Jun 19

due date (and dog hair)

Jun 19

I remember when they first told me my due date, it seemed so far away. June 18th? 2014? I remember thinking, “How will I ever make it to that day?” Well, now that day is here, and I’m both overly prepared and not ready in the least.

Funny story though: as much as we were fixated on this day for the past 9 months, it may not be entirely accurate. At one of my perinatal appointments, a doctor made the offhand comment that it was weird they were using my LMP to calculate due date since I was an IVF patient. I guess I just never questioned how it was being determined. The due date of 6/18 comes from my 9/11 LMP, but when I went online and found a special IVF pregnancy due date calculator and put in the 5-day blast transfer date of 9/28, it came out with a due date of 6/16. Which means she’s been late since Monday. Whatever. Either way she’s not here yet and there’s not much I can do about it.

Several times a day I try to wrap my head around the fact that I’m about to meet my daughter, and that my life will never be the same again. Yes, I’m feeling impatient, but I’m also feeling so overwhelmed with emotion that it takes my breath away. And yes, I can wait a few more days. No matter what, she is on her way. She will be here by Monday at the absolute latest. That is INSANE.

For someone freaking out over not being ready a couple weeks ago, now I think I’m way too ready, and it’s making me do strange and obsessive things. For example: we have two dogs, one of whom is a serious shedder. Not the Golden Retriever with the long, luscious blonde coat – oh, no. The culprit here is the little mutt with the short, wiry white hairs that fall out constantly and stick to everything. The couch. Our clothes. The rug. Everything. Everywhere. Usually dog hair bothers me in an offhand way, and I vacuum once a week (or even stretch it to 10 days), but for some reason it has become the bane of my existence as of late. Like, I’ve been vacuuming DAILY (unheard of). Eric is convinced I’ve lost my mind, and maybe that’s true. Last night, about 20 minutes after my nightly vacuuming session, I took it one step further. He was in the kitchen when this interaction transpired.

(from the living room): SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK!

Eric: “AMANDA! what are you doing in there?”

(from the living room): SQUEAK! SQUEAK!

Amanda: “…nothing” SQUEAK!

Eric: “I swear to God, if you are lint rolling the couch…”

Amanda: “I’m not lint rolling the couch.” SQUEAK!

“I’m not.” SQUEAK!”

Amanda: “…OK. I’m definitely lint rolling the couch.”

This is my life, folks.

I’m half tempted to just shave the damn dog. The Furminator does a great job getting rid of the undercoat, but even daily brushing does nothing to reduce the endless piles of hair. I get inexplicably angry when I see Eric’s black athletic shorts and black hat covered in little white hairs. The couch is dark green, so the hair stands out offensively. And I don’t know, at this moment the thought of bringing my baby home into a den of dog hair is just yucky, and furthermore, inexcusable. I cannot abide it.

I THINK that my brain is picking a problem of a manageable size (dog hair) and focusing on that, rather than dealing with the real issue at hand, which is so huge that it really can’t be conceptualized (a baby is coming. A real, live, human person is coming to live with us forever. Also, that person is going to painfully extract herself from my body).

But also, the dog hair is gross.

I need more lint rollers. Preferably ones that don’t squeak so I can indulge my secret obsessions privately.

More likely than not, this will be my last post before THE POST. So, the next time I check in, I don’t think I’ll be worrying too much about dog hair anymore. Or maybe I will. I have no idea. I’m freaking out.

OMG.

Jun 15

“no, not yet.”

Jun 15

People keep texting me.

“Any news? Any Molly? Anything happening???”

And…no.

I know they’re all just excited. But technically, we haven’t even hit DD yet. I’m a wee bit disappointed because as I think I’ve mentioned, I really liked the idea of Father’s Day. All of the girls in my family are born on Sundays, so it will be weird if she comes on a different day. But maybe it’ll just be the start of a new tradition.

On Friday morning at my weekly checkup, my blood pressure was high. This has kind of been the trend – the nurse takes it when I first get there, it’s pretty high, then the doctor comes in a few minutes later and takes it again. For whatever reason it usually goes down in that amount of time and they just caution me about preeclampsia warning signs and confirm that I don’t have any. This time, however, the numbers were high enough (though she didn’t tell me exactly what or I forgot) that I got sent over to the hospital for monitoring and blood work.

It felt like things were happening because I was going to the hospital. I got checked into triage on the labor and delivery floor, I got to wear the fun fetal heart rate monitor and listen to my little love chugging away in there. I put everyone on alert. It was Friday the 13th. It was a full moon. Mercury was in retrograde (I have no idea what that means). Oh, and my house was a mess, there were dishes in the sink, and I hadn’t shaved my legs. I had prepared to go to work for the day, not go have a baby. It seemed like this would definitely be it.

Nope! Eric left work early and was literally on his way to the hospital when they cut me loose, with a BP of 118/79. I don’t know why it fluctuates so wildly, but it’s very annoying. So I missed day of work for nothing (and they’re probably going to be confused to see me tomorrow). I guess it was kind of good – Eric went to some beer festival yesterday, and since he had pre-purchased his tickets at least those didn’t go to waste. My mom and I went to an outlet mall and walked around for a few hours, trying to coax her out. I debated the merits of castor oil (though ultimately decided against it).

So that’s really it… nothing to report. Still only 1/2 cm dilated. No cramps. No contractions. Lotssss of movement and discomfort – it feels like my stomach is a giant balloon that’s about to burst, and it’s just very crammed in there. Like I ate a huge meal or something, but a thousand times worse than that. It’s not the heat that’s bothering me. It’s this huge belly that’s more uncomfortable than anything. Also, the disappointment of having nothing to report every time someone asks.

I talked it over Friday with my OB/GYN and we agreed to schedule induction for Monday, June 23rd, so we’d go to the hospital next Sunday night on June 22nd. It makes me feel better to have an end in sight (It’s ridiculous, but part of me feels like I’m just going to be pregnant forever). So no matter what, by this time next week, we will be on our way. My whole family, including my mom who is a required attendant at the blessed event, is going camping next weekend. That’s why I just assume I’ll start labor on my own on Saturday night, when it’s highly inconvenient for her. She’s only going an hour away, so she’ll make it in time, but still I would essentially be ruining her camping trip. Oh, well.

I have a list of things to add last minute to my hospital bag, and my laptop is on there! I promise to do a quick update once she makes her big debut.

Maybe she just really wants to be a Cancer and not a Gemini. Maybe she’s waiting for summer. I don’t know! I’m just very impatient and very excited and very, very nervous.

Jun 10

a nursery for Molly

Jun 10

Two days shy of 39 weeks and the nursery is finished. I told you we’d be cutting it close.

Ready? Here we go.

First, the crib. Last night my good friend (and talented artist) Ashley was here until 2 am painting a custom mural on the wall (that’s the tree). She was the one who did the sweet dreams owl in the corner, too. As I mentioned before, the crib belonged to my little sister Alessandra and I’ve been waiting a looong time to finally use it. I scored the rocking chair in my sister’s basement. It doesn’t really match, but it’s incredibly comfortable, and best of all… FREE!

I am obsessed with this antique cradle! My grandmother actually found it at a yard sale and gave it to my sister, but again, it was just sitting in her basement. The moment I saw it, I knew I had to have it. It’s not really practical to use for the baby, but I like it as a stuffed animal holder.

The closet. I can’t even handle the tiny dresses hanging there. Is this real life?

Bookshelf/artwork area.

OK, now this part is funny. So you might have noticed from these pictures that I kind of have a theme going here – mint green, white, pink, gray. Soft, pastel colors. Soothing. Well, at the baby shower my mom’s cousin got us these bright, primary colored floor mat tiles and I remember thinking, “Hmmm…I do not remember registering for these.” But then when I got home from the shower and we were going through all the gifts, Eric got SO excited that he got the tiles. Apparently he had gone rogue with the scanner and I never noticed! I tried to argue that they don’t match (at all) and that they’re kind of masculine, really, but he immediately disagreed and said he confirmed that the child pictured on the packaging was a girl (and triumphantly proved this to me by shoving the packaging in my face). He insisted that he picked them because Molly would love the bright colors. The clashing bothered me at first, but he is so proud of these damn tiles that I just have to let it go. That’s why our nursery is 98% coordinated, 2% not at all coordinated. Pick your battles, right? (And perhaps discreetly tone down the brightness with a strategically placed puppy play mat).

I love this little corner. The Star Wars prints are perfect (thanks, Aunt Sarah!) and that lamp was a total score for $17 at Hobby Lobby (officially my new favorite store). The changing table/dresser combo is the other part of the set from Allie’s old nursery.

There you have it! We have a nursery.

I had an appointment today and let’s just say… no progress. My OB/GYN tried to be encouraging and reassure me that it can happen really quickly with your first, but in the next breath she was saying things like, “scheduled induction.” Who knows.

At least now I can say I feel mostly ready for her to get here. Mostly.

Jun 03

home stretch

Jun 03

I can’t believe it’s June.

I’m really trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m due to have a baby in 17 days. Seventeen days! I started doing that thing where I relate it to the mundane tasks I’m doing – as in, “The next time I purchase new face wash, I’ll have a baby,” or “The next time I have to refill the sugar bowl, she’ll be here.” We haven’t quite reached the point of, “the next time I put gas in my car…” or, “the next time I buy milk,” but we are close. Very close.

I have a lot of random thoughts, so I’m just gonna do bullet points. Lately my mind has been on a constant loop day and night and I literally have to carry around a handwritten list of “things to remember” so I don’t go insane. Physically, I feel like I’m 87 years old. Mentally, I’m more similar to a 20-something that just did a few lines and drank a pot of coffee. It’s an interesting combination.

-I’m very sick and miserable. It started out as a common cold (or maybe allergies??) with just a lot of congestion and subsequent congestion headaches, but now has become a hacking cough/super sore throat due to the post nasal drip (gross, I know). As if it wasn’t hard enough to get a few hours of sleep here and there.

source.

-That “burst of energy at the end” thing totally exists. I no longer have any desire for naps on the weekends, and would much prefer to rush around the house completing random, urgent tasks such as vacuuming the ceilings of every room (true story). I can see why women tend to go on maternity leave before the baby arrives – sitting at a desk working for 9 hours per day Monday through Friday seems like such a waste when there are ALL THE THINGS to do at home. Plus, it doesn’t really help that when I am at home tackling my endless to-do list, I have to keep stopping to take breaks because of the physical strain of gettin’ stuff done. I’ve also had a bunch of events these past few weekends (picnics, dance recitals, book club) that took up some time and energy. The good news is that this coming weekend my calendar is totally clear. I guess that means there will be lots of ceiling vacuuming in the near future.

-I’ve been banished from the bedroom. Well, sort of. Every night Eric gives me the option of couch or bed, but he now refuses to sleep next to me because I toss and turn and get up too many times in the middle of the night to pee (I think I’m up to like 5 or 6 times per night now. It’s preposterous). Anyway, it’s been keeping him up and making him cranky at work from being so tired, so alas we had to part ways. I’m actually more comfortable on the couch for some reason, plus there’s a TV out in the living room to keep me company. It’s kind of nice to have it on low volume in the background, which is weird for me, because I’m one of those people who HATES when TVs are just on and no one is watching them. Ugh! That’s partly why I established the bedroom as a TV-free zone, because in our apartment I used to hate when he fell asleep with it on all the time. But right now, at least, I find the background chatter soothing since I can’t really sleep anyway. The one downfall to this is that the infomercials have me convinced that I need SEVERAL items. Every morning I tell Eric what my latest obsession is (this morning it was the Dessert Bullet). Luckily for him and our bank account, I’m way too lazy/beached-whale-like to actually go get my credit card and order any of these things at 4am. But I do fall for it each and every time.

-The nursery is still not finished, but it’s MUCH, MUCH closer. My friend came over and helped me do stuff on Saturday (thanks, Ash!!), plus Eric brought the furniture down from the attic and set it all up. I’m not taking photos until it’s all the way finished – art on the walls, clothes folded, ready for action finished. But don’t worry. I think that day will get here soon. Dare I say… sooner than she gets here?

-I’ve been going to the perinatal center monthly for growth scans, which started to seem a bit unnecessary, but at least it was an excuse to get some of those awesome 4D ultrasound images. Anyway, Eric and I are total weirdos and like to joke that “maybe she’s not our kid” since it’s IVF and all and technically that could happen. Since the majority of the patients at New Hope are of Asian descent, I think it would be obvious fairly quickly. But I think about this pretty often – what WOULD we do if that really happened?

Anyway, I don’t think I have to worry about it because at her last growth scan, everything was measuring perfectly right on time except for one thing…her legs were measuring 3 weeks behind. So proportionally, her legs are short for her body. And this is the part where I mention that while I have a torso comparable to a friend who is 5’5, I am only 5’1 because of – you guessed it – my short legs. For some reason it was incredibly reassuring/adorable to hear that she’s just like me in this respect.

I guess that’s all for now. I’m just gonna say it again… I cannot frickin’ believe it’s finally June.

The next time I flip my calendar, I’ll have a baby. Damn.

May 19

POP! goes the baby shower

May 19

My baby shower was on Saturday.

Though it feels inaccurate to describe it that way. Baby downpour, perhaps? I wasn’t showered with love and gifts. I truly feel that I was deluged. I’m still overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and generosity of my friends and family. It was too much! Plus, blog-based burnt toast gifts? I mean… come on!! Everyone is just too kind.

It really made me think. I’m sure if I had been fertile and I would have had a baby shower years ago, it would have been lovely. I would have been happy. We would have received nice stuff. But this… I mean, with all we went through, and with everyone following along with the drama every step of the way, this felt like finally getting to where we were headed. People weren’t excited… they were ecstatic. They weren’t happy for us… they were overjoyed. Every emotion was heightened to an extreme because it’s been SO LONG and we wanted it SO MUCH. So again, not that I’m happy for being infertile, but in a way it just made everything super dramatic, and yes, incredibly, inexplicably happy.

But pictures are worth a thousand words, right? So below I snapped photos of the decor, along with some of the gifts.

The theme and the decorations are all courtesy of my sister, who everyone agrees has missed her calling as party planner. She did such a good job. It was beautiful. The theme was POP! – complete with homemade popcorn favors and cake pops and plenty of other pop stuff. It worked, too, because I do look about ready to pop.

so pop

A table of pop!

pop games

what’s a shower without a diaper cake?

pop favors

me and pro party planner, Ashley

I was “that girl” who probably bored everyone to tears opening gifts for like three hours. But she got a MOUNTAIN of stuff. I mean… just know that each of these bags is full to bursting with stuff. And suffice it to say she will be a thousand times more well-dressed than I, and has enough clothes that she’ll never need to wear the same thing twice. Like, ever.

mountains of presents

Every gift was special and amazing. Here are a few.

First things first – I GOT MY PETUNIA PICKLEBOTTOM DIAPER BAG!! Wooo hoo!

Hand painted art from a dear friend:

Star Wars stuff to make daddy happy:

Ok, here’s a good one. Despite how overwhelmed I was, I managed not to cry. Until, of course, I pulled out a picture my sister made to honor the babies I lost to miscarriage. AND she thought it was a good idea to give it to me during this event. Yeah, I freaking lost it, sobbing, with everyone staring at me. Oh, well.

And then there was the TOAST STUFF! My friend Sarah even custom designed onesies to match my blog. How thoughtful is that?! I’m already planning multiple photo shoots for all of these items.

Finally, they pulled out a gift from Eric. I’ve never heard of that before – the husband buying his wife a gift. And this was so thoughtful and considerate… I had just seen nursing necklaces the other day on zulily, and they sound awesome! So the fact that he got them handmade on Etsy… and the card…I managed to hold back the waterworks this time, but just barely. He scored major points for this one.

So that was it. The most amazing day. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more excited about her arrival…

Due date: one month from today.

We are so, so blessed.

May 16

Friday night caption contest!

May 16

Ever go through a bunch of old photos on Facebook just for fun? I do. And I found this gem below.

This was take in June of 2011, and that’s me with the BITCHY look on my face, and the full cup of vodka and Diet Coke right in front of me. The pregnant person I’m sitting next to is Rachel, Eric’s cousin’s wife, who had come up to hang out and play cards on our Father’s Day weekend camping trip. She’s about a month away from her due date here and only now can I appreciate how miserable she must be in the heat.

I just find it funny because I always thought I was hiding my emotions quite well, but clearly I never could. And Rachel – if you ever noticed me making this face at you – I’m SORRY! It has more to do with me than with you.

So tell me – any caption suggestions? :)

May 12

on this day

May 12

Hope everyone survived May 11, 2014 relatively unscathed.

You know, I was really impressed with the way my church handled things today. And last year, for that matter.

First of all, during the homily the priest made it a point to mention that we should take a moment today to think of the women who want nothing more than to be mothers, and who may not have any children. Then they took things a step further during the Supplication part when we prayed for specific things (Followed up with a “Lord, hear our prayer.”) One of the supplications today was, and I quote, “For all women struggling with the pain of infertility, that their hearts may find comfort and that their prayers may be answered…LORD, HEAR OUR PRAYER.”

It was nice. We were recognized.

Last year, they had all the mothers stand up. This might have been awkward as I had just suffered my miscarriage and was gearing up for IVF round two. But then the priest clarified, “And when I say mothers, I mean can all of the mothers, grandmothers, godmothers, aunts, or anyone who has ever shown love and motherly compassion towards a child please stand and be honored.”

Pretty cool. I felt OK standing up. I’m definitely a godmother, an aunt, and I’ve definitely mothered children. And yeah, this year I might be more noticeably a mother, but I’m no more a mother than I was last year.

So on this day, I want to continue that tradition. Because whether or not you’ve physically birthed a child makes no difference. We are the mothers – the ones who have mothered a child, any child at all, or even the ones who have longed to.

This is our day.

Apr 30

it’s gonna be MAY

Apr 30

Notes from 33 weeks:

– At my last OB/GYN appointment I scheduled all of the rest of my appointments…for the entire pregnancy. Seriously surreal.

are my arms really that fat?

– Over the weekend I went on a hike (not an intense uphill climb, mind you, but a moderately difficult walk in the woods that a 3-year-old could easily complete) and had to spend half a day recovering from it.

– Exhaustion has hit – big time. My naps even need naps. Not that I can take naps, of course. But I fantasize about them every waking (sleepy) minute.

– I’m about 95% sure I have SPD (symphsis pubis dysfunction) also known as PGP (pelvic girdle pain), which is a harmless yet excruciatingly painful condition. I’m usually fine all day long, but once I get into bed at night I feel these intense shooting pains up and down my inner thighs and groin area, sort of like I just did a 6 hour workout without stretching beforehand. It gets so bad that in the middle of the night when I get up to pee, I almost fall over because my legs have totally tensed up. Turning over (a frequent occurrence throughout the night) is excruciating. The constant waves of pain make it hard to sleep. I can’t stand on one leg (which you don’t realize is important until it’s time to put on pants) and getting in and out of the car is harder than it should be. It’s really bad. Anyone else have experience with this at all?

I’m not really sure why I imagine myself exempt from these basic pregnancy realities. It’s hard because I still think of myself as a young, fit, active girl who can complete all her daily activities with little to no modification. But alas, my body protests. If I keep my feet down for any stretch of time longer than an hour, I can literally feel the fluid building up and my ankles and calves becoming rock hard. My best friend in the world these days is my little prop stool at work that allows me to keep my feet up all day long. Without it, I’d be a miserable mess with gigantic elephant feet that don’t fit into shoes. As it is, I’m already flirting with that title.

But it’s not all bad. It’s almost May, my favorite month of the year! Time is seriously going to fly soon, which is both good and bad. Good because I want the baby out now (and I anticipate this feeling is just going to multiply by a thousand as the weeks go on) and once May is over, it’s June. Also, May has my birthday, my baby shower, my anniversary, and a few other fun events sprinkled in that I’ve been looking forward to for a while now. March dragged. April took forever. But now there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

Speaking of – the bathroom enjoys slow, but beautiful progress. This was a total gut job, and included everything from complete rewiring to moving walls and doors and plumbing. So yeah, it’s not finished yet… not even close. Thankfully, the shower IS operational, so no more field trips to my parent’s house to bathe. Plus it’s kind of nice when I’m behind the shower curtain because I can imagine my pretty, shiny new bathroom totally complete (that is, until I open the curtain again).

The bathroom, or lack thereof, isn’t stressing me out as much as the hindrance it is making on the nursery project. What was once an empty room is now a catchall for uninstalled sinks, contractor tools, linen closet contents, and at least 200 travel-sized shampoos and body lotions (you should have heard Eric yelling at me when he discovered my stash. Truly, I have an addiction to stealing these from hotels). There’s no way we can paint or set up in that mess, so it would seem that there’s no way to start the nursery until the bathroom is done. And now, heavy (emphasis on HEAVY) with child and frantically realizing that OMG, MAY IS THE MONTH RIGHT BEFORE JUNE, that’s starting to become worrisome. Eric? 100% not concerned. Most people I lament this to? Also, unconcerned. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the phrase, “Oh, you won’t use the nursery for the first few months anyway.” And yes, I KNOW this. I don’t expect her to be sleeping in her crib on our first night home from the hospital. However, tackling painting and setting up and all that stuff with a (cranky? colicky? needy?) newborn strapped to my chest sounds vastly less appealing than tackling it now, when her biggest disruption to my day is a bout of the hiccups. Plus, all of the clothes I’ve gotten so far are piled in a corner, unwashed, unsorted, and decidedly far from organized. I’m sure after the baby shower I’ll have even more stuff to sort. So no, I don’t NEED to have the nursery done before she arrives. But I’d like to. I’d really, really like to.

I’ve gone from envying the baby bumps of complete strangers to envying the anonymous message board posts from the “June Babies Group” on the What to Expect website. Every other post these past few weeks has been all like, “Nursery pics!” and “Check out my nursery!” and “FINALLY putting the finishing touches on the nursery, just need to hang one last picture frame and I’m D-O-N-E!” and it’s making me all bitter and jealous. But then I remember, no, Amanda, please keep yourself gracious and be thankful that you’re having a baby at all. Last year at this time, would I have complained? Over something so silly as not having the nursery done? No. It’s all about perspective. Just a few days ago I was driving home from work and feeling her kicks and all of the sudden I just started sobbing because holy shit, my daughter exists and I get to meet her soon and she’s actually right there in my lap at all times. Yeah. Pregnancy hormones are fun.

What else? Nothing much. Still boring, and glad to be boring. Not that I want anything bad to happen, (duh), but I kind of miss the days of yore when every post would have like 30 comments and we all got to interact and stuff. I miss my blog friends! Now I’m noticing that the unofficial group of girls I’ve been following for over a year now has been posting less and less frequently (with a few exceptions, of course, and to you I say thanks)… a lot of them have had babies, or aren’t doing much fertility-wise, or have disappeared under mysterious circumstances… it makes me sad. And while I haven’t left much room for comments because nothing I say really needs/deserves a reply, still I selfishly want to keep the conversations going. I wonder if anyone is still reading. And to those of you who are, thank you, and please don’t feel like you need to say something just to say it. That’s not what I mean at all. I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic and want to know what’s going on in all of your lives, because hey, blogging makes you slightly voyeuristic whether you like it or not. And to the very, very few people who manage to blog almost every day – I appreciate you, I respect you, and I’m in awe of you. My goal is a post a week and I fail at that most of the time.

That’s about it. See you in a week (maybe).

Apr 18

tum ta tum tums

Apr 18

So far, besides a very slight amount of morning sickness that was mostly just me trying to play up the severity of my symptoms for my own peace of mind, I’ve gotten through this pregnancy with very few negative side effects. The worst of these has been excessive weight gain (and in conjunction, the alarming appearance of stretch marks), which I’m kind of just filing away “to deal with later when I can diet and exercise and ingest nothing but ice cube smoothies for a few weeks.” That is, until the third trimester reared her ugly head. Now I’m suffering the torment of…INDIGESTION (dun dun dun!).

It’s kind of funny, and reminds me of the one and only time I suffered seasonal allergies. That probably lasted about a week. I remember calling my mom and saying, “I wake up with a stuffy nose and all this congestion, then it gradually fades throughout the day, then it comes back in the morning! What is wrong with me? Do I have a cold or not?” She laughed at me, and explained that yes, I was experiencing allergy symptoms, and how could I be so dense as to not recognize that when such a large part of the population suffers the same, especially in our pollen-laden geographical location. That’s sort of how I feel about indigestion. Like oh, I’ve seen 9 billion commercials for antacids and my husband laments his acid reflux after basically every meal, but still it took me a few days to comprehend what was happening. And now, oh, the torment!

It keeps me awake and plagues my entire day. It’s so uncomfortable! At first I sat there just kind of accepting the pain until one recent day when I discovered the magic of Tums. Now I pop those suckers like candy. No, they’re not just cleverly disguised Necco wafers – Tums are the antidote to all that ails! I had no idea. Magical, chalky little magicians, they are.

I suppose as symptoms go, this one isn’t so bad. I would definitely take this over morning sickness.

Also! Now that I’ve officially been off gluten for more than 7 months, I’ve been wondering what my reaction will be once I eat it again (I think maybe I’ve mentioned this before?). Since I’m not entirely convinced I even have a gluten intolerance, it should be interesting to see if anything happens. Well, yesterday, seeing as I was on a healthful eating kick AS USUAL, I went to Wendys for lunch and got an order of chili cheese fries. I did check ahead of time – their chili is gluten free, their cheese is gluten free, and their fries I have had before, even though they’re fried in the same oil as some breaded items, so they’re technically not GF. I’ve never been very stringent with things like cross-contamination, and I order French fries everywhere I go and never have reacitons. BUT, I will mention that yesterday was my first time specifically getting the chili cheese fries from Wendys (how I missed this on the menu prior to then is beyond me). Within 10 minutes of eating my glorious meal, I was struck down with the most intense headache of my life. Like, I wanted to bury my head in the sand ostrich-style, and possibly even die. It was definitely a food reaction headache, but why? I have no idea. My guess is that the fryer oil did have breading in it this time, and it touched my fries. When I told Eric about the whole event, his first question was, “How’s the baby?” which I found adorable. At this point I think she’s past the point of being affected by a tiny smidgen of gluten, though it was scary for a minute when I realized what I had done. Luckily she’s still kicking away in there (and during my indegestion episode last night at 1 am, incessantly hiccupping. Which is not conducive to sleep at all. But at least I had 2048 on my phone to keep me well occupied).

Can we please take note of how I am literally telling indigestion and food allergy stories on my blog right now? Is this seriously what my life has become? I’m sorry. If you’re still reading this and haven’t keeled over from boredom, I am eternally grateful. Any day now we’ll turn a corner and I’ll have more intriguing things to say.

Just one more (hopefully slightly more interesting) thing – today is my little sister Alessandra’s 9th birthday, which is pretty insane to think about. I am so proud of the young lady she has become. I thought I was pretty clever stealing a photo of her from a recent Easter photo shoot to post on my Facebook, and then as per usual, my other sister one-upped me with an adorable photo collage. I seriously can’t win with her; she always finds cuter pics to post. Oh well… I’ll just shamelessly repost what she made and admit my defeat to her superior photo finding skills. Here it is:

Mar 24

every kick is a triumph

Mar 24

You know how when you’re really, really, sick and then you get better and for those first couple of days immediately after you just totally appreciate feeling well? And then of course it fades and you start taking it for granted again, but in that brief window of time, you just experience gratitude for every snot-free sniffle, every deep breath with no cough, every meal without nausea, every pain-free joint and every energy-filled moment?

Well, to some extent I’m taking aspects of this pregnancy for granted, as human beings (yes, even infertiles) are destined to do. It’s very hard to stay 100% grateful every moment of every day. But the one exception to this reality is when it comes to kicks.

I use the term “kicks” loosely to include any and all movement, including blips, punches, butt bumps, head butts, and bladder sits. I have a very active girl on my hands here, and literally every single time I feel her move, even the tiniest of tiny bits, I stop and say, “Thank you.”

It’s crazy, and it’s time-consuming. But seriously, the whole movement thing totally blows my mind. At any given time, I am either saying silent prayers of thanksgiving for her solid, strong kicks or saying silent prayers of pleading if it’s been too long since I’ve felt anything (it’s never more than an hour, but this is one aspect of my anxiety that I can’t seem to shake). Hands down, kicks are the number one best thing about being pregnant so far. I may bitch and moan about weight gain and pains and stretch marks and waddling when I walk, but for this one thing – well, this is just as good, or perhaps even better than I imagined.

The kicking is impossible to tune out and ignore. I could seriously just sit around all day and feel it – press on my belly and jiggle it to make it happen, or lay on my right side to really get her going. It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about as I’m falling asleep. Whenever I’m stressed about anything, I sit back, take a moment, and pay close attention to her kicks.

Plus it’s really, really obvious, and it certainly makes me question shows like “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant.” I’ve never actually seen an episode, but to some extent I can understand that very obese or very tall and thin pregnant women might not really “show.” So ok, let’s say you’re one of those women who just does not look pregnant. What I want to know is, how do those women explain this feeling of fetal movement? On Wednesday I’ll be 28 weeks, and from what everyone says, the movement I’m feeling now will only increase in frequency and intensity as time goes on. In my (albeit limited) experience, it’s a completely foreign, magical, observable, joyous feeling when your baby kicks you. How could anyone not notice?

Each of her kicks is like a one-sided conversation:

Kick! – “I’m here, mom!”
Kick! – “I’m healthy!”
Kick! – “I’m still alive and thriving!”
Kick! – “Hey there, mama…I’ll be out before you know it!”

Oh, it’s so great. It’s really, really, great.

So anyway, this weekend was fun. I never did make it to Ben & Jerry’s because the mountain pass is closed during the winter, so traveling the distance of a few miles would have taken over an hour because you had to go all the way around. Go figure.

But the resort had a B&J scoop shop, and honestly that was enough for me. I love how going away for the weekend really does wonders to reignite a relationship, or at least it does for us. I think it has to do with our moods in general – we’re less stressed, so we bicker less, and inevitably we end up being nicer to each other all around. I like us on vacation, and even in the couple of days afterwards before we remember to be snippy and rude to each other again. KIDDING. (Sort of).

Eric’s two friends came along with us (another reason we get along so well, because the two of us relate with each other better when we’re in a group. Weird, but true). We got to talking about infertility and all that jazz, and for some reason the topic turned to what may have caused it in the first place. I think I’ve mentioned before that Eric had a hernia when he was a little boy, and we think that may be the reason for his low SA numbers. It got me going on that whole “what might have been” line of thinking.

Let’s say the hernia never happened. Let’s say that really is the “cause” of our infertility. How would things be different? Without going into detail and embarrassing him too much, I’ll say that my husband definitely got around to sowing his wild oats before we got together… like, a lot. And chances are he wasn’t always 100% careful (OK, he definitely wasn’t). So without the hernia that potentially caused infertility and therefore built-in birth control, he probably would have had a child long before we conceived this one in a petri dish. Maybe several children.

Would I have dated a single father? Maybe. But that’s assuming he didn’t opt to marry one of the preceding baby mamas in his life. Maybe he would have gotten a different job, a higher paying job to deal with all the child support payments, and he and I never would have met. Maybe he really wouldn’t have knocked up any of those other women, but in the eleven years we’ve been together it would have been ME with the oopsie. I can tell you with some amount of certainty that it wouldn’t have been this particular child, and at this point I am quite fond of her. I don’t want a baby. I want THIS baby.

There’s no real point to this whole long “what if” scenario other than to illustrate that perhaps it all worked out how it was supposed to. I won’t pretend that it always does for everyone (because it doesn’t) and I won’t claim to be “happy” for our infertility (because I’m really, really not). But maybe I’ve finally reached a point that’s far enough removed from that fresh pain and heartache to admit to myself that this is how it was supposed to go down. This timing. This moment. This baby. These little reassuring kicks.

I’m just feeling very thankful.