my in-laws' lives. He is the light of my husband's life too.

He spends the night with us at his grandma and papa's house. In my lazy sleep-in morning, I am awakened when Nicholas sneaks into our room and crawls into bed with me and my husband. He gets right up under those cozy covers, cuddles right in between us and pretends to sleep. A tiny little giggle escapes him. In this moment my heart sings. And it breaks. I love this moment. I want this moment. Only I want it with our own child.

Later we take Nicholas for a walk in the woods. He loves the crunching of the snow beneath his feet and the icy water of the lake. He loves the stones, the birds, the fresh air. He loves the outdoors. He is like his uncle. I watch the two of them and thank God for this day. I thank God for the father my husband will be. I recognize the miracle in Nicholas and I pray for our own.

back to the gym

2007-11-25T10:54:00.000-08:00

So today is my first day at the gym in almost a month. Right around Halloween I decide to use fatigue and exhaustion as my ticket out. Then of course our little bean is in trouble so I put my feet up for a whole week. Then I lose the baby and am on bed rest for four days and then comes the "poor me" excuse. Well today I am all out of excuses and I'm sweating and grunting like the rest of them.

My normal routine consists of a Sunday morning and Thursday afternoon strength class with some cardio mixed in between. By my doctor's recommendation, I inform both instructors I am pregnant from the beginning. I am not worried about "un-telling" my Sunday instructor. The class is always full and she is not the friendliest to begin with. The only words I've ever spoken to her are "I'm pregnant" and I'm not about to follow it up with "actually I'm not." This one I can just ignore. Let her think what she wants.

I do feel like a big cheater, though, when she passes by me with a slight nod as I am wussing out of a set of squats. She thinks my growing buttocks, little belly and half-assed squats are sweet. She thinks I am a cute pregnant girl; that my dark circles are from exhaustion or maybe nausea. Perhaps I've missed the last few classes because my morning sickness has kicked in and I am home puking in the toilet, drinking ginger-ale and painting my nursery. What she doesn't see is that I am nothing more than out of shape, overweight, lazy and in mourning. Far from cute.

I peek out the window trying to find my husband's cute little ass on the elliptical. Shit! There is my Thursday instructor peeking back in. Why is he here today?!? Unlike the Sunday lady, this one has a name. Jeremy. Funny, friendly, high-fiving, laugh-out-loud Jeremy. He is my friend. On the day I tell him I'm pregnant he smiles his giant smile and his eyes get all big and he congratulates me with a monstrous hug before I can hush him and explain we aren't actually telling people yet. He can't help himself and I can't help but find his joy contagious. I'm pregnant. Yayyyyyy!!

Only now I'm not and how do I tell him this. I feel him staring at me and I look away. I can just hear his loud happy voice with his outreached hand ready for a hard shake -- where've you been, girl? How ya feelin? How's that little baby in there? I can just see the awkwardness in his face when I tell him the truth. I can't do it. I am trapped. Trapped in this room of sweat and movement and strength. "Strength" class. Only I don't feel strong. I feel weak. Frozen. Broken.

In this moment I am the most naked kind of vulnerable and I recognize it. I even accept it. Am I trying to protect him? No, I'm trying to protect me. But from what? Embarrassment? Pity? Shame? Why? I have done nothing wrong! I did not even do this -- it was done to me!

My class is over. I put away my weights and exit the room ready to stand up to my own worst enemy. I am a big girl. I will face the truth and I will share it shamelessly. I will do it with grace. I will not hide. Only Jeremy is gone. I will have to wait until Thursday after all. But something in me has changed. I no longer dread this and I will not avoid it. I will hold my head up high and I will live my truth.

I may have wussed a little bit on my squats today, but this strength class has not gone wasted.

was I not ready?

2007-11-21T11:12:00.000-08:00

I already told you about the day I discover something is wrong with our baby. But it's two days before that when I actually receive my first sign, I just don't know it at the time.

It is the day my best friend gives birth to a healthy baby boy. My husband and I rush off to the hospital to meet the new little guy. We are especially excited to visit the exact place where, in just 7 short months, we will be bringing our own little bundle of joy into the world (or so we are thinking at the time.)

We walk into the room and there is my friend, looking the happiest I've ever seen her; husband by her side; beautiful baby boy curled up in her arms. We congratulate them and they congratulate us. It is a happy, happy day. Her husband brings his new son over to me and places him in my arms. "It'll be your turn soon enough," he tells me.

I am holding life. Brand new life. Tiny. Precious. Perfect.

Suddenly my friend looks panicked. "Is he choking?!?!" I quickly hand him back to her. Did I choke him? Did I hurt him? Is he breathing? Should we call the nurse?

Turns out he just needs to be burped. The baby calms down. My friend calms down. My husband and her husband start talking sports. But I haven't calmed down. The questions keep coming. Did I hold him wrong? Will I know how to hold my own? Am I ready to be a mother? What if I'm not?

That night I go to bed with an itchy bug bite on my leg. I wake up in the middle of the night and it seems the bug bite has spread. I am scratching EVERYWHERE. Finally I turn on the light to discover I am covered in hives. Now, I have never in my life had hives. In fact, my only prior experience with hives was when my husband broke out in them the day before our wedding. Stress-induced hives.

I rush to the doctor the next morning and she gives me benadryl and promises me my baby is just fine. I schedule my ultra-sound for the next day just to be sure. This next day is the one I discover my baby is not fine.

I know if I ask any doctor in the world whether there is any relationship between the hives and the loss of my baby, the answer will be no. Absolutely not. That's crazy. It's just a coincidence.

But as much as I try, I'm just not convinced. I practically choke my best friend's new baby and then I lose my own? The irony is just too much for me. Someone up there (or in there) had to have been watching. Did I fail the baby-holding test and God changed his mind? Did he decide I'm just not ready? Did our baby sense my fear and decide she wants a different mother after all? Or worse yet, did I decide I'm not ready? Were the hives my body's way of saying, "Wait! Stop! I'm don't know if I'm ready for this!" And if so, how do I prove that I am? How do I get a second chance when I can't even look at a baby now without wanting to cry? How do I get a second chance when I blew my first one. I promised my baby life. And she died before I could give it to her.

How will I ever feel ready again?

what i've gained

2007-11-19T14:08:00.001-08:00

I don't know what possesses me but I decide to get on the scale this morning. It's my first day going back to work and maybe I think it will help me start getting my life back in order. Instead it sends me two steps backwards. Or more specifically, 8 lbs forward.

"But you were pregnant," says my husband (who returned from his trip late last night) when he sees my eyes filling with tears.

I was pregnant. There it is again. Past tense. What else was I that I no longer am? And what am I now? Or better yet -- who am I now? Because I know I'm certainly not the same as I was.

I am bigger; my heart heavier; my pain wider.

But it seems 8 lbs is not all I've gained. I've also gained a deeper compassion for others who have lost something. I've gained an acceptance to my own vulnerability. I've gained a wider appreciation for life -- and the fragility of it. I've gained a stronger need for the people in my life. I've gained a love for my husband that goes beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Somehow in this loss, I'm coming out with more.

The 8 lbs can go but the rest is mine to keep.

the day i know

2007-11-18T06:38:00.000-08:00

I don't think I'll be getting dressed today. As if the heartbreak isn't enough, I am cursed also with severe-doubled-over-in-pain cramping. And my husband is still out of town. I lie in bed in the middle of the night moaning in pain, wanting nothing more than to be taken care of by him. But he isn't here and I don't want to call and wake him. What is the point -- there is nothing he can do and why should he have to lose sleep too. So I lie here alone and realize this -- even in the strongest of relationships, the happiest of marriages, the purest of love, there will still be moments of bare-boned complete and utter loneliness. This is one of those moments.

I have another one of these moments a few weeks ago and that's really where this nightmare begins. The day I know. It is the day of my first ultra-sound. I am exactly 8 weeks. I know this because I have been charting and know the exact date we conceived. My husband and I are filled with hope and excitement -- I get to see my child for the first time! Unfortunately he has a meeting and can't come with me. We make the decision that I should keep the appointment. If there are two of them in there, I will call him right away. That is our biggest concern.

I explain to my boss why I have to leave for yet another doctor's appointment. She hugs me and congratulates me and hugs me again. I promise to be back before my lunch break is over. I walk into the doctor's office shaking with nerves. I know this day will change me.

I just don't know how much.

At first the nurse points out my baby on the screen and lets me know that that little flashing light is its heartbeat. My baby has a heartbeat!! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The tears start rolling. I am going to be a mother. I can't wait to call my husband.

And then something happens. Her face changes. She squints to see the screen and says, "hmmm." Then she turns off the machine and says the baby's heart-rate is a little bit slow. She wants me to come back in a week and take another look. She's not too concerned, though, because the baby is measuring only 6 weeks and 2 days.

My heart drops. I am 8 weeks and I am sure of it. Something is very very wrong. She assures me I must have my dates mixed up. She brings out the little wheel and shows me -- I conceived on October 7. I remember that date. It is the date my husband came home from his camping trip -- the date I told him we were having a baby. I already had four positive pregnancy tests by October 7. Something is very very wrong.

The next 2 hours are a blur. I call my husband 42 times. I think eventually he will guess something is wrong and pick up the phone. I don't know he has it on silent. I go back to work to get my stuff, sobbing so hysterically nobody can understand me. People are hugging me and they didn't even know why. A little girl on her way to the bathroom looks up at me with shock and terror. She has never seen her teacher cry.

I don't know how I am driving. Through my tears I see nothing. My ground has dropped. I am drowning. Finally I am home, doubled over in grief on the couch. I don't even bother to take off my coat. Where is my husband? It is the loneliest 2 hours of my life. I try to stay calm for the baby but I can't even breathe. Something is very very wrong. He finally walks in the door and he holds me as I collapse in his arms. Everything is going to be alright, he tells me. I want to believe him. But I don't.

There is nothing to do but wait. We pray and stay optimistic and tell our baby over and over again how much we love her and want her to grow strong for us. We promise her the world. I sleep every night with my hand over my belly. I drink lots of milk. We beg God to take care of her.

Back at the doctor's office one very long week later -- my husband at my side -- we learn her fate. She has not grown. Her heart-rate has slowed. There is no chance of survival. He bows his head. The breath I've been holding for a week comes out in a long sad exhale. There are no words for this kind of devastation.

But at least this time I have his hand to hold.

i think i'm still in here

2007-11-17T18:28:00.000-08:00

So I survive the baby shower. Thank goodness for wine! It is my first glass in over 2 months and I definitely refill it more than once. I have a brief freak-out when the beautiful bassinet arrives at my door. And I have to leave the room when she's opening the gifts. It's a good thing my kitchen needs straightening up.

Overall the experience is bittersweet and I will always look back at this picture and smile at the strength in it. I love seeing her happy and I love that I am able to give joy to someone I love (and not have to take it away afterwards either.)

Mostly I love that even in sorrow -- even with a broken heart -- generosity can prevail. I've been robbed. My baby -- along with the joy and dreams that she brings -- is gone. But what remains is my SELF. And maybe, possibly, it's even bigger than before.

self-fulfilling prophecy my ass!

2007-11-17T07:16:00.001-08:00

I just read a comment from a woman that said that worrying about a miscarriage is a self-fulfilling prophecy. This would imply that I caused my miscarriage by worrying about it to begin with. Yes, I admit it, I did worry. But who the hell wouldn't worry? I was carrying the most precious gift I had ever been given. I have spent the last 10 days trying to convince myself that there was nothing I could have done differently to have saved my baby. And now in 20 seconds all that convincing has come undone.

My doctor explained it like this. Out of the millions of sperm that could have reached my egg, the one that got there fastest just was not a good match. BAD LUCK and nothing more. I would like to find that girl and kick her!

Ok, ok, I don't really mean that. I don't want to kick her. She's probably a very nice person who meant no harm by her comment. It's the world I want to kick. Or God. Or the sperm who was the bad match to my egg. Or something. I wish more than anything I could rewind a week or two and be that innocent again. But I'm not. I've passed into "experienced," remember?

i get dressed!!

2007-11-17T05:41:00.000-08:00

I get dressed today for the first time in 3 days. I shower, shave and even put on make-up. I might even blow-dry my hair -- well, I might not go that far but I'll at least brush it. I speak to my husband on the phone without breaking down. Let's hear it for small victories. I feel almost human again and not just a ball of wet grief. Life will go on.

heartache

2007-11-16T19:30:00.000-08:00

I have these moments that creep up on me. Heartache. Like it actually physically aches. I miss my husband and I miss our baby. It's raw. And real. And the tears keep coming. I miss my baby!!!!!

isn't it ironic

2007-11-16T17:46:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my good friend's baby shower. I am hosting it at my house. Can the timing be any more ironic? What exactly is God trying to teach me here? Yes, I've been given every opportunity to move the shower. My friend's mother had 7 miscarriages of her own before adopting her so she has been especially sensitive to what I am going through. I've given it a lot of thought and I've decided to keep things has planned. People seem to think I am crazy for doing this so let me explain why:

1. I am happy for my friend
2. I've been in the same pajamas for 3 days now and it's time to get dressed
3. I was excited to host a party at my new house and why should I be robbed of that when I have already been robbed of so much
4. My friend had her own personal struggle with getting pregnant. I won't go into details because this is my blog, not hers. Her story is different than mine but the same theme. She wanted a baby and didn't have one. This is her happy ending (beginning!) and it gives me great hope for my own. (This photo was taken a few years back before I even met my husband -- when she and I both had big dreams to look forward to. We've both had great joy in our lives since then which also brings me great hope. A lot can change in a few years)
5. If I can get through this, I can get through anything

Now if I were the same amount pregnant as her, would I be able to do it? If my belly was supposed to be her size right now and this was supposed to be the month of my own shower, would I be strong enough to handle it? I doubt it. I can't even seem to pick up the phone and call my other friend who was a few weeks ahead of me. So it's not that I am in denial about my loss or that I have some kind of super-power strength. I'm just as vulnerable and heartbroken as anyone else who's gone through this.

It's just that I started planning this shower before I even knew I was pregnant myself. And although I was so excited for us to be pregnant together, we were never really in the same stage so we WEREN'T going through it together. She was always first and I was ok with that. This part hasn't changed at all. She's just going first and I will get my turn someday too. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Ask me in May if I want to host a shower and I can almost guarantee you my answer will be no.

memory lane

2007-11-16T05:21:00.001-08:00

Normally I would give anything for three days off in a row. I can't say I'd rather be at work right now, but I'm not so thrilled about being home alone with my doctor's orders to do NOTHING either. My husband left for his business meeting yesterday and is gone until Monday. So it's just me, my house and my empty uterus.

I made my baby a memory box the other day. I break down at Marshalls buying the box. I hold it to my chest through the store thinking "this is my baby's coffin." A woman bumps into me by accident and I nearly drop the box. That's when I lose it. It's bad enough I am going to lose my baby today, you would have to kill me to part with that box.

My husband and I fill the box together. We start by deflating the balloons I bought to surprise him when I found out I was pregnant. He had been camping for the weekend with his dad and I wanted the moment to be one he would remember forever. I was like a crazy woman at the grocery store that day trying to keep my secret until my husband came home. I had to tell someone, though, so I burst it out to the woman blowing up the balloons. She was so excited for me, she squealed! And I had to come back to her a second time after the pink one flew off in the parking lot! I should have known then this was too good to be true.

I decorated our master bathroom that night with the balloons -- my four positive HPT's tied to the bottoms. I hung a onesie on the mirror that said, "I love daddy" and I left a special card to my husband on the counter. There are no words to describe the moment he learned he was going to be a father. The picture says it all.

So we put these photos in the box along with the onesie. We also add the ultra-sound picture of our little bean, a blankie I fell in love with, a "best friends" cap I bought for us and my 2 best friends who are pregnant, (there goes the dream of our children growing up together,) the framed poem we made for our parents to tell them the news and the Christmas card we had made but never got to send. Yup, we jumped the gun and ordered our Christmas cards a week or two ago, a photo of us announcing to the world that there were actually 3 people in the photo. I threw the rest of the cards away yesterday, saving just one for our box. I don't think we're doing Christmas cards this year.

The photo that makes me the saddest is the one of my mom when she found out the news. It's pure joy on her face and now that's been taken away from her. When you've been given joy and then it's taken from you, it's not like you end up where you started out. It doesn't work that way. The joy isn't removed, it's just replaced with sorrow. And you still have just as much. Or maybe more. It breaks my heart.

I had high hopes of sharing these photos with our child some day to let her know how much she was wanted. (I've decided to refer to the baby as a "she" since my husband and I both felt she was a girl. We'll never know, of course, but the pink balloon was still completely inflated as of yesterday, almost 6 weeks after buying it, so that's enough of a sign for me.) But now these photos are put away in a box in my closet for nobody to see but me and my empty uterus...and whoever is reading this blog, I guess.

Who knows, maybe our angel is reading it from heaven.

why am i here?

2007-11-15T19:21:00.000-08:00

Mostly the reason I'm here is that I like to write. Putting my feelings out on paper gets them out of me. I write when I am full of excitement, when I am full of sorrow and when I somewhere in between just trying to figure it all out. I've been writing about my life since the 6th grade and I have about 30 journals sitting on a shelf in my closet filled with my petty troubles and my big moments of the last 20 years -- everything from my first kiss to my wedding day.

Unfortunately I am now in the middle of a sorrowful time and I've written so much in the past week, my hand is actually starting to hurt. I've decided it might be time to make the switch to electronic.

So here I am. And here's my story. I lost my baby. I was 9 weeks pregnant and I lost my baby. I am 31, healthy, happily married, and wanting more than anything to start a family with my husband.

I find myself in the Operating Room yesterday moments away from an abortion. The doctors call it a “d&c” but it is, in fact, the same procedure as an abortion. My husband is standing next to me as I lie on the table, and we both put our hands on my belly and we whisper good-bye to our baby. I like to think of myself as passing from innocent to experienced in that moment, although I don't wish an experience like this one on my worst enemy.

I don't even begin to understand what kind of devastation this will bring until the day I find out I am pregnant. You can’t grasp the loss until you understand the gain. My baby is the size of a pinto bean and I love it more than I've ever loved anything. It is part of me, created by love and actually living inside of me. A heart is beating inside of me. I worry about miscarriage. I am petrified. But my husband keeps telling me everything is fine and it is time to start enjoying this new life. So we do. We celebrate the news with family and friends. We bring tears of joy to our parents. We think of names for our baby. We buy it a blankie. My husband sings lullabies to my belly every night.

And in a moment, the dream is gone. The doctor tells us the baby’s heart is not strong. It is not developing properly. It will not survive.

My husband and I are dealing with our loss, and we are very hopeful for a healthier pregnancy at some point down the road. We understand this is nature’s way.

This doesn’t lessen our devastation, though, and what I can’t understand is why our story has to be a secret. When a family member dies, you welcome the support of all the people in your life. You grieve with them standing by your side. But when the baby growing inside of you dies, you lock the sorrow inside your house. You walk around in the outside world as if nothing has been lost. I don't get it. So I'm done keeping this a secret.

I was 9 weeks pregnant and I lost my baby.