I'd like to introduce you to my girls....

Confession: My boobs are out of control.

Sorry, was that too much? Oh well. Ya know that age where your filter starts to go out the window and you are all like, “TMI? Who cares! We’re all friends here, right?” Yeah I think I am there. So anyways. I have never been a small chested gal, and when pregnant, these things become ginormous 2 pound milkers. 9 times out of 10, I get dressed in my morning fog, only to make it to work and think “Oh boy, that’s a tad too much boob for the office” but at that point what’s a girl to do, other than not cross her arms so as to not enhance the bazingas. I know this girl who when pregnant, may or may not have used a food scale to weigh her gigante ladies.  She may or may not have been me. Crazy right!? Yeah yeah yeah I hear the “Whaaaaaa…quit your crying” since I know many a flatties who pray for the Boob gods to amply bless them during pregnancy. But ohhhh ladies just you wait. When those heavens part and them Tata angels touch you, you may find yourself far from joining in the Hallelujah chorus! Especially when you realize dem melons can trump eye contact and can cause distracted conversation focus! And yowza that’s just the boobs. I wont even discuss the national geographic nippage that occurs, I mean really folks its like a set of gumballs, gumdrops, your favorite hard candy, whatever. It’s ridiculous! And God forbid you encounter a cool breeze or a boob slap from a sibling (yeah thanks Christy) the sensitivity is something so unexpected! There are certain times in pregnancy that I just have to chuckle and sigh as I think "well we have reached a new low here" and last week was one of those such times… I was eating lunch, some arroz con gandules (Rice with pigeon peas) and was holding the container at my belly and spooning (who am I kidding, we all know I was shoveling it into my mouth like a heffer) portions into my mouth only to feel a grain fall into ma cleave. So I fished it out, only to then find another and another. 3 grains of rice were resting on the little shelf area between my boobs and my belly down my shirt. So there I am, at my desk, digging down my shirt for those three stupid grains of rice! Oye! Luckily I had the decency to toss them rather than eat them, cause that would be gross…right? For sure! Right, totally gross… *sigh* Welp, no one said pregnancy was glamorous, that’s for sure! And so with 10 more weeks to go, lets see just how much more mammoth these beasts can get!!

Mommy Dearest...

Confession: Being a step mom is tricky.

Did I mention I have been married for 5 years and have yet to meet my step daughter? Again Cray cray! Much of that is due to the fact that she lives out of state with her mother and well, we live here. And while Alfie goes out to visit her usually every year around her birthday, it is that difficult road to travel  between desire to really want to meet her, and the worry that me (new wife) being around ex wife, would in some way make his time with his daughter harder, trickier, more torturous. For what? All so I can have an opportunity? I never thought it was fair, and I never wanted to ruin that small window of time, just for my wants. He deserves to have that time be as perfect as possible, even if it means I go another year without meeting her, or if it means I have to cringe and deal with the expenses that come with the territory. That’s what we do, right?

There are many things I wish more people talked about, and being a step parent is one of them. Especially one with a straining relationship between the hubby’s ex and himself. And then here I am, the “new wife” tossed in the mix. Unsure of whether to be fully involved, to mind my own business, to be half involved and half not involved, I don’t know what the right answer is. I don’t often, okay rarely ever, have a sounding board of friends or aquaintences with whom I can bounce questions off of or ask for advice from the perspective of having an additional child fit into the mix. And for these past 5 years, it really hasn’t been an issue. Much of our situation was almost “out of sight, out of mind” due to the fact that Alfie’s daughter didn’t live here, had yet to visit, and had a parent who was unwilling to allow certain things. Until now. Circumstances have changed and we are working through new parental responsibilities and roles, definite changes to current visitation privileges, and possible custody changes. All during which we are taking care of a 2 year old, working and oh yeah, expecting a baby. And much of it feels like sailing through uncharted waters at the mercy of out of state lawyers and with involvement of ex-inlaws. And while this is a HUGE answer to many, many, many (like 10 years worth of) prayers, it is still really stressful and often makes me wonder, “Okay, God, whatcha doing here”? Not in doubting his plan, but in the “why now?”, “What are you planning here, Lord?” It’s that exciting anticipation of what He is going to do, along with that fearful anxiousness of having absolutely no idea how things are going to play out, how long it is going to take, or what that means for our small family. However, there have been definite moments of “God things” that remind me that He is sooo allllll over this entire situation. One of the “God things” that im like, “yep, that was totally You!” is our home. We bought our house in Webster 2 years ago, and never really thought about the number of bedrooms we would need. Most houses in our price range had 3 rooms, almost none had 4 and even fewer had 4 with more than 1 bathroom (more than 1 bathroom was a MUST for me). And then we found our current house. 4 bedrooms, and more than 1 full bathroom! Little did we know, that we would need the 4^th room as more that a craft room or guest room. Little did we know that it would be important and an ease to the mind to not have to figure out how we would make a special space for an 11 year old, while also having to plan for a nursery! Little did we know it would be important in our home study to have a specific bedroom arrangement for her. I know I would for sure be freaking out more so than I am now… (I’m a worrier, what can I say…). And the crazy part is that this has all primarily happened since Christmas! There has been lots of paperwork filled out, a few court “phone appearances”, many sleepless nights and much excitement of what could be coming. We are currently prepping for a home inspection, in which we didn’t get much advanced notice (for a planner like myself, that is very very nerve wracking) and which would determine how long of visits Alfie’s daughter would be able to have. I have no doubt we will pass with flying colors, but the whole unknown factor to it and the desire to put ours and our homes best foot forward, does put me on edge. So here’s hoping everything tomorrow goes well! And well, I guess, more to come in the next 2 months! Oye!

Baby #2 - First Trimester: Part 4

Week 11 was my rough week. It was the weekend of thanksgiving. I was able to eat okay the day of but after eating my body felt like it literally shut down. And kept shutting down. I think I started feeling worse Sunday and knew I needed to call the drs Monday. I called and the response I got was “well eat small meals, take a lot of small sips throughout the day. Have you tried tea? Or different temperature of juice or even Gatorade” I wanted to reach through the phone and slap her. This is NOT my first rodeo honey! I know how it goes, I wouldn’t be calling if I hadn’t tried that. But she said to try that and then call at the end of the day. Well I ended up having to come home and rest by noon, and was getting weaker and weaker. By the morning I was toast. I was shaky and really really weak. And as always I take notice of my urine color (to detect dehydration) and it was getting darker and darker. Tuesday morning I called to give the status I was supposed to give the afternoon before. The nurse called back and said if I wanted to come see the PA I could but they didn’t think I was “that bad”. I thought twice, always second guessing myself, that maybe I should just wait it out. But of course I knew it would only get worse and opted to see the PA. Unfortunately I would have to go to the Farmington office rather than the Penfield office but I didn’t care, I just felt bad that Alfie would have to take me (I was in NO shape to drive. I could barely sit upright). So off we went. Once we arrived, I shuffled myself into the office. And when I say shuffle I mean shuffle. It wasn’t a slow walk it was a hunched over, hold onto the car, then Alfie, then stair railing, then wall, just to check in. When the nurse called me back to give a urine sample, I remember thinking, “man my body is shot”. What I mean by that is that feeling your body has when you have the flu and you have the body aches an general weakness. That’s it. Sure you can force yourself to be upright and walk for a very short time but the strain on your body to do that isn’t worth it. That’s how I felt. I could barely get onto the scale by myself. Luckily I had only dropped 3lbs instead of the 8lbs with Colty. Again I shuffled into the room and lay on the exam table. When the PA came in she took one look at me and pretty much said, she didn’t realize from the messages I’d left that it was this bad. Luckily she was kind, and had been through it before, herself. Not only did she ask me how it was, but she asked Alfie, which I thought was great. Because really, I hate to be thought of as a wimp, so I don’t always tell how bad things are (with the exception of blogging… I really put it out there!). So anyways, she gave us two options: just try a cocktail of meds (Zofran and Phenergan together) or go to the hospital for fluids. And thank God for Alfie, because he jumped in with “Can we do both?” which of course she was more than willing to allow. So with the promise of feeling better on the horizon (or so I thought), off to the hospital we went. Since Alfie had to be at work, mom was able to step in and take me, which I was more than fine with. I would have been fine just being dropped off, as this wasn’t my first time and I’d literally be just lying there doing nothing. But it was nice to have mom there with me. It’s always nice to have your mama with you. Of course that day was extremely busy, and the wait in the waiting room reflected that. But we signed in anyways and waited our turn. so I opted for a wheelchair when dropped off as I was extremely weak from dehydration. While mom parked the attendant wheeled me over to get signed in. There was an older couple waiting right by the door between where I was signing in and where I had to go to wait. The old lady was sitting with the older man behind her resting against the wall. Mom, came in and was then attempting to move me to the waiting room, when WHAM she clipped my wheelchair with that of the little old lady’s. LOL YIKES! They certainly gave us the death glare. Although in moms defense the old couple blocked the area pretty good and there wasn’t much room to maneuver. They really shouldn’t have been there! Anyways, they got their payback when another older couple ran into my wheelchair on their way back to be seen…lol no harm done 

When I say the ED was busy, I mean they were putting patients in the HALLWAY on beds! I was praying hard that wouldn’t be me! I can’t handle hospitals anyways that being in a hallway and watching the sick be wheeled by would have been too much for me. Much too much. Anyways, I was finally called back and put into the holding room where a Dr. came and asked the typically preliminary questions: whats wrong? How long have you been feeling like this? When is the last time you puked? When was the last time you ate/drank? Is this the first time pregnancy? Was it this bad before? Etc. And then I was wheeled over to “room” to receive fluids. Luckily I wasn’t AWFUL (I’m not kidding when I say I did things differently this time) and only needed 2 bags of fluids. I was pretty much expecting that outcome. What I wasn’t expecting, was the trouble to get blood work drawn and an IV put in. I knew the correlation between ease of finding a vein and hydration but it did not come to mind until the first nurse came over to grab blood. Three different location attempts and nothing. Grr. So she grabbed another girl. 2 location attempts and SUCCESS! Only problem was that in order for the IV to work, I had to hold veryyyyy still and keep my arm insanely straight or else the fluids would stop dripping and the IV machine (?) would start beeping. Talk about being a pain! But I figured anything to make things feel better, right? Right! So I lay there, doing nothing, watching the comings and goings of the ED, trying to grab the scoop of the couple on the other side of the curtain, by using mom as my interpreter (they only spoke Spanish and were there for some sort of cyst that was painful…lol yeah I’m nosey like that!). After a few hours my nurse comes back and says “sooo I have some good news and bad news: Good news, congrats you are in fact pregnant! Bad news, your blood sample coagulated and we need to take more.” MOTHER EFFER! Of course I was gracious and said, “Reallllly????” But she assured me they were going to get the “expert” on the floor to do it, since my veins were being problematic. And sure enough, a few minutes later a murse (male nurse) waltzed on it. “So you are going to try taking my blood?” and his response was something along the lines of “I’m not going to try, I’m going to be successful!” Just the winning spirit I liked to hear when someone was about to poke me for the bazillionth time. And true to his word, he was successful on his first try! Praise the Lord!! Granted he had a much more hydrated patient on his hands than any of the other nurses, but that’s neither here nor there. Now that that was taken care of, the only thing that stood between myself and freedom was a half bag of IV fluid. And so we waited…and waited… and hello, rotation change! Which brought on a new nurse. And she pops in and goes “so I haven’t checked your chart, what’s up?” As she starts fiddling with my IV. Not.OKAY. I was on my phone and was trying to hang up to respond but she waved me off saying I didn’t have to get off the phone… again while fiddling with the IV which was now beeping because she moved it from its finicky position. I tried to explain the ordeal, but she jumped in with “well that’s not supposed to be like that” (no sh*! Lady, I mean really?!) So what does she do but start sliding the iv farther out. At which point it stopped beeping and flowed like normal, but instead of not being able to feel it like before, it was burning and it felt painful. I told her and her comment was “well you only have less than a quarter of a bag left, is it really painful?” I said yes. So she fiddled again and essentially ended up pulling it out. I.Was.FUMING! No, “I’m sorry”. No, “oh no!” nothing other than “let me see what the Dr. wants to do.” What I wanted to do was biotch slap her! If only she had checked my info, maybe we wouldn’t be in this lil predicament, lady. Luckily the doctor was okay with the amount of fluid I received and although I still felt really nauseous, was at least hydrated. They sent me home with a lovely prescription of Phenergan to take every four hours in addition to the Zofran I was taking twice a day. Its times like that, that I get worried. A double prescription. What harm is it to the baby? Of course it’s on the “approved” list but that’s not a guarantee (of course what in life is?) but it still makes me nervous and made me feel guilty yet again that I needed to do be on medication. So many tears have been spilled from being sick. So much anger has been shouted in my mind, in my heart, both this pregnancy and the last, and so much aloneness has been felt. Very few understand. I think because of that I feel extreme empathy for anyone experiencing morning sickness, at any level through their pregnancy. I get upset at the people who brush it off like it’s just another cross us pregnant mama’s must bear, another symptom we must endure. No, it’s a lot more than that for a lot of women. It’s frustrating and overwhelming, and when people don’t say that to others, it perpetuates the stigma that we have to just grin and bear it in our own silent hell. I’m not saying we have to daily complain about pregnancy but all I am asking for is a bit of honesty. It is not the best time in life for every woman. And it’s interesting because the more honest we are about the hard and frustrating parts of pregnancy, the more often I find there are more ladies out there who would agree. And by no means does talking about this difficult side of pregnancy mean that we are ungrateful it just means that we are shedding light on the less talked about side of things. Because it is the times that you find yourself so alone, and so discouraged and so feeling like nobody understands, that having had those conversations makes you feel a bit less alone, a bit less discouraged and a bit more like someone else gets it.

Wk 12-17: Parts of this time period are a blur to me. Filled with some good days, some bad. Some puking, lots of gagging and constant nausea. Many tears were cried, many arguments had. Some days I showered, more often, I did not. Some days I worked from home, more often I went into the office. I had weeks of food trends. Salami, ham, jarlesburge cheese and croissants; Peanut butter and jelly; toast…always toast; eggs and sausage. There were food aversions: fruit, juice, pop, pizza – anything with red sauce, greasy/heavy foods and onions. There were holidays tossed in there: Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were quiet moments, there were loud moments, there was anger and there was hurt. Times of “I can do this!” and times of “Make this stop”. Some cuddles, exhaustion, kissies and huggies, and nausea…ohhh the nausea. But it’s over. Praise the Lord it’s so over. The feeling of looking at my meds and knowing I am okay, and no longer on them : PURE JOY! But through those weeks there was ALWAYS the support of my family (mom, dad, sisters, in-laws, aunts and uncles) who for sure prayed me through those dark days and weeks. They took turns watching Colty and making sure him and Alfie had a home cooked meal. They sent encouraging texts, emails, Facebook comments and messages and literally dragged me through those days and weeks when I would have never been able to make it on my own. And then there were my friends. Most close…most ladies I have known for years upon years, some I saw often and some only via Facebook, but still their encouraging words and stories and “I’ve been there too, and it blows” were soothing to my soul. So a BIG thank you goes out to all those family and friends. YOUR faith and YOUR kind encouragement carried me and my faith. And so we thankfully and joyfully move out of the “Dark Period” and into what I lovingly call: “The Hunger Games”

Baby #2 - First Trimester: Part 3

 

12/6 – 12wks4d. Still on meds, still sick, still tired. This morning was rough, emotionally. I find I have a lot of that these days, emotional days. Days when I just feel defeated. I feel discouraged and sad that I don’t have the get up and go of a normal person. I am thankful that this time at least I have the excitement of being pregnant. I know the end state and can believe that it will be worth it. That I at least have. With my first I didn’t. I had no end in sight. People would say it’ll be over at 12wks. 12wks came and went and I was still sick. I have more belief in myself this time. I know when I’m bad and will tell it like it is to the doctors. I put up with a lot the first time. This time I don’t force myself as much. i.dont.feel.good.i.am.not.joking. meaning, no amount of lame guilt, by family or friends will make me attend an event. What most don’t realize is that I have triggers beyond food and smells that make me feel worse. I feel the best laying down, in the dark, in the quiet. Believe it or not, sometimes the flickering of the TV makes things worse. Even with my eyes closed, it feels like I’m on a roller coaster. And loud gatherings with people competing to talk over each other just trigger nausea.

 

It’s interesting. Most people have never heard of Hyperemisis Gravidarum (HG) until recently. It is the diagnosis Kate Middleton was given a few weeks ago. It’s also the diagnosis I was given with Colton and again given with Baby #2. I am so thankful that with this time it wasn’t as bad as with Colton and I am also thankful that it was never as bad as so many other HG sufferers. So what is HG. In technical terms it means “excessive vomiting during pregnancy”. It is often diagnosed based on the following symptoms:

 

• Loss of 5% or more of pre-pregnancy body weight

• Dehydration, causing ketosis, and constipation

• Nutrition disorders

• Metabolic imbalances

• Physical and emotional stress of pregnancy on the body

 • Difficulty with activities of daily living

 

But what it means to many is life changing and long suffering. And beyond the physical, there are so many emotional struggles to deal with. “Why am I so sick? When will it subside? What can I keep down?” it is extremely overwhelming. No joke. I was telling my mom how easily things can trigger flashbacks to times of sickness with Colton. I can literally remember the feeling of puking certain foods (pizza, bananas and pickles are the worst), I can close my eyes and recall moments in flashback mode of the first and second time I was hospitalized, of numerous times I had to pull over while driving to call mom and cry, of having toilet water splash my face (at work and at home) of laying on the floor in the bathroom of crawling from one room to the next. It was literally hell to feel that way and even now it comes back in the blink of an eye.

 

I decided with both pregnancies that I would write through this time, because it helps me. And because it is an honest reflection of how I feel during an extremely tough time. I found that both times I have gotten pretty discouraged, I believe with Colton I was extremely depressed (scarily depressed) but with this one I did a lot of things different. I babied myself. I didn’t let work, friends, family, anyone guilt me into going someplace, doing something, nothing… my top priority was myself and resting. I think I fought more for myself this time instead of trying to do too much like last time. Unfortunately, how I feel is something I am constantly aware of. I am constantly checking my “status” of how I am, how nauseous I am and what I should eat. Every time I go to put something into my mouth I think “how will this sit”. Having been through this with Colton I can easily say that pregnancy was far worse, although for Alfie, this pregnancy is much harder on him, with an energetic 2 year old to take care of. The first was more emotional, more physically draining and more unexpected. This pregnancy it didn’t catch me off-guard. I was optimistic that it wouldn’t happen but knew my odds for having rough morning sickness that would progress into HG again were not in my favor. So now in week 15, I am using week 21 as my marker. I was better with Colty at that point, it’s gotta be better by then for this pregnancy, right? Evenings and early mornings are my tough time. Evenings because I am so exhausted from working all day, and mornings because of how I have slept or if I am too hungry. Some days I hate the thought of eating, for the pure reason of having to think through lists of food items that may or may not sit well. It makes me nervous. Some days I eat fine. The catch is that if I don’t eat I get REALLY nauseous and pukey, and then nothing sounds appetizing, so I have to force myself to eat. And I don’t like that feeling. But with this pregnancy I am trying to stay optimistic. I am trying to stay encouraged and not feel defeated. I am trying to be thankful and look at the humor in the vomiting and the humor in the discomfort, and the satisfaction in knowing that if God had chosen men to carry pregnancies, the human race would have been screwed! I also find comfort in knowing that while for me, this is so very hard, it is not as bad as others have had or as bad as it could have been. I could have more hospital visits, my babies health could have been in danger, I could have needed a PICC line (IV line that you wear home), there are so many things that are far worse, that I have to remind myself that my mountain, though very large for me, is really just a hill to so many people. And for that I am thankful.

Baby #2 - First Trimester: Part 2

11/7 – yesterday wasn’t good. And maybe everyone deals with this and it is just another crappy part of pregnancy, but for me it seems so overwhelming. How come more people don’t say how awful it is. How insanely exhausting it is to work, be a mom AND be pregnant? Praise the Lord that this time I am not puking as often, primarily just dry heaving, nauseous and so extremely tired. I know the exhaustion is the side effect of the medicine, but man sometimes my body just feels weak. But back to yesterday… all day I was nauseous… I felt like I ate a ton just to keep myself somewhat functioning and I threw up some of my fresh strawberries (gross). But it was the getting home part that was hard. I was home, trying to rest and great… I had to make dinner… something for Alfie and Colton and something different for myself. They were having pasta with red sauce that a dear friend brought over, but the heartburn from pizza (ie. The red sauce) kept me from enjoying it too. So I made plain noodles with chicken and broccoli for me…dinner of champions. The majority of the time Colton is asking to be picked up or wanting my attention and Alfie is …voting. And since he was voting and the polls swamped he asked me to warm up the sauce… sure cause lying on the couch hoping dinner would magically appear was clearly not an option. Thankfully he cleaned up the dishes and put everything away but I don’t think anyone understands how hard it is for me to not be helping out. To know that that burden will fall on Alfie. How difficult it is to watch Colton ask for me to play and for me to want the energy to sit and do a puzzle….its hard.

11/21 to 11/26(today) – Worst thanksgiving ever. I was able to eat but afterwards felt so sick. But lets back up. Wednesday was bad. Leigh was supposed to watch Colton that afternoon but wasn’t able to make it out and what a day for that to happen. I was in no shape to watch my own child. My body was shot, it is always shot, and I am not sure why. Anyways, luckily Susan was able to come over and really really helped out by taking care of Colty for me. That night was bad. I should have gone to the hospital, I know it. I know I needed fluids, but at 7pm we would have been in the ER for hours and what a toll that is on everyone, I just couldn’t do that to them so I sucked it up and went to bed early. Thanksgiving day was not much better. I woke up feeling gross. But we made it to moms. Unfortunately that’s as far as we got. We never made it out to the LoMags (I felt so guilty). What people don’t understand is a 10 min car ride is tough. A 20 min car ride is rough. And a 30 min car ride is torture. I can’t physically do that…on a good day. Now on a bad day, there is no way in hell I am subjecting myself to that.

It’s hard. I feel so guilty, like everything is my fault – Alfie being tired, Colton acting out, it’s all my fault. I can’t do anything. I read the other day that people use FMLA for their morning sickness and for a few minutes was hopeful until I remembered it is unpaid. We can’t do unpaid. I also feel like no one believes me. Like this is just me not being able to hack it. I read over and over information about HG to find some sort of solace that I am not crazy, that this is really happening to me, that this is not a joke or a figment of my imagination. And then there are the nurses who same thing, just chalk it up to pregnancy. But I’m sorry, when I can’t function, this is more than just morning sickness, I can barely take care of myself, let alone my home or my family.

It’s tough. I lie in bed at night and just feel so not myself. I don’t feel happy, I feel sad. I don’t feel excited I feel anxious. When will this end? How will it end? Will the baby be healthy? Am I doing more harm than good? There are so many scary thoughts and so many anxieties from last time. I didn’t think it stayed with me, I thought I had successfully moved on. But when little things cause big reactions or bigger fears, I know I haven’t gotten over last time. I think what the worst is, is that nobody really understands. I wish upon wish that people talked about this. That the doctors discussed it, that they told you about it and about how to treat it, that it wasn’t just morning sickness that they really were proactive for me. Many “survivors” of HG have PTSD. I don’t think I have that, but I for sure have lingering side effects. I get nervous and anxious a lot. “How will this sit in my stomach? Will this make me throw up? How bad will it feel coming back up? Do I want to throw this up? I better not eat it.” And that thought process is for every single thing I consider eating, that I see, or that I decide to eat. It is a similar thing for drinking. “Is this too fizzy? Will I burp and then gag? How will it sit? Does it have too much acid in it? Is it going to stay down?” It leaves me with a lot of anxiety… a lot of actual fear… a lot of sadness. Because the irony in this is I am hungry, so very hungry and so very thirsty, like living in the desert kind of thirsty. But the anxiety, the fear, the throwing up and nausea, both past and present make it hard to choose food and beverage every time, over playing it safe and not eating or drinking.

Apparently I am strong. Apparently I can endure. I have a hard time believing that but a wonderful mother who reminds me over and over when I feel I can’t do it, she reminds me. When I just want to be a defeated mess, she reminds me over and over. I need that. With Colton my lifeline was “Blessed be your name” and a recent favorite this year is “Hosanna: Praise is rising”. Both were sung on Sunday during worship and I made it through the first but couldn’t hold back the tears on the second. It was like those songs were just for me, just for my heart and just to remind me that God was in my past as he is in my present. My mind tells me I can’t do this but deep in my heart I know I have to. For me, for Alfie for Colton and for this precious life. I HAVE to be okay I HAVE to force myself when I don’t want to. Because that’s what we do, for our babies. We endure the hurt and the hardships so that they don’t have to. So that they can live pain free, hurt free and healthy. And so as with Colton, dear baby, this is my first gift to you. I WILL endure this. I WILL fight through. For you, for your tiny life that is knitted together in my womb by our loving heavenly Father. I will do this for you. Because I love you already. Because you are special to your mommy already.

Baby # 2 - First Trimester: Part 1

I hemmed and hawed over when to post these, and i thought, i might as well just get it over with. Again i blogged during the dreaded 1st trimester... In an effort to be real and honest these next 4 part blogs were my tears, my heart, and my thoughts from those early weeks....
So when Alfie and I found out we were pregnant, based on the LMC I was about 6 wks. We found out on a Wednesday and I got into the doctors to confirm by urine test by Friday. A-okay. Feeling good! I was so hopeful that this pregnancy would be much MUCH different than the last, no nausea, no vomiting. When I was at the doctors, they scheduled me for my 8wk appointments. One with the nurse to go over how the OB office worked and then the OB complete physical with the PA. By the time I went in to meet with the nurse I was starting to have bouts of nausea, okay all day nausea. But hey I wasn’t puking right? And man I was 8 wks, I could hang on for 4 more, right? So a few days after the nurse visit was the OB complete and they do the usual annual gyno visit complete with an attempt to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. So she tried and hmmm, nothing. Which she explained was not unusal given the size of the baby and the how difficult it can be to find it. But she offered me to option to either wait until my 12 week appointment or go for an ultrasound. And ofcourse I jumped at the chance to go for an ultrasound and ease any nerves. And WOO HOO they could even squeeze me in that day! So I sat with my snacks in hand on the waiting room bench until they called my name, an hour later. I laid on the ultrasound techs table and anxiously waited to see the little tiny blob appear on the screen. It does, and she finds it to start measuring. Hmmm, she says, how confident are you on your dates? I said “mehh, okay”. There is a couple week window of when it conception could have occurred. And she proceeded to tell me the baby is measuring 6wks 5 days instead of almost 9. In my head I was thinking “are you freaking kidding me?!?!” Counting back meant that Alfie and I found out at 4wks again, which made our first pregnancy feel like forever, and I am sure would make this one feel about the same. She went on to continue measuring and then measuring the heartbeat and with the confirmation of a strong steady heartbeat (consistant with a 6wk 5d baby), said all is well. She handed me a photo of the bambino and I was headed into work. Now while I was extremely happy that the baby was healthy, I was more than bummed that we were not as far along, and that I was about right around the time when I was starting to feel sick with Colton. Such was the same with baby #2. The nausea has gotten worse each day, and going from no puking to dry heaving often, made me miserable. I am trying to stay optimistic that this one will be different, but already being back on the meds at the end of week 7 was not an encouragement. I felt like a failure once again. I was discouraged that I couldn’t take it. That my pregnancy yet again was beinging to change me. That I couldn’t be fully present and functional for Colton and Alfie and that my sickness was effecting Alfie. It sucks. What people don’t realize is that I feel like a failure, like a wimp. Like people will look at me as if I just can’t do it so I resort to meds, taking the easy way out. There is a lot of emotional baggage that comes with being put back on medicine. A bit of fear, for the baby, fear for myself, fear that it will get as bad as it did last time.

It's been a while...

Confession: It’s been 1 full year since I posted a blog.


I say posted, because in my defense, I have been blogging (okay more like journaling in MS Word), I just haven’t posted anything. No worries, it will make its way up eventually, but anywho! So what has happened in my year long sabbatical? This time last year…good Lord, I can’t even remember what I did this time last year! Im blaming my age. Ya know, once you hit 30, everything just starts shutting down…right? Well last year was filled with different things, some good, some not so good, some mehh. But for the most part it was a good year. I spent time with my favorite little Colty, watching him grow and learn and try new things. I enjoyed spending time with my niece Maddie, and loved seeing her intelligence grow. I spent a lot of time with mamsita, Christy and Susan as we prepped for Susan’s much anticipated wedding to Blue Eyes! I made new friends, I deepend relationships with old friends. I laughed (a lot). I cried (occasionally). I worked on my relationship with my dad *sigh*. I crafted. I drew closer to the Lord. I had snarky moments. I had kind moments. And oh yeah, Alfie knocked me up (yeaaahhh buddy!). And yet I didn’t blog. At.all. I know. I'm bad.

But on my first post back, I would like to dedicate it to (and brag on) some fabulous women… My Triple C girls. That’s my (I say mine because them b’s be mine, make your own dang group if you wanna craft, this one is too special to share!!) pimpin’ craft group that meets once a month every month for almost 2 years now. We are a hodge podge of ladies from all walks of life: stay at home mommies, teachers, designers, engineers, photographers, project managers etc. but each one crafty in her own way and each one brings a special spark to the group. The best part is not all of us knew each other before hand but wow how fun it’s been to seen relationships build, advice given and received, ideas shared, hearts opened and so much laughter heard over the course of these months. I know each lady challenges me to be a better wife, a better mommy, and a better friend. They know that sometimes fast food and tv is a totally acceptable form of healthy dinner and family activity. They know (and can advise) how best to take an office poo (lol shout out to last craft night). They accept (and humor me) during my “lets make everything dir-tay” moments. They talk about the not so glamourous side of pregnancy… can we say sore boobs, ‘roids, heartburn, body aches and moodiness, anyone? And ofcourse there is never any judgement when I we stuff my our faces on the delicious snacks people bring.

So Triple C ladies (you know who you be) this is for you! My first blog post back in a year, a little rusty, but it’s a start. Thanks for the encouragement to get back on it and ride it hard… that’s what she said.