Saving Christmas

My great grandmother died when I was five. She was a cool lady. She used to make all kinds of stuff. She knit baby blankets, hats, and mittens. She also was known to make a lot of things in ceramics class at the senior center.

She had 5 daughters. Those 5 daughters went on to have a total of 17 children of their own. And those 17 children went on to have a shit ton more. I have a ton of cousins. So you see, there are a large number of people between me and Grammy.

So, when she passed away I didn't get anything of hers.

I have a blanket she made for me when I was born, and a mug she made for me when I was a little girl. But I don't have anything of hers.

The coolest thing Grammy used to make was nativity sets. She handpainted a set for each of her 5 daughters. She also glazed a set for my mom right before her death. My mother's nativity set has been a cherished memory of mine all of my life. It is just so special.

Every year my brother and I would trade off on who got to set up the manger. We would run to put baby Jesus in his "spot" every Christmas morning. It is one of my fondest childhood memories of Christmas.

Since moving out and making a home of my own, I have longed for my own nativity set. I have literally looked at hundreds. And none of them ever fit the bill.

They just didn't seem special.

In fact, last year one of my aunts bought me a few peices of the Precious Moments nativity scene. And as I set them on my table this year I thought, these are cute but they just aren't Grammy's.

Apparently, in 1981 Grammy made herself a nativity set. She handpainted each figurine and my Great Grandfather built a manger for the set. And when she passed away in 1990, my Great Aunt Lee inherited the set.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve 2009.

After dinner, my grandmother instructed Mr. Rootbeer to follow her out to her car because she had something for me in the trunk. They returned with a large box. My grandmother explained that Aunt Lee asked her to give this to me this Christmas. I opened the box and inside was the most wonderful Christmas gift I have ever received.

Grammy's nativity.

Complete with the manger that Grampy has made.

I cannot put into words the joy I felt setting up the nativity on Christmas morning. I am certain I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life. And I can only hope that my children, that I WILL have, will treasure this Christmas tradition as much as I have.

So, thank you Aunt Lee. Thank you for saving Christmas.

Bah Humbug

I would first like to say that I am a Christmas whore.

I loooooove Christmas.

I am one of those people that starts listening to the ever-corny Christmas music the very day after Thanksgiving. I will even admit that my obsession with this overly commercial holiday goes as far as I start planning how I will decorate our house as early as Halloween.

Because shortly after Christmas comes New Years, and who doesn't love New Year's Eve?

And right after New Year's Eve comes my birthday. Which is obviously the highlight of my year.

I usually spend the week leading up to Christmas singing songs, wearing red and green, cheerfully wrapping gifts and baking yummy treats. And I love to shop, so Christmas shopping has never been an annoyance. I gladly brave the packed parking lots and long lines because I truly love to buy gifts for my loved ones.

This year just feels so different. Don't get me wrong here, I am still enjoying seeing family and giving the gifts I have purchased. Except everything else was such a pain in the ass this year.

My heart just isn't in it. And I can't help but wonder if that pesky date conviently sandwiched between New Year's and my birthday is to blame...

Jan 5th.

Fuck that day. I have been dreading it for almost 9 months now. And here it is, just in time to ruin the holidays.

Christmas cards make me wanna barf, yet I sent them anyway. Complete with a picture of my two dogs, because face it people I have no kids.

Shopping this year ranked slightly above sticking a fork into my eyeball.

Work Secret Santa...I got the poor chick a bottle of vodka and a redbull.
I kid you not.
And I will share my thought process on picking this gift out. I said to myself, "Self, what would you want from the work secret santa?"
Bottle of vodka was the first thing that came to mind.

Christmas cookies...I made them but only because stuffing my face is a priority these days. I am working to ensure that none of the clothes I get for Christmas fit.

And don't even get me started on wrapping all those fucking gifts. OMG pain in the ass.

So, faithful blog readers, I am officially over Christmas.

The only positive thing I can come up with is that it is in fact a indication that this suck ass year is almost over.

*************************************************************************************
also I hate that CBEFM.

I don't even think I ovulated this cycle. Which is just fan-fucking-tastic.

I am right on schedule to get my period on Jan 1st.

Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot?

FML

Still here

I'm still here in the 2ww. I am debating on whether to test on Thanksgiving.

My original plan was to wait until the CBEFM tells me I am late, and then I would test.

I don't like that plan anymore.

I am impatient.

I want to test on Thursday. I have good vibes about this cycle for some strange reason. I will be approx. 9-10 DPO on Thursday.

WWYD?

And so it begins...

the dreaded 2ww.

That's right folks, I peed on my nifty little stick today and stuck it in the CBEFM and ta da! My fertile phase is over.

I really loathe this part of my cycle. I have come to realize that almost every symptom of pregnancy, short of two lines of course, and every symptom of AF are pretty much the same. The exhaustion, the pimples, the headaches, and just plain feeling like shit.

I put zero stock in symptoms. Which, for me is a healthy development. I refuse to even entertain the idea that I could be pregnant until I see those two little magic lines.

But, you see, that's the part of this that makes the 2ww the little whore she is. She uses her alluring trickery to fool you into thinking you have a chance.

But in reality, I do have a chance. A pretty good one. And thanks to the CBEFM, Mr. Rootbeer and I have had sex every night for the past 10 days. So, I'm thinkin our chances are pretty good. We will see.

O!

Well folks it looks like today is the day I have been waiting for. I got a "peak fertility" reading on the CBEFM this morning. Complete with an adorable picture of a little egg. I should be O'ing today or tomorrow.

:swoon:

Sex-a-thon November 2009 continues...

Pinky

The CBEFM is still reading "high fertility" today. I was sure I would wake up and get a "peak fertility" reading today. I think I read somewhere that it may not give a "peak fertility" reading the first cycle in use because the monitor doesn't "know" me yet. So, my friends, the sex-a-thon continues.

Not even a broken toe could stop us.

I would like to take a moment to tell you all that I am an accident waiting to happen. I think it may have something do with my lack of depth perception. I walk into EVERYTHING. Last week we went to NYC to see a show and I fell flat on my face on 138th street. Brusied my shin pretty good. A few days later I slipped on the back cement steps leading down to our patio and busied my ass. I have a big black bruise the size of Mr. Rootbeer's fist on my right ass cheek. Or so he tells me.

But last night takes the cake. I really couldn't tell you how this happened. That's how ridiculous it is. Anywho, I was walking in my living room and somehow managed to kick the couch. Yup. And broke my little pinky toe, and possibly the one next to it. I can barely walk.

I got into bed and Mr. Rootbeer came in and we decided a little broken toe won't stop us. :)

If I get knocked up this cycle, I shall call the baby Pinky.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

A few months ago I put google analytics on my blog. I was interested in seeing if anyone was even reading my blog and where my readers were coming from. I was quite surprised to find I actually had readers. And from all over the country and even in other countries.



So, yesterday I was sitting around with Mr. Rootbeer, watching football as per usual on a Sunday afternoon, when I decided to pull up google analytics and check on this little old blog. And would you believe that people are still reading my blog? When I figured this out I felt just plain guilty. Guilty, because my blog has sucked hardcore lately. I have been writing without inspiration. Or barely writing at all.



I needed inspiration and guidance. And somehow I got the bright idea to go back and read all my posts from the beginning. This was really the first time I have gone back and remembered those few weeks I had my baby. The verdict is still out on whether this was a good idea.



You decide.



My blog can basically be broken up into 4 parts.



Part 1 - TTC ROUND 1

This made me laugh. I was so impatient after trying for only a few cycles. Alas, I can recall some of these feelings. I remember being so frustrated the cycle I got pregnant. I remember the night we found out. But when I read the post about that night, I remembered much more. I knew I was pregnant before I ever saw those two lines. I remember going to dinner with Mr. Rootbeer that night and telling him I was pretty sure it would be my last sushi dinner for a while. I remember getting home from dinner and Bubs telling me to test. I remember seeing the lines and feeling so happy. I know happy is a pretty run of the mill way to describe such an overwhelming emotion but when I think back all I can see is happy.



Part 2 - Baby Rootbeer

Once I saw those two lines my blog was happy. There's that word again. This was the happiest time my blog has ever seen, and yet when I read it last night it was the hardest part to read. One one hand it was sweet to see how delighted and hopeful I was, on the other hand it was sad to see how innocent and unaware I was.



There was a post about pregnancy pimples that brought me to tears. I was complaining about having zits all over my body. But at the end of the post I said something to the effect of not being able to wait to hear Baby Rootbeer's heartbeat and how it would be the sweetest sound I had ever heard next to hearing Baby Rootbeer's first cry. I never got to hear those sounds. It breaks my heart all over again.



Part 3 - The Aftermath

Ok this is the part where shit hit the fan. After losing Baby Rootbeer I was a mess. It was hard to read. I had posted a recount of the events of that day. And I had tears streaming down my face as I read it last night. This section is full of raw emotion. Sadness, greif, confusion and sheer disbelief.



Part 4 - TTC Round 2

This is where the blog really started to turn to shit. Because you see, there is no magic left in TTC for me. I write about nothing. The posts show clear signs of a bitter and depressed newlywed. How wonderful.



I have friends who are TTC for the first time. They are so excited and filled with hope and anticipation. I dare not burst their bubble. However, I am insanely jealous. I wish I could get that feeling back. I feel like I am stuck somewhere I am not supposed to be.



According to google analytics, an average of 6 of you have been reading these miserable posts. So, to the six of you I apologize. I vow that I will make a valiant effort to make my blog better. To entertain you with the funny little anecdotes that occur, and to fill you in on the details of TTC round 2.



And since we are focusing on positivity...there was something wonderful I found while reading my blog. I found all the wonderful, supportive, and loving comments left by readers. Thank you. Thank you for the support and the love.



The truth is people. I am scared. I am absolutely terrified of being pregnant again. Even though it is the one thing I want more than anything.



What happens then? Will I be happy again? Will all the pain I have been trying to process over the past 6 months go away? Will I be able to enjoy another pregnancy?



I guess we will cross all of these bridges when we come to them.



I am also anxious about my impending due date. January 5th. The day Baby Rootbeer was estimated to arrive. What the fuck am I supposed to do on that day? Just thinking about it causes my chest to tighten. And as this day approaches I find myself being reminded of what I should be doing. I should be finishing up the nursery. I should be attending my shower. I should be huge. The approach of this due date and the holidays makes me want to run away.



:deep breath:



OK enough about that.



In CBEFM news, it is still giving me a "high fertility" reading. Today is CD 15. Mr. Rootbeer and I have been having a sex-a-thon for a few days now and I don't plan on calling it quits until I see a "peak fertility" reading. Also, I bought a pineapple.



I am desperate people. The thought of standing on my head after sex has actually crossed my mind in a serious manner.

Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor

So, I have officially christened my CBEFM. For the past three days I have woken up, peed on a little stick, and stuck it inside this magical little monitor. In theory, this nifty little device will tell us when the best time is to have sex. Right now, the monitor says I am in "high fertility". I call shenanigans. Today is CD 10. There is no way I am even close to fertile right now. Whatever, CBEFM we will see how smart you are soon. If I somehow manage to get KU this cycle. I promise I will shut my mouth and never question you again.

Mr. Fix-It

Well here we are again. I haven't blogged in a while mainly because I haven't really had anything new to say. We are still trying to get pregnant, and I am still not pregnant. I am still having a hard time with all of this. I am trying so damn hard to be positive but it is more and more difficult every month.

Today is most likely CD 28 and I am probably 13 DPO. I say "most likely" and "probably" because I didn't chart or use OPKs or anything again.

I have been hearing things like "Just relax and it will happen," or "it will happen as soon as you stop trying" for about a year now. Both are among my most hated phrases.

I took the last two cycles to "relax" and "let it happen."

But guess what, it didn't.

I spotted yesterday, and again today. Which is a clue that AF is hiding right around the corner. Waiting to pop out and remind me that I am not pregnant yet again.

A few months ago I would have still had hope at this point. I would have said to myself, "self, you're not bleeding yet. Some women spot when they are pregnant." But I am fresh out of hopeful pep talks for myself. And frankly, I am annoyed by the ones I get from others. Even from people I love most.

The two people closest to me in my life are Mr. Rootbeer and my Dad. I am incredibly close to my father and I always have been. He knows more about me than anyone and we talk about everything.

My Dad is Mr. Fix-It. He always has been. He can fix ANYTHING. I never had to worry if something broke, I would bring it to Dad and he would fix it, no matter what it was. In fact, when I was 11 my pet cockatiel Prissy had an unfortunate accident with a ceiling fan. She broke her beak and I remember picking her up and carrying her over to my Dad and saying, "fix her Daddy." He did.

And when I met Mr. Rootbeer I noticed the same quality. Mr. Rootbeer can fix anything as well. I don't think I could have married a man who couldn't. I break things a lot and it's comforting to have a man around that can make everything right again.

Well, I have been feeling pretty broken lately. It has been over a year since Mr. Rootbeer and I started TTC. I am disappointed and discouraged every month when I start to bleed. It breaks my heart into pieces all over again, and it seems to get worse every cycle.

This month has been the worst so far. It's not about the miscarriage anymore. It is about the fact that I have tried everything in my power to get pregnant and FAILED over and over again. Getting pregnant is the most basic and natural function of the female body. And I can't seem to hack it.

I was overly optimistic about this cycle. My breats have been very sore. I have been bloated, and breaking out very bad. I actually thought we might have finally succeeded.

Yesterday I ran home and into the bathroom and I looked down and saw pink. I closed my eyes and starting saying "no no no no." I prayed. I actually sat on my toilet and prayed for God to make the blood go away and replace it with a positive pregnancy test. And today when I saw more blood in my bathroom at work, I lost my shit. I sobbed and I felt sorry for myself.

Neither my Dad nor Mr. Rootbeer can fix this. And they have tried. They try with their words. They tell me that I will get pregnant soon. They tell me it will happen when we least expect. They remind me to be thankful for what I have. But it just makes me feel worse. Because I know they can't fix this for me.

I am still feeling sorry for myself. I don't know where to go from here. On one hand I want to call the Dr and begin testing. On the other, I want to go back on birth control and maybe regain some sanity.

I probably won't do either. I will probably just keep trying and praying.

And again...

we are on to the next cycle. AF showed up on Thursday. I feel like since I haven't been charting or using OPKs (at the request of Mr. Rootbeer), I can't really be that disappointed. Yet, I am.

So here we are, almost 4 months have passed since we lost Baby Rootbeer...still unpregnant.

I decided after careful consideration, to give Mr. Rootbeer's "good ole fashioned way" one more try. He is convinced this is the best way, and he really wants to try one more cycle, or not try, or not try to try. Ugh...one more month of this crap.

I am doing this for my husband. I have to keep telling myself that.

If I don't get pregnant this cycle, we have decided to use a Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor next cycle. And of course the pre-seed. At least then I will know if and when I am ovulating and if we are timing sex correctly. Based on the length of of the three cycles I have had since the miscarriage, I know something MUST be different. I have got to be ovulating later. But thanks to my stubborn husband, I have no idea.

I know, I know...so many people make perfectly healthy babies without ever having to chart, or use OPKs or even know anything about their own body. I say GOOD FOR THEM.

It doesn't matter what other people have done. This is MY journey to MY family. For some reason, this is the path I have been forced to take, and I have no choice but to find a way through it. I know I will have the family I am meant to have. I just hate the uncertainty in it.

Catching Up...

It is about time I caught up with my blog readers. Things are ok. Time is ticking.

We are still trying to get pregnant, but we have not been charting. This decision came from Mr. Rootbeer mostly. He felt that it would be best to do things "the old fashioned way." Honestly, I don't necessarily agree, but I felt like I could try his approach for a few months and see where it took us. I have to admit, it was fun for a little while. Fun not worrying about timing. But as this cycle winds down and I wait for the dreaded AF to show up, it is not so fun. I haven't charted since the miscarriage. And deep inside I am anxious. Anxious because my cycles still aren't back to where they were before the miscarriage, anxious because I have no idea when I am ovulating. And the anxiety just seems to get worse as AF approaches. I have no idea when to expect it. My best guess is somewhere between day 28 and 36. So today CD 30, I wait. I wait for the day when I will see blood and my heart will break all over again. It has been 14 weeks, and it gets easier every day. But that pain in still there deep inside of me. It comes to the surface every month when AF comes. I tend to think it is mostly due to hormones. But don't worry, if by some miracle of God I did manage to get pregnant this cycle you all will be the first to know.

FAIL

I am the worst blogger EVER. I would like to tell you I have been too busy to post anything but that would not be the truth. The truth is that over the last month or so depression has really taken a hold of me. I want to assure you that I am ok now. I am really doing 100x better than I was even two weeks ago.

I have never been depressed before. I dealt with some minor anxiety issues in college but nothing too serious. Maybe that's why I didn't see the signs. Things got very dark. I just felt flat. It's hard to explain, which is why I haven't blogged. It is not like I sat around crying all the time, in fact it is quite the opposite. I was so afraid of admitting what I was feeling that I tried to be happy all the time. Eventually this caught up with me and I broke. It has been a very rough few months in the Rootbeer household.

I have never felt so alone in my life. I feel as if noone understands my greif and pain.

My Shoes

A wonderful and inspirational woman on the bump posted this and I thought I would share with you...

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them,
and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in other's eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so that they don't hurt quite somuch.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they thinkabout how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Waiting...

I am still waiting for AF. I probably shouldn't have expected to see her on Sunday, but I did. On to CD 31 tomorrow and more waiting. I would have been 17 weeks today. I lost baby Rootbeer 10 weeks ago tomorrow. It is so weird. I feel like I was pregnant just yesterday, but at the same time I feel like it was years ago.

I went to see the shrink today. She has been on vaca for a few weeks so we should have had a lot to catch up on. Or um I should have had a lot to catch her up on. But I really didn't have much to say. She asked how I was feeling, I replied with "flat." She said I am depressed. She said she thinks I should consider calling my Dr to get on some sort of anti-depressant. Apparently, she isn't the prescribing-type of Dr.

Um no. I will not be taking an anti-depressant right now. Mr. Rootbeer and I are finally gearing up for TTC again and this is no time to be introducing new drugs into my body. I just want to feel better. I know that I can get through this without meds. Mr. Rootbeer totally supports my decision. So for now I wait...

Wait for my period...

Wait to TTC...

Wait to feel better...

Did I mention I am one of the least patient people on earth?

Dreamweaver

I had a dream last night I was pregnant again. It brought back a whole slew of emotions. The good news is that I woke up happier than I have been in a while. I haven't been that heppy since I actually was pregnant. I forgot how wonderful it felt to be pregnant. To feel that little baby inside me and know that it was a product of our love. I can't wait to feel that again.

In other news, Mr. Rootbeer and I talked some more. I told him that I need to chart. Charting makes me feel as if I have some kind of control over my body and my cycles. So, I will be charting...I think. I'm confused. Don't mind me.

The "talk"

I received a text message from Mr. Rootbeer yesterday saying he wanted to "talk" when we got home. Excellent. This is never good. I had a funny feeling it was going to be about TTC. I must be psychic. When I came home we spent some time chatting about each of our days, and Mr. Rootbeer ate dinner which he had made for himself since I had a working dinner meeting.

Deep down I knew this was coming. Mr. Rootbeer is not much of a verbal communicator, however I have become increasingly comptetent at deciphering his non-verbal cues. I had this feeling all day long that this was not going to be a talk I really want to have. I worried that he would tell me that after the miscarriage, he isn't sure he wants to TTC again. I knew this "talk" was TTC related, because as I get closer to this cycle being over and closer to the time we decided we would TTC again, I can feel the tension rising. I knew there was something he has been wanting to say and hasn't. It took a lot of poking around for him to finally tell me that he would rather me not start temping and charting again. Which I am ok with. My OCD tendencies tell me that charting is the only road to conception, but I know that isn't true.

So no more charting for me, which is relieving.

8 weeks later

It has been 8 weeks since the D&C. I feel so much better than last week. I am almost afraid to type those words. Everytime I think that I am finally doing better, I regress. Everytime I feel accomplished for taking 5 steps forward, I take 2 back. I know this is "normal"...there's that word again. I understand this is a natural step in the process of grieving. Anywho, I am feeling good this week, and I attribute this to two things. One being that this cycle is almost over and we are getting closer to TTC again every day. The other being how much I have accomplished in terms of my house being organized and clean thanks to the FLYlady.

I am excited and scared to death of TTC again at the same time. I want to get pregnant again. I cannot wait to feel tired, bloated, and nauseous all over again, as long as it leads to a healthy baby. But at the same time I am scared. Scared of another miscarriage. Scared it will take another 6 cycles to even get pregnant again. Scared that when I do get pregnant I will be a nervous wreck and not be able to enjoy it. Some of this I have control over. I need to be patient and let things happen. I truly believe we will have our baby soon. And when I am pregnant again, I need to just enjoy every day for what it is. A blessing.

7 Weeks Later

It's been just over 7 weeks since we lost Baby Rootbeer. I feel like I should be doing better. Most days are pretty good. But truthfully I am sad to my core. Even when I am happy, or having fun, I am still sad in some way. The odd part is that it doesn't translate into my life as sadness, but rather as anger. Which sucks, because being angry does not feel good. It makes me feel guilty because the sources and targets of my anger are usually undeserving strangers that have done nothing besides procreate. The shrink says that everything I am feeling is normal. Fantastic. The trouble with that is that it doesn't feel normal. It feels so far from normal.

My cousin's baby shower is today. I am not going. I decided it was best for everyone, including myself, if I stayed behind. I lost my shit at a graduation party last week, case closed no baby showers for me.

I go to work everyday, I go out with friends and with my husband. I see family. I clean my house. I have definitely made progress. I am just not 100%. It's not that I go around yelling and being mean to pregnant people and people with kids, it's more on the inside.

Mr. Rootbeer doesn't want to TTC again until my next cycle. The doctor mentioned that would be optimal, and since I know Mr. Rootbeer is terrified I will miscarry again, we are waiting. I don't want to wait, but I am. I pray that some of this anger will go away when we do get pregnant again. But for now, it's a waiting game. I am happy to report however, that we are having a ton of sex. It's pretty awesome.

Spring Cleaning in July

Mr. Rootbeer and I are working on getting our home back in order. Since the miscarriage things have spiraled out of control in regard to household chores and such. 6 weeks of not doing anything around the house results in one thing...chaos. Laundry piled up everywhere, miscellaneous items all over the countertop, cobwebs lurking in every corner, and little sticky things on the floor that grab on to your bare feet or socks when you walk. GROSS.



Don't fret ladies and gentlemen. I have a plan. I always have a plan. I have enlisted the help of two wonderful ladies to help me...Mrs. Meyer and the FlyLady.



I am completely OBSESSED with Mrs. Meyer's a clean day products. I, myself, am partial to the lavander scent. However, it is available in other amazing scents like geranium, basil, lemon verbana, and even a baby product line. I love love love the scent of the lavander after I clean a room in my home. I started with purchasing the countertop spray, and loved it so much, I sprung for the all purpose solution, which I use on anything and everything in my house. This stuff cleans my stainless steel cooktop like nothing else. I have bought countless specialty stainless steel cleaners and nothing even comes close. So anywho, this stuff is fabulous. Check out her stuff here: http://www.mrsmeyers.com/ I buy mine at Target btw.



OK so let's talk about the FlyLady. I was catching up on my blogs this morning, when I came across a comment mentioning the FlyLady. This chick is definitely going to whip my disorganized ass into shape. If your house is cluttered and in need of a serious cleaning, this site is for you. I plan on taking some before and after pics. She has some great ideas, and I plan on putting them to good use. I will stop babbling about it and give you the link so you can check this out for yourself: http://www.flylady.net/pages/begin_babysteps.asp



So, between myself, Mr. Rootbeer and these two ladies, I think I should have things under control in the next few weeks. I am by nature a very neat and clean being, and this just isn't right. When you get to the point where you run to the store to buy an outfit instead of doing a load of laundry, you know shit is out of control.



So wish me luck!

Cycle Day 1

those words have never sounded so sweet...

AF has finally showed up, and although I am very uncomfortable, I am so relieved. I can't remember ever having a period like this. Heating pads are my friend.

In other news, my peace with God was short-lived. My grandfather had a heart attack Saturday night. He had surgery today. When it rains, it friggen pours.

I don't know how much more I can handle. I find myself wondering what the fuck I did to deserve all of this shit. I am seeing the shrink this afternoon, I bet she will have a field day with this shit...

A death, a birth, and a few scorpion bowls

I went to church yesterday for the first time since the miscarriage. My great-aunt died and my family and I went to the funeral. I didn't forsee this being one of the things that sparks an all-out breakdown. Alas, it did. Here I was sitting in church, sandwiched between my dad and brother when it was time for communion. For anyone who hasn't gathered it from my previous blog posts, I just haven't been that happy with God lately. After receiving communion I knelt and prayed. I prayed for Aunt Rita's soul, I prayed for my Uncle Jack, I prayed for her children, grandchildren, and anyone else who is greiving. And then I realized that I never prayed for my baby. I never prayed for Baby Rootbeer's little soul. I started to cry a little but managed to hold it together until the service was over. When everyone had finally filed out of the church, I snuck off to light a candle and pray just for my little Rootbeer. I cried harder than I have cried in a few weeks. I have been holding it all in and trying to be strong, and this was my moment to let it out and do what I should have done a long time ago. I made peace with God. I asked him to take care of my little one until I got there. I begged him to bless Mr. Rootbeer and I with children, if that is his plan for us.

After the funeral I headed over to the hospital to welcome the newest addition to our family. My littlest cousin, "Baby Izy" was born Wednesday night. I was nervous walking in. I didn't want to cry or look upset, and take anything away from her day. But when I walked in, I couldn't have been any happier. She is so tiny and precious. I sat there holding her for about an hour, talking to her proud parents about the birth. I kissed her little nose, rocked her, and told her how much I loved her and how happy I was to finally meet her. I knew my entire family was watching me and exchanging nervous looks, and secretly gauging my reaction.

After the hospital I went home to let the doggies out and take a nap. I slept for about a half hour, and then the fun began. My friends and I try to get together once a week for dinner, it usually works out to twice a month due to scheduling conflicts and such. Last night four of us went out to a Japanese grill. The food was delicious, the scorpion bowls were strong, and the conversation was highly inappropriate. After we had had our fill we couldn't bear to leave each other yet, so we continued the festivities at a favorite local hangout. 4 beers, 4 cigars, and 4 drunk girls later...we finally left. I stumbled home and Mr. Rootbeer took advantage of me :) It was a fantastic night.

I'll Have You Know...

that I still have those damn pregnancy pimples on my chest, even though I have been officially un-pregnant for almost 5 weeks now

that I ate an entire 1/2 gallon of pinstripe brownie ice cream on Sunday night

that I have a blister on my heel from the stupid shoes I stupidly decided to wear yesterday and today

that Mr. Rootbeer made dinner for the first time ever last night

that I have about 13 loads of dirty clothes lying all over my house

that I have zero inclination to wash any of those clothes in the near future

that I would get another puppy in a second if only Mr. Rootbeer weren't so mean/sensible

CD 32

Today marks cycle day 32. This is the longest cycle I think I have ever had. I can only compare the anxiety I am feeling about getting my period to the way I felt when I got my first period. It is unknown. When will it come?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Accomplishment

I did not cry once today. This is BIG. I have cried at least once a day since losing Baby Rootbeer. Granted, there are still 3.75 hours left in the day, however, I think I can make it. I am healing and finally getting back into a "normal" routine.

I went to see a shrink yesterday. I call her that because I don't know what else to call her. I went because my parents wanted me too. I am not one to do things because others want me to, but I secretly thought it was a decent idea. She was very nice, she asked me a lot of questions, and she said some things that make a ton of sense. I am going back next week. I think she can help me get to a place mentally where I am ready to try to get pregnant again.

I have learned that everyone deals with pregnancy loss differently. Some can't wait to try again, and some need to take time before they can even fathom the idea of being pregnant again. I fall somewhere in the middle of the two. Of course I want to get pregnant again. I yearn to be a momma more than I ever thought possible. But at the same time, I am scared. Scared of pregnancy, scared of ultrasounds, but most of all scared of losing another one. Many women go on to have success after a miscarriage, and many miscarry again. I need to be prepared for whatever hand life is going to deal me next. It is entirely possible that my feelings on this will change as soon as my period shows up. That's when we officially have the green light from the Dr. But for now, I am concentrating on making myself as strong as possible. Physically and emotionally. I am concentrating on making my marriage as strong as possible. And I am enjoying as much of life as possible.

Life can be so funny. It can be so good but yet so bad at the very same moment. As hard as that can be sometimes, it is also amazing. Because in our darkest hours, there is still something positive to focus on, even if we cannot see it at the moment. I have an incredible husband, who adores me.

Just Those Few Weeks

This poem was posted by a fellow nestie. I thought it was perfect and could bring some comfort to someone.

Just Those Few Weeks

For those few weeks-
I had you to myself.
And that seems too short of time
To be changed so profoundly.

In those few weeks-
I came to know you...
And to love you.
You came to trust me with your life.
Oh, what a life I had planned for you!

Just those few weeks-
When I lost you,
I lost a lifetime of hopes,
plans, dreams, and aspirations...
A slice of my future simply vanished overnight

Just those few weeks-
It wasn't enough time to convince others
How special and important you were.
How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
And no one is mourning the passing.

Just a mere few weeks-
And no "normal" person would cry all night
Over a tiny, unfinished baby,
Or get depressed and withdraw day after endless day.
No one would, so why am I?

You were just those few weeks my little one
You darted in and out of my life too quickly.
But it seems that's all the time you needed
To make my life so much richer-
And give me a small glimpse of eternity

By Susan Erlin

Bittersweet

My Dad hired me a personal trainer. This is fantastic and friggen horrible at the same time.

It is fantastic because I am dropping weight like pigeons drop shit. It is horrible because I have to get up at 4:00 am every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday so I can get my ass kicked.

I wish I would just get my period already, so Mr. Rootbeer and I can get back into the baby making business. The anxiety of not knowing when it will show is driving me insane.

I feel pretty good lately. I know the excercise is helping. It feels good to lose weight. My clothes fit better, my face looks slimmer. I feel amazing. It also helps me focus on something else besides getting pregnant again. I need another goal. Becoming a mommy has been my goal for the past 8 months, and now that I have been forced to move that to the back burner, I need something new to focus on.

I went to my parents house last night to jump in the hot tub, since I could barely walk due to the 36 flights of stairs I ran up and down on Monday morning. While I was there my mom gave me a pile of mail that had come to their house for me. Inside the pile sat a ticking time bomb. I know she knew it was in there, because she had gotten one too. An invitation to my cousins' baby shower. I opened the envelope and rolled my eyes when I saw the cute little stork on the front of the card. I winced when the registry card for Babies R Us fell into my hand.

I am so happy for my cousin, she has been trying to concieve this little one for over 4 years. I was so elated when I first found out she had finally gotten pregnant. And now I am just an asshole. My joy for her is gone. I am dreading the day of the shower. I will die if they make me play those stupid baby shower games. I know I will struggle watching her open gifts. I know my time will come and GOD willing, I will have my baby. But, I want that baby. I want that baby more than anyone will ever understand. I want back all the bloating, all the nausea, the puking. I want it all back, because it meant I was pregnant and it was nothing compared to the pain I am feeling right now.

Alas, I am going to go. I have to. I will have my mom go shopping for the gift. I will hide in the bathroom while she opens them and everybody ooohhhs and ahhhhs. And I will sit outside and smoke an entire pack of cigarettes while my aunts and cousins play "Guess Mom's Belly Size."

This miscarriage has made me so bitter. Which in turn makes me sad. I want to be happy for my cousin, I want to play the games, and gawk at the onesies and crib bedding. I know that deep inside I am happy for her, it's just that my coping skills are currently a work-in-progress.

Ohhh, I almost forgot, I went to a Dave Matthews Band show on Saturday night and some pretty amazing shit happened...more to come later. It deserves its own post. A post with not one single mention of babies.

finding the peace within...

I think I am finally starting to really deal with the miscarriage. The D&C was exactly two weeks ago today. I am actually processing everything that has happened and is still happening. Things were blurry at first. Maybe I was in shock. I think I was so overwhelmed with greif and anger that I was unable to feel anything else. I also don't think the xanax was doing me any good besides helping me fall asleep. So I stopped taking it a week ago today. I was thriving on the low it made me feel. I could sit and stare at nothing and speak to noone for hours and not care. I didn't want to leave my house. I didn't want to take calls or visitors. That is not me. I am friendly and outgoing. I am vibrant and fun. And I refuse to allow this unfortunate happening to change me completely as a person.



I had a sickening moment last Friday, which made me realize that I needed a break from the xanax. I was watching TV with Mr. Rootbeer when a commercial came on for some new show on MTV about pregnant teenagers. Girls who get pregnant by accident in the back of a Civic. My knee jerk reaction took over me. I flipped the double bird at the TV and I yelled out "Fucking Whores." And then it hit me. I AM one of those babies. My parents were 18 when they got pregnant with me, and I have always thought my mother so brave for not taking the easy way out and stepping up to her responsibilities. My father as well I should add.



I immediately started to cry hysterically. I was hyperventilating. At that moment I realized what I had allowed to happen. I allowed myself to be changed by the miscarriage. It hurt so bad to realize what I had become. I would have NEVER reacted like that before. Those girls are brave women. They are taking responsibility and accountability for their own actions and their decisions, and I truly commend them for that. It is not their fault that my baby died. It doesn't work like that.

I am so sick of everyone looking at me and treating me differently, so I have just been pretending nothing happened. I go about my daily routine, I smile fake smiles, and everyone is happy. And it really is much better than wallowing around in my misery all day, it feels pretty good actually. I feel like things are going back to normal, as normal as things can be right now. I also stopped taking the Xanax. I think it is making me worse and it is making the grief last longer than it has to.

I realize that I will always be sad on some level about losing this baby. But, I am ready for the gut-wrenching grief to go away. For the moments that I find myself curled up in a ball, crying on my floor to become less and less common. I am ready to heal. I want to find peace within this unfortunate situation so badly. And I think getting back into a routine is the way to get there. I really do. The problem comes when we go to bed. I still CANNOT sleep without the Xanax.

Here's how last night went down...

10:30 pm...Mr. Rootbeer falls asleep on the couch

11:30 pm...I wake him up, drag his ass upstairs into bed, and crawl under the covers

11:32 pm...Mr. Rootbeer is OUT COLD snoring and sprawled out, I am watching the tonight show

12:00 am...I turn off the TV and attempt to fall asleep

1:00 am...I am still not really sleeping, I am drifting in and out of conciousness, tons of thoughts going through my head.

sometime around 1:30 am...I finally fall asleep

4:00 am...I am up again

I am not used to this. I LOVE to sleep. I used to come home from work, take a nap, and then go to bed at 9pm. This sucks. I am a zombie today. This isn't good for anyone. Tonight I may try taking 1/2 of a Xanax before bedtime.

I am thankful for...

my husband

the outreach and support of family, friends, e-friends, e-strangers

my puppies

my parents

my comfy bed

my gardens

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." Gilda Ratner

Helter Skelter

That is what this post will be, a mish moshed rambing of a whole bunch of random shit. I promise that the entire entry won't be depressing and bitter. I will work my way up to the good stuff. I will warn you that my emotions are raw. You may not like what you read.

People say really dumb shit to you after they learn you have had a miscarriage. And at this point in the game, I am not excelling at filtering my responses.

"At least you know you can get pregnant." - That's a good one. Probably the most common one I have heard. My response to this is usually "What is your point?"

"This too shall pass." - Ok, the first 2 times I heard this one, I wasn't really sure what the intentional meaning was...so the 3rd, 4th, 5th...times I responded with "What exactly do you mean?" I mean really, what is that supposed to mean? I am not being sarcastic, I am being as serious as a heart attack.

"This is God's plan for you." - Let me begin by saying that this is the only one on the list that actually makes sense. In fact, my faith in God is the second most important thing getting me through this right now. My amazing husband is the first. The only reason that it is even on this list is because it makes me mad. And it makes me mad because I am mad at God right now. Yup, little Mrs. Rootbeer is mad at God. I am mad at him because women who smoke crack and don't take prenatals have perfectly healthy pregnancies, and I lost a baby. I took my vitamins, I didn't smoke crack. See my point? No? I don't care. Oh yeah, and I don't even respond to this one I just roll my eyes. It's really the best I can do.

"Now you guys can practice." - I am assuming this is a "cute" way of saying we have an excuse to have sex now. Hmmm...last time I checked we didn't need any other excuse besides the fact that we like to. Glad we got that one out of the way. I roll my eyes at this one too.

Ohhhh I got a good one...

"You know, having a miscarriage is as common as having your wisdom teeth removed." - I have only heard this little gem once. I was caught a little off guard, so I said, "Ok well they can remove all my teeth and give me my baby back." Yeah, can you say uncomfortable?

This next one really hurts my feelings and makes me want to cry everytime I hear it...

"Well, at least this happened now, your body knows something wasn't developing right." - Ok, there is a pretty strong possibility that my body did what is is supposed to do and naturally terminated the pregnancy. I know and understand this. But there is no need to mention it. Also, when you say it like that, you are presuming that I would not have had this baby if there were such a complication and my body had allowed the baby to develop a heartbeat. Which is wrong. I would not terminate a pregnancy for any reason. It is my own choice and it's none of your business. So just don't say that. Ok?

And this one today was my fav...

"It just wasn't the right time, hunny, ya know? The economy is so shitty." - Bwahahahahahahahahaha yes, I laughed. There was nothing else to do. I laughed so hard I almost cried, and it felt so good.

And do you know what happened? She laughed too, kinda nervously, she was probably afraid I was losing my shit. But I really thought that was funny. So, right then and there I have decided that when someone says something dumb to me about my unfortunate situation, I am just going to laugh at them. Because it makes me feel better and it makes them feel bad, instead of me feeling bad because they have said one of the above phrases and them feeling better because they have offered me some sort of "wisdom."

And, let me also say that I know that people have no idea what to say to me right now. And I also know that 98.4% of the people saying these things are people that love me. They mean nothing but to comfort me, I am just bitter.

But really, they don't need to say much, all they need to say is "I'm sorry." And for all those women out there who have had perfectly healthy pregnancies and beautiful chubby babies, don't feel guilty when you talk to a woman who has gone through something like me, or something even worse. Feel lucky. Thank God. (or your lucky stars if you don't believe in God) Appreciate your blessings.

Ok enough about that. The good news is that after the D&C, my doctor prescribed me xanax. It is glorious, especially since I hadn't slept in two days.

On Saturday, Mr. Rootbeer and I decided it was time to get out of the house. So, we went to Lowe's. We bought TONS of flowers. Any flowers I wanted, I got. We got yellow grecian roses, lavander, lilacs, lilies, daisies, etc Mr. Rootbeer also wanted to re-mulch the gardens, so we did that as well. The yard looks amazing. I felt so accomplished. I got a total high from working as a team with my husband and seeing our backyard vision come to fruition. Here are some pics.

I think you all are probably sick of hearing about how unbelievable my husband is. But, you guessed it, I don't care. You should have married him. He is really that wonderful. And not only is he so friggen awesome, he is also really handsome. On Friday night he said something to the effect of "soon we can forget all of this ever happened." And I lost it, I started to cry and I told him I didn't want to forget my baby. So Saturday morning he gave me this gift:

It's a beautiful little angel charm for my bracelet. He said it was a little something for me to remember our baby. I love it. I love him.

Mr. Rootbeer loves to fish. So to show my appreciation for him, I accepted his invitation to go fishing yesterday. And guess what happened? I caught a freakin fish! A brown one, with spots! It was awesome, he was so proud of me. And I was very proud of myself. I wanted to take a picture holding it but I just couldn't touch it. So, I settled for a picture of Mr. Rootbeer holding the fish. Here are some pictures for your enjoyment:

This is a picture of Mr. Rootbeer waiting for me to hurry up. I had flip flops on and that path was covered with very pointy sticks and pine needles which did not agree with my choice of shoewear.

This is a picture of the beautiful pond we went to fish.

That's the fish I caught!!!

And for the rest of the weekend, I pretty much just did this...

I love my dogs. They are such good snugglers.

May 20, 2009

Tuesday I had some light spotting and cramping, I decided to call the Dr. in the late afternoon, just to be safe. They told me to call Wednesday morning and let them know if I had any more spotting. I barely slept Tuesday night, I must have woken up 20 times in the middle of the night to check. I was so worried about the possibility of something being wrong, but I honestly thought everything was ok.

Wednesday morning I called the Dr.'s office and told the nurse that I had a little spotting the night before but nothing today. She told me to come in at 10:30 and I would seeing Dr. L. She said that this was just for reassurance and I shouldn't worry. She said he may want to send me for some bloodwork. She said to come to the NH office, I knew the ultrasound machine is in the H office, so I didn't think I would be having an ultrasound. I called Mr. Rootbeer and told him about the appointment. I knew he wouldn't be able to make the appointment because he was an hour away and he still had customers to see in that area, and although I was nervous, I was sure everything would be ok. And it was then that I made one of the dumbest decisions. Mr. Rootbeer and I work for our families business, and I could have decided to have him leave and rush to the appointment with me. But I was thinking as a business owner at that point, and not as a wife. I was thinking with my left brain at that moment, and not with my right. I have always had an independent streak. I have always known that I could do things on my own. I figured someday it would bite me in the ass, well that day was yesterday. I didn't reschedule my husbands' appointments, I didn't call my Mom and tell her I had an appointment, I didn't beg my friend who worked down the street to meet me, I just hopped in my car and drove myself.

I had never met Dr. L before. In fact, this was my first time seeing anyone at this practice because I switched practices a few weeks ago. I went in to see the Dr and I was calm. He was very nice, and exactly what I wanted in a Dr, I thought to myself, I would love for this Dr to deliver my baby. The baby I assumed was growing and thriving inside my belly.

Dr. L said he was going to do an ultrasound, I stupidly thought it was so sad that I was going to see our baby for the first time without my husband, but Dr. L assured me he would give me plenty of pictures to bring home for him. We headed for the ultrasound room, I undressed, sat on the exam table, and waited. It was right then that I remembered why I was there, I remembered the spotting and the cramping. I started to pray. I prayed that the baby would be on that huge screen in front of me, with its tiny heart beating away.

Dr. L came in, and I watched the screen nervously. I knew something wasn't right almost immediately. Maybe because I could see the nurse biting her lip and glancing nervously from the Dr. to me, and back again. And then he started to talk...

Mrs. Rootbeer, let me explain to you what you are looking at. Blah, blah blah...your baby has stopped growing....blah blah blah...there is no heartbeat...blah blah blah....I can't remember what else was said.

I lost my shit. I was alone and staring at a 51 inch image of my dead baby inside of me. I started to cry. They handed me tissues, removed the probe and left me to get dressed. I started to sob uncontrollably. The rest of the day was a blur. I had to break the news to my poor husband over the phone, sitting on the ground in a parking lot. I don't even know how I managed the 1/2 hour drive home, I don't even remember driving. I called my Mom and she was scared. More scared than I have ever known her to be.

My phone rang all day, I couldn't bring myself to answer it. I don't want to talk to anyone. Mostly because people don't know what to say to me, and I don't have much to say to them. I know I am miserable and bitter and angry.

All I can say is that I love my husband more than anything in the entire world. He is such an amazing man and I am so very lucky to be his wife and to have his love and support. I know he is hurting, he told me yesterday that he is absolutely devastated, but is trying to be strong for me. I know that we will get through this together. But I also know I will never be the same. Something was taken from me yesterday and I know I will never get it back. Maybe it was the last of my innocence. I don't know.

Tomorrow, I will have a surgical procedure to remove my baby from my body.

Sunday Funday!

Chris along with some friends and family worked very hard on Sunday to install central air in our home. I can't wait to hit a button and not have to worry about sweating my pregnant ass off this summer. They went into the attic and they found a huge nest of birds! The momma bird was feeding the babies and it was the cutest thing I've ever seen. Well, I didn't exactly see it for myself, my Dad took pictures for me.

I am really grossed out by these birds living in my attic, but what am I supposed to do? Throw the baby birds into the wild? I couldn't! They are too young and need their momma bird. Oh well, they will be long gone by the time Baby Rootbeer comes.

While the boys were workin' hard on the air conditioning, I got out of there as fast as humanly possible. I spent the day with three fabulous nesties! We met at the Roosevelt Square Mall in Long Island, for a fun-filled day of shopping, spinach artichoke dip, and chocolate covered gummy bears. It was awesome! Check out some of our pics below!

Bubba, Thusa, Me and Weeeeee :)

The low point of the day HAD to have been on my drive home. After we got to Thusa's, I jumped in my car for my hour drive home. I was on my way to the highway, driving down a dirt road when morning sickness suddenly came over me. I couldn't pull over because the road was literally not large enough for another car to pass me! So, being the resourceful woman that I am, I reached into the backseat and found a paper bag to vomit into, while still driving. Noone can ever say I am not multi -talented. I called Mr. Rootbeer to tell him I was on my way home, and what had happened and he laughed at me for about 5 full minutes. Thanks Mr. Rootbeer, thanks.

Yummm

Mr. Rootbeer and I went out for pizza with his parents last night. We went to my fav pizza spot on the earth, Sally's in New Haven on Wooster Street. The crust is thin and crispy and the pizza literally melts in your mouth. I am drooling just thinking about it. Mr. Rootbeer and his Dad shared a sausage and peppers pie, and Mom and I shared a tomato, broccoli, and garlic white pie. I have some in the fridge at home waiting for me to eat it.

Besides the yummy pizza, yesterday was a terrible day for morning sickness. I woke up at 4:00am for a meeting and hopped in the shower. As I was washing my hair I started feeling a little dizzy and lightheaded. Before I knew it, I was throwing up in the shower. I had to get to work for a 6:30am meeting, so after dry heaving for about an hour, I managed to get myself dressed and ready to go. I rushed out the door, drove to work, and walked in to a dark, empty conference room. ?????

The meeting had been cancelled the night before, and nobody bothered to let me know. I found this out after sitting at a coworkers desk for 20 minutes texting and calling everyone I could to find out what w as going on. When I finally got the news it was 6:50, I locked up the office, and headed home. On the way home, I called my Mom and started to cry hysterically. These hormones are really starting to get to me. I was so upset because I realyl could have used the extra sleep and I was so mad that noone called me. I ended up getting back into bed with Mr. Rootbeer, he is amazing. When I came into the room crying like a big baby I woke him up and scared him, he pulled me into bed and scratched my back until I fell asleep and got an extra hour of sleep. By the time I went back to work I was over it. But the nausea wasn't done with me. I felt like I was going to puke all day long. But I didn't. I kind of wish I had. I feel better once I do most times.

Tomorrow I am going on a special day trip with some very special ladies. I will reveal more with pictures on Monday. And while I am gone, Mr. Rootbeer, my dad, and some friends will be installing our central air. THANK SWEET BABY JESUS! I cannot go through another summer sweating, and especially not this summer carrying an extra 20 lbs or so around.

Baby Maxim

Mr. Rootbeer and I will be watching a friend's baby tonight. His name is Maxim, and he is the custest little thing ever. I am so excited. I offered to watch him to give his Momma a break to go get a much needed and even more deserved manicure. Wish me luck!

Brotherly Love

I have been dying to tell my little brother that Baby Rootbeer is on the way. He has been away at college for the past few months and this will be his first neice/nephew. My brother and I are really close and I knew he would be so excited. So on Monday after his last final my Dad drove to Rhode Island to pick him up for the summer. He came over and I broke the news. He was so excited!!! So excited, in fact, that the next day he posted it on his facebook page. We have decided not to tell everyone until we have our first appointment, so I called him and make him take it down immediatelty. Thank god I caught it early on.

In other news, my TTC sidekick Bubbalini is knocked up!!! I am so excited for her, and also for me :) I secretly hoped we would end up being pregnant together. Even if our pregnancies only overlapped for a few months, but it worked out better than I could have planned. We are 15 days apart. It is so perfect. We shared the majority of the experience of trying to concieve our first children and now we are going to share the experience of having our first children. I never thought I would meet someone online and become such amazing friends and support systems for each other in such a short amount of time. I am going to pray every night for the safe and healthy deliveries of our babies.

5 week bloat pic

My first "belly" pic, although it's all bloat. I know this because I can barely zip my pants and I have lost 3 lbs. I am pretty sure people at work think I am getting fat. They see me stuffing my face all day long and I am sure they notice me pulling uncomfortably at my clothes, especially my pants. I am going to get a bella band this weekend. I don't care if I am only 5 1/2 weeks, my stomach is officially no longer flat and I am not going to have my pants leaving red marks on my tummy everyday for the sake of not caving to the bella band.

In other news, morning sickness reared its ugly head yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling really nauseated. When I finally got out of bed and brushed my teeth I started dry heaving in the sink...disgusting. The thought of brushing my teeth makes my mouth water and not in a good way.

Let me just say I am not complaining, I am so happy to be pregnant with this baby. I pray every night before I fall asleep that the baby will stick and we will make it safely into the second trimester. I just need to hear Baby Rootbeer's heartbeat. I know that will be the most amazing sound I will ever hear in my life until I hear my baby cry for the first time.

Dream a little dream

I have had two glorious dreams about Baby Rootbeer so far. Both times I woke up so happy. Last night I dreamt that Mr. Rootbeer and I went for the big ultrasound and the Dr was unable to see if Baby Rootbeer was a boy or a girl. So, we came home and painted both bedrooms, one pink and one blue. just in case.

In other news, we have had some recent visitors in the form of raccoons. Apparently they were huge fans of the stuffed shells I made Sunday night. Gross.

2nd beta is back

Hcg went from 86 on Thursday to 342 Today! Perfect! Baby Rootbeer is doing excellent!!!

Bye Bye Birdie!

I switched my Dr today. I had to, this was getting out of control and I was feeling so weighed down by the whole thing. After going for my second set of bloodwork today I have had enough. They actually told me to stop reading books. Um...NO. I read, that's what I do. If you want uneducated patients, then I guess we are not a good fit. She also told me she doesn't care for birth plans. This is all wrong. I always liked her, but things are different now, we aren't sitting in her office throwing around different birth control options. Also, she only delivers at one hospital and this isn't the hospital I ever wanted to deliver in. Yale is 15 minutes from me. I always wanted to deliver at Yale. If god forbid, something were to happen with Baby Rootbeer I would want to be in the best hospital. If I needed a c-section, where would I want to be? I have decided to start looking for a midwife. After reading a nestie's blog about her midwife experience, I know that's what I am looking for.

Holy Pregnancy Pimples

I have zits. One huge zit on my face, right below my nose. It is seriously the biggest zit I have EVER had. And apparently Clearsil is out of the question now. I also have one on my arm! Yes that's right, my arm. I also have two sprouting up on my hairline. This is just great. I feel like I am 13 again. I really hope that this isn't going to last my whole pregnancy.



I called my OB on Tuesday and told them I had a postive HPT. They told me to stop by on Thursday so that they could do a blood test to confirm. So, Thursday came and I ran over to the Dr. and they took some blood. They also scheduled an appointment for our first ultrasound. May 20th! I was floating on a cloud after I left. I feel great and I can't wait to hear Baby Rootbeer's heartbeat. I will be 7 weeks on May 20th, that seems a little early to me for an ultrasound, but I won't complain. The receptionist told me to call Friday morning around 9:30 for the results of the blood test.



Friday morning I came to work and was counting the minutes til 9:30, when it finally came I dialed the number and had butterflies in my stomach. The receptionist said she would call me back in a few minutes with the results. 11:30 rolled around and I still hadn't heard anything, and being as impatient as I am, I called again. She put me on hold and said I need to speak to the nurse. The nurse came on and said, you are pregnant, but very early on. Duh, I know this lady. She said my beta came back at 86. She said they want me to come in Monday for more bloodwork and then again in another week. Then she asked me again when was my LMP, I told her March 31st, and she says "hmmmmm...that can't be right." So I asked "why not?" And then she said "so then you aren't even late yet." I told her that my period was due last Sunday April 26th and that my cycles are 26 days. So I will go in tomorrow for another beta and pray that the number has doubled.

Baby Rootbeer is on the way!

I am pregnant. Knocked the fuck up. Bun in the oven. Holy shit.

Last night Mr. Rootbeer and I went out for a wonderful hibachi dinner. It was delicious! I was a day late for my period. I had planned on testing today but I couldn't wait anymore, I have been soooo patient. And my chart has been looking beauteous! So after consulting my trusty TTC sidekick Bubbalini, I decided to hold my pee for a few hours and see what happened.

After dinner I had some spotting, my heart sank. I thought to myself "its over". But I was wrong. I peed on the stick and I saw a faint line!!! I couldn't believe my eyes. I ran into the living room where Mr. Rootbeer was watching the Yankees game, shoved it in his face and said "What do you see?" He said he saw a line, and then he asked why it was so light. He looked so happy but apprehensive at the same time. I sent pictures to Bubbalini to see what she thought and she said she thought she might be able to see them. I decided I would test again today with FMU.

I had a really hard time falling asleep. I kept telling myself that if for some reason AF shows her ugly face that I will not be upset, a little disappointed but not upset. We gave it everything we had this cycle. We used the preseed, I was so dilligent about testing, our timing was perfect, and I was very well behaved during the 2ww, minus the scorpion bowl I drank by myself the night we concieved.

So, I woke up at 5 am this morning ran into the bathroom and peed into a cup, dipped the stick in, and waited....

Suddenly, a beautiful little plus sign appeared before me! I ran back into the bedroom, knocking the cup full of pee all over the floor, and jumped onto the bed. We laid there and just smiled for about a half hour. And I haven't stopped smiling yet.

The only symptom I think I can claim as of now is total exhaustion. I cannot wait to get out of work today and nap...

I hate the 2ww

That's what we in "the biz" call the two week wait. The biz of trying to concieve that is. IT SUCKS. It is two torturous weeks of hell. Analyzing every symptom, questioning every little "feeling". I'm absolutely positive that it drives Mr. Rootbeer crazy. He probably thinks I'm psychotic. Maybe I am...

This cycle has been worse than the cycles that have gone before. I know it's because my chart is looking so damn pretty this cycle.

My period is due Sunday. I am keeping my fingers crossed until then.

Say a little prayer...

for my newest and dearest friend. She needs them today. Thanks.

Rain rain go away...

The weather here has been so depressing lately. Overcast skies coupled with light drizzling most of the day doesn't exactly make you want to run outside. Last night Mr. Rootbeer and I were watching a movie, the dogs were sleeping on my legs, and all the sudden a HUGE crash of thunder crackled outside. The dogs jumped up and started barking for the next 10 minutes. Annoying.

But there is a positive side of this bad weather. It's baby making time and for some reason the dreary weather is synonymous with bed shaking in the Rootbeer household :)

I went to the store to buy deodorant a few nights ago, Mr. Rootbeer said "I think I threw out the tampon box yesterday, it was empty." I guess he was trying to tell me I should buy another box. But I don't want to. I don't want to need tampons, because I don't want to get my period this cycle. I find it ironic that for the last ten years of my life, getting my period was relieving. And now, it is a major disappointment.

Mr. Rootbeer was always the confident, optimistic one. When I would get upset when Aunt Flo showed her ugly face, he would say "don't worry, its only been a few months." But last cycle I saw something different. I saw the doubt in his face when I told him my period had come. It broke my heart. I know all he wants is to be a Dad, and it breaks my heart that I can't just snap my fingers and give that gift to him. So, I had to switch modes, put on my best "it's ok" face, and assure him that I feel really good about this next cycle.

And I do, we are trying a few new things this cycle. We need to try something, its getting stressful and sad, and I never wanted it to be this way. I always wanted it to be such a happy and joyous experience, and I know it will be once I do get pregnant. Mr. Rootbeer says we will appreciate the gift of pregnancy more now, since we had to wait a little for it. I know he is right.

In comparision to others, I know our wait has been a short one. I guess I am just coming to the realization that things did not work out the way I thought they would. But that's ok. That's life, and there is nothing I can do but pray.

A Very Productive Weekend

I got the wedding gown dropped off. The thank yous are done. Edits were emailed to the photographer today.

I also managed to squeeze in some tres important bonding time with my mom, as well as some much needed retail therapy at Ann Taylor. I bought the most adorable Easter dress.

Weekend = Success

Split Personalities

I am a typical type A personality...most of the time.

Type A individuals can be described as impatient, excessively time-conscious, insecure about their status, highly competitive, hostile and aggressive, and incapable of relaxation. They are often high achieving workaholics who multi-task, drive themselves with deadlines, and are unhappy about the smallest of delays. Because of these characteristics, Type A individuals are often described as "stress junkies" (Wikipedia)

Sometimes I think I suffer from some sort of split personality disorder. When it comes to things that are important, yet not urgent, I just can't seem to get them done in a timely manner. For example, I have been married for roughly 6 months and I still haven't finished writing out the Thank Yous. I know, I know conventional etiquette generously allows up to one year from the date of the wedding. But when people all around you have gotten married since and you have received their thank yous, you start to feel a little rude.

Furthermore, my wedding gown along with my cathedral length, pain-in-the-ass veil are still hanging in my office closet, clad with the dust and dirt they picked up on our wedding night. And, I still have not sent my final edits in regard to our wedding album to the photographer so that I can finally get our album.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME???

Why am I so on task with everything in my life but I can't seem to sew up everything from the wedding? Am I subconsciously holding on to the wedding? Hahaha! That makes me chuckle. I am so relieved that the wedding is finally over and our life has calmed down again. I need to harness my type A, anal retentive, bitch tendencies to fight the evil that is lingering wedding bullshit.

It is my goal to get it all out of my life this weekend. I am vowing to get the dress and veil back to the dress shop to be cleaned and packed up, to get all the thank yous in the mail, and e-mail the final edits and selections to the photographer. It needs to be done!

So much for all the gardening I wanted to do this weekend...

Happy Hump Day

I have two jobs, one is my "real" job, the one that makes up 90% of my income and takes up 90% of my time. My real job is full of bosses, employees, coffee breaks, ringing phones, overtime, and just plain old bullshit. The second is my "fun" job, I am a Pampered Chef Independent Consultant, andI cannot wait until the day that I can make my "fun" job full-time. The day that I won't have to worry about all of the things that come along with working a 9-5. When that day comes I will be able to stop celebrating every Wednesday of every week.

The Rootbeers

I have decided to start a blog, in the hopes of finding a place of solace. A journal or diary of sorts. I am unsure if anyone will actually read it. Maybe someone, somewhere will read a post and find something valuable. Maybe not.

Let me start by saying that this blog will not be entirely about trying to concieve, or being a newlywed. Although, at times I'm sure I will post about these topics, since they are huge peices of the proverbial pie, that is my life.

So, let's begin...

Mr. Rootbeer and I were married on October 10, 2008, after dating for 4ish years and knowing each other for about 10 years. It was the single most incredible day of my life, to date. Let me tell you, I have married the most amazing man on the face of earth. He is handsome, caring, and strong. But what I love about him most, is the look his eyes. Whenever I look into his eyes, I melt. Puddle on the floor, weak in the knees, aching feeling deep in my heart kind of melt. I trust those eyes. I love those eyes. I secretly pray that when I finally see our children, I will discover they have inherited those eyes. I not-so-secretly hope that they inherit his beautiful lips, since mine are on the small and puny side. Hopefully we will concieve these phantom children soon.