burnt toast life

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.

May 07

dirty, flirty 30

May 07

So yesterday was my 30th birthday.

I’m going to preface this by saying that I’m going to complain again. When we were TTC, and experiencing loss, and when I was staying up nights crying into the darkness about how I’d do anything for a baby, hearing anyone complain about pregnancy made me irate…and understandably so. That’s why I just want to acknowledge, again, that I know complaining may sound ungrateful and it may cause some of my homegirls to want to punch me in the face. That’s OK. Please feel free to skip these posts (or, you know, punch me in the face if you really think I deserve it). But I have decided that since I’m all about honesty, and since this is my blog, there’s no use in sugarcoating the ugly reality of the third trimester and how uncomfortable it’s been making me. I’m not glowing…I’m dripping with sweat. I’m not all belly…I’m pretty much obese. And HAHAHA! is what I have to say to the me of several posts back – it turns out you CAN look pregnant from behind. I look pregnant from behind. I definitely do. Do I know it’s going to be worth it? Heck yeah. Do I take back asking for all of this? HECK NO. But still, to properly document my life, I must tell it like it is right now. And right now… it’s rough.

I take birthdays very seriously, and not only do I take the day off work (I now have a 30 year streak of never working on my birthday, and I don’t plan to break it anytime soon), but I also force my mom and sister to take the day off and hang out with me. Generally the plan involves going out to breakfast (by far my favorite meal of the day) and lots of shopping, and then going out to dinner. Most years we drive an hour and a half to the King of Prussia mall (KOP, affectionately), which as anyone in the Philadelphia metro area will tell you is pretty much the best mall ever. It is MASSIVE. Any store you could hope to shop is there.

This year I knew my limits well enough to know that KOP was out of the question. I have a list of nursery needs that I’ve been carting around, and I figured these items were best procured from a discount store, like Marshalls or Ross or Big Lots or Christmas Tree Shops. These are my favorite places to shop lately anyway.

We started out our day running two hours behind schedule just because that’s how it worked out. The birthday crew included my mom, my sister, and my two nieces (aged almost 3 and just turned 1). We drove to my favorite breakfast place, paid for parking, dragged the kids out of the car, walked over and… it was closed for renovations! Boo, hiss. Loaded everyone back up, consulted Yelp real quick, and ended up finding a perfectly respectable place with yummy food. Crisis averted.

We went to Marshalls and spent a couple hours hunting bargains. I was pretty disappointed because of course last time I was there I found a TON of items that perfectly matched my intended nursery decor (and of course I didn’t purchase anything because I wasn’t ready to commit to the theme or the fact that I was actually having a baby just yet), but this time I found nothing. Strangely, they had a lot of cute boy nursery items but not as many things for girls. The one thing from my list that I did find was a robe and comfy pants for the hospital so I don’t have to take pictures in the ugly hospital-issued frock. The robe is black and white, made of a really cool and comfortable stretchy microfiber, and it was $12.99. Score one for Marshalls.

Even though we were running behind schedule, we still had time to go to a few more stores. I should mention here that by this point, after approximately 2 hours of shopping and walking and standing, my feet were completely miserable. These days I can’t help but think of a friend who was pregnant a few years ago who wore these intense white orthopedic shoes every single day, even with skirts and dresses. At the time I was thinking, Oh, weird, if/when I ever get pregnant I’ll never do that. But do you know how much I would have paid to have orthopedic shoes yesterday? Infinity dollars. My feet were K-I-L-L-I-N-G me. My sister and my mom were apparently laughing behind my back because usually on Birthday Shopping Day I’m the one dragging them around and rolling my eyes at how long it takes them to do everything. Yesterday was a huge role reversal, and I was the one constantly seeking out chairs and bathrooms and walking at the speed of molasses. I couldn’t even handle the checkout line, and opted instead to go sit in the car and wait for them.

They came out of the store and started sorting out everyone’s items and loaded up the little girls into my sister’s car (she had driven separately because she had to leave earlier). Then all of the sudden, my sister ran over in complete hysterics. She had accidentally locked her keys and her babies in the hot car, windows up.

The whole thing was so scary. I mean, when I say hot car, it was 65 and sunny, not like 90 degrees or something. Otherwise we would have found a brick and broken the window. But as it was, it was pretty terrible watching the kids cry and sweat in there with no way to comfort them and no way to open the damn doors. We called 911 and the cop came and used some giant hanger looking thing to pry the lock. The whole experience felt like it took hours but really it was only about 25 minutes start to finish. Sweaty girls were comforted, water was distributed, and we ventured on.

We were supposed to hit like four more stores but after all the drama of the morning and due to the fact that my feet felt like I had just climbed up and down Mount Everest 14 times, my heart just wasn’t in it. We stopped in two more stores quickly, but again I didn’t find anything. Honestly, the most stuff I got was at Wegmans about an hour later. Leave it to a pregnant chick to do her birthday shopping at the grocery store. (Favorite purchase of the day: Turkey Hill All Natural Mango ice cream – a new flavor!).

As I may have mentioned, Eric is away on a business trip in New Orleans, so he wasn’t even there to celebrate with me. I guess it’s not that big of a deal and we can just celebrate later. He did send me lovely flowers, which were waiting for me when I got home. I had just enough time to put away my groceries before heading back out to dinner with my parents, sister + fam, and a friend I haven’t seen in a while. It was a nice way to end a physically and mentally exhausting day. Well, that and the ginormous bowl of mango ice cream I indulged in later on.

30 feels a lot like 29, except when it feels like 85, which is to say every day lately. I’m so run-down and exhausted and I hate that I can’t physically do the things I need to do (LIKE…SHOP). I don’t know why I was kind of expecting this in the last two weeks or so of pregnancy, but totally was not expecting it for the entirety of the third trimester. If I had to do a pregnancy breakdown, it would go something like this:

Weeks 1-4 – Hope against hope.
Weeks 4-12 – Absolute terror that something will go wrong.
Weeks 12-16 – Ok, all right, this is pretty cool. Cute bump!
Weeks 16-18 – Wait… why am I getting so fat?
Weeks 18-22 – Seriously, I need to stop gaining so much weight.
Weeks 22-26 – Ice cream is a food group, right?
weeks 26-30 – Now I feel stupid for saying people can’t look pregnant from behind.
weeks 30-34 – Feet! Oh, my feet! Is there somewhere I can sit down? I just need to sit down.

I’m pretty sure the solution is to be more physically active from the get-go, which would allow me to be more physically active now, which would just make me feel better overall. If I ever get pregnant again, that will be the goal. My excuse for not doing this is that I was so terrified in the first trimester that even low-impact exercise seemed ill-advised. That, and I’m a little lazy.

Anyway! My mom loved her thirties. My 87-year-old grandmother called to wish me a happy birthday and said that her favorite years were 30 to 35, which is pretty specific, and seeing as how she’s lived through almost 8 full decades I’m thinking she would know.

All in all, turning 30 isn’t so bad.

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 22

It’s not about the food (it was never about the food)

Apr 22

Try to contain your excitement…I figured out a topic to discuss other than indigestion.

I’m wondering if anyone feels the same way I do about this.

Friday was a coworker’s last day, and the tradition since I’ve been working here has been that he, another coworker, and I all go out to get lunch together on a fairly frequent basis. No one at my company takes full lunch breaks, but we do often run out to grab something from the myriad of nearby food places. As these things tend to be, it’s not so much about seeking sustenance – it’s about taking a much-needed break midday, breathing in some fresh air, talking, laughing, and generally bonding. At least, that’s how I think of it. Even when I bring my lunch, I usually go out with them and find something to purchase – a drink, some ill-advised chili cheese fries. These are trips that I wouldn’t bother to take by myself, but since they are going, I go along. Because… it’s not about the food. It’s not even really about taking a break. It’s about more than that.

So Friday, other coworker brought leftovers from home and decided she didn’t want to come to grab lunch…on his last day! I was trying to explain my whole theory of, “It’s not about the food…” but I realized that I was sounding nostalgic, needy, and perhaps a little silly. So I just let it go. However, it did make me think about how I always do this, and how maybe I’m the weird one. (And as a side note, we did eventually convince her to come and we had our final hurrah, so don’t worry).

Another similar example: Eric has skipped many a family dinner because he had just eaten, or wasn’t hungry for whatever reason. But even if I had just eaten or wasn’t hungry, I would still go… to HIS family dinners at his parent’s house. (I guess they are technically my family too through marriage). I’ve definitely said these words to him before – “It’s not about the food. It’s about seeing the family.” But he acts like I’m crazy for going to a so-called dinner with a full stomach. As the nieces and nephews continued to multiply and my retired in-laws started to travel more, the family dinners went from weekly to practically nonexistent. I understand that it’s a lot to take on (and clean up), but at the same time the absence of them makes me sad, and grateful for all the times I went. I love family dinners. Even when I’m not hungry. This is why Eric and I live within a 5 mile radius of his parents, my parents, my sister, and all three of his sisters. All the aunts and uncles on both sides are within driving distance, and we literally see both sides of our family for every holiday. Yeah, we talked about moving to Denver last year, but was it ever going to happen? No. We’re both hardcore family people (despite his willingness to skip the occasional family dinner). If my house were big enough to take on the responsibility of hosting weekly dinners, I would do it myself. My ultimate goal is to have that one day.

It’s funny because as I said, my little sister’s 9th birthday was last Thursday and all she wanted was for the family to come over and have cake with her. Despite the fact that she’s a little kid and loves sweets, I know her well enough to know that the cake was not the important part. She wanted everyone to come over and hang out for a little. We couldn’t do dinner because she had to go church to fulfill her First Communion requirement, and yeah it was late for my other sister’s kids to be awake, but we all came over at 8:30 p.m. on a weeknight because to Allie, that’s what matters – seeing her family. I’ve never met a little girl who appreciated family gatherings so much. But I totally get where she’s coming from, because I’m exactly the same way.

“What a beautiful, perfect backyard we have. We should sell our house.”

Anyone else watch the show Parenthood? Anyone else irate that they sold that house? In case you’re not a fan, here’s the long story short: these parents have a positively gorgeous, craftsman-style home with a beautiful backyard adorned with twinkly overhead lights. This is the hub where the family gathers to discuss problems, have rowdy dinners, and just generally live out their lives. But the matriarch decides that she wants to be closer to the city so she can go to art galleries and stuff on a whim. Her husband, the ultimate homebody, is initially opposed but eventually bends to his wife’s wishes and sells the beautiful, perfect family home in the season finale. I understand that different people have different values, and that no one way is better or worse than another. But in this show, that whole scenario is exactly opposite of what I want for my life. I am seeking out that house where everyone gathers, and I would never, ever, EVER sell it. As my father likes to say, they’d be carrying me out feet first. There’s nothing I want more than an outdoor picnic table and some strategically placed Edison bulbs on a string for ambiance (can you tell I’m a little obsessed with lighting in general?). I want to create a warm, welcoming home where family comes together… even when they’re not hungry. Even when it’s not a special occasion. Even when it’s a random Tuesday.

Because it’s not about the food. It was never about the food. It’s about the family, and it’s about the friends, and it’s about the connecting with the people in life who mean the most to you. Who’s with me?

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:

Apr 09

I’ll never forget you

Apr 09

Blogs seem like a logical place to celebrate anniversaries, both happy and sad. Today I have a sad one.

April 8th, 2013 was hands down the worst day of my life so far (and hopefully forever, because if it gets much worse than that…ugh). That’s not to take away from the sadness of July 8th, 2013, which was also particularly awful. But the thing about April 8th was that it threw me off guard. In no way was I mentally prepared to hear the news that I heard. At first, it was impossible to believe. It really was like I floated up out of my body and was watching it happen to someone else. My twins were there, and they were alive. They were growing and their little hearts were beating. And then they just…weren’t.

I remember everything about that day. The annoying bus ride, the part where I saw them on the screen before I knew anything was wrong yet. The way my heart dropped into my stomach when the tech broke the news. The dread of calling Eric. The dread of telling everyone. The long bus ride back home.

It’s a tough spot to be in, because right now everything about this pregnancy is going well. So I’m happy/sad today. When I think of my twins, tears spring to my eyes in an instant. Perhaps now it’s easier to say things like, “I’ll see them again one day,” or “At least they never suffered; never felt pain of any kind.” It’s easier to say that all now because time has gone by, and because I’m looking forward to the imminent arrival of their sister. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about them. I wish I could have had them all. I wish they could know each other.

Today I’m thinking about and praying for anyone who has ever lost a child. Miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDs, everything. Truly, from the depths of my heart, I believe we will get to meet our lost little babies one day. Until then…

Apr 07

bathroom renovation: tomorrow!

Apr 07

Eric is brilliant. He figured out a way to totally distract me from the fact that the nursery is no closer to being done than it was a month ago. (OK, so we bought the paint for it. Did we crack it open? No. But we do have it).

Two words: bathroom. reno.

I know! Some of you may recall this post, in which I went into detail about just how miserable my bathroom is, with photographic evidence. But in case you don’t feel like clicking through again, here is a reminder:

Another angle:

Yes. I’ve seriously been living with this hideousness for three years now. And finally… oh, finally… it is getting gutted. Down to the studs. We got an amazing, one-day-only deal on tile for the floor, plus we scored two gor-ge-ous vanities (to push together and turn into a double) for a STEAL. I am really excited about them, but I’m holding back on sharing any photos because I want the big reveal at the end to be super dramatic. Considering where we’re starting out, I suppose it’s almost impossible that it won’t be.

Eric’s cousin just moved back to the area from Colorado and does construction type work, so that’s who will be tackling this project. Eric has been promising me this reno for a long time (like, since he found out his cousin was moving back to PA), but you know… I was skeptical. Now that some of the materials are purchased and the room is emptied, I can finally believe that it’s actually a reality. And just in time. Because clearly I wasn’t going to be bathing my child in that monstrosity of a bathtub.

We do have a second “bathroom” in the basement, but I use the term bathroom very loosely. Basically there’s a functioning toilet, a decrepit sink, and an unusable shower area, all with some plywood propped up around it (and a handwritten sign that says “DUNGEON” that’s been there since we bought the house. It’s fitting, so we left it up). Eric’s initial suggestion was to renovate that bathroom first, then tackle the upstairs, but I didn’t think it made much sense since the rest of the basement isn’t finished. So essentially we’d have a really nice, out-of-place bathroom in a dark and dingy basement. Our money is much better spent on the main floor.

Soooo we don’t really have a bathroom for the next month… I mean, we have the scary toilet in the DUNGEON (which I’m super psyched about using twice in the middle of the night, by the way). But as for morning routine teeth brushing and stuff, it’s gonna be all kitchen sink for approximately the next month.

So our counter looks like this:

And showering? We’ll be doing that at my parent’s house, which is conveniently located two miles away and has an abundance of extra bathrooms, but still. It’s going to be a pain schlepping over there every single day. Will we get up super early? Or will we start showering at night? My hair is oily…I’m not really sure night showering is an option. I may have to try out that dry shampoo I keep hearing so much about.

BUT, I’m not complaining from this point forward, because I’m BEYOND excited that this bathroom is getting done. I mean, seriously, I’m over the moon.

Next up – nursery. For real.

so excited, and we just can’t hide it

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.