Blessed

I don't think I have ever felt so blessed in my entire life.

I know my post earlier didn't really express it, but I was so scared walking into that appointment today.

This baby and I have come so far together. And I am in love.

In love with someone I have never even met.

How strange is it to think that there is someone living inside of you, but yet you've never met them?

Anyway, the baby is perfect and growing big and strong.

The blood was from a polyp on my cervix that has been bleeding.

And the best part was that the ultrasound tech was able to tell that Baby Root is a GIRL!

It was such a wonderful moment, I will never forget it. And I am so thankful that I was able to experience it.

I am truly blessed.

Tomorrow....maybe

Last week Mr. Rootbeer and I went to an appointment. It was an ultrasound we paid out of pocket for to find out if Baby Root is made of sugar, spice and everything nice or frogs, snails, and puppy dog tails.

And it was a huge disappointment.

The tech said something to the degree of, "well it looks like maybe a girl"

To which I responded, "well that doesn't sound too positive"

Ya know, I wish he just said, "I can't tell, the baby is scrunched up and you need to come back next week."

I have waited to hear those three words "IT'S A ____!" for so long.

And now it's pretty anti-climactic.

So folks, we will go back tomorrow to confirm.

What do you think?

Boy or Girl?

Internet...meet Baby Root

Time for a Makeover

It is high time this blog got a makeover. I am thinking about making the move over to wordpress, but for now, I will be here.

I am sure you've noticed I haven't been posting much. The truth is that there is not much more to say about TTC, miscarriage, and infertility right now.



In fact, I am focusing on other things right now in my life. Things that are happy and cheery and most importantly things that I have control over.

And of course I will be sharing them with you!

I am off to my first quilting class today.

Mr. Rootbeer bought me a sewing machine for my birthday last month. And I was bursting at the seams (pun intended) to learn how to use it. So, I signed up for a quilting class.

Which starts today!

So far I have successfully finished two projects: a shower curtain and a kitchen wetbag. More to come on those later.

Stay tuned faithful readers...

I guess it is high time I update you, blog readers.

I am a week or so late for my period.

Don't get too excited. For, this is not good news. I am NOT PREGNANT.

I know this because my doc ordered a blood test on Monday morning, and it came back negative.

I am sure, right about now, you are all asking yourself the very question that has been dancing around in my pretty head for the past few days...

Why am I late?

The answer is unknown.

Did I ovulate?

Also unknown.

Why, you ask?

Because I stopped using the devil CBEFM on CD 20 when I did not see a peak fertility reading. Because I took the advice of my doc. (who will be called Dr. JustRelax from here forward)

You see, I called Dr. JustRelax last month when my period came. I was a hot crying mess of a patient. And Dr. JustRelax told me to...you guessed it. Relax, get a bottle of wine, light some candles, and see how that worked.

And, me, being the asshole I am, I listened.

And do you know what?

I have no fucking clue what happened this cycle. Which is clearly a problem, since today is CD 37.

Allow me to share with you, internet, how this convo went down yesterday.

ps. yesterday was also Baby Rootbeer's EDD.

pps. I had a long post written about it, but deleted it. Because it was a ranting raving mess and you all wouldn't have wanted to read it anyway. TRUST.

OK, I digress.

So here it is, and I am warning you now, that I will spare no details.

Monday Morning...

Mrs. R: Oh Hi! I am a pateint of Dr. JustRelax's and I am calling because I am a week late for my monthly gift *insert eyeroll here* and I am not sure what's going on.

Lori (AKA the nicest receptionist ever): Oh hi Mrs. Rootbeer, let me just pull your chart.

Silence

Lori: OK well Dr. JustRelax isn't here today because Dr's don't come back to work the Monday after New Year's like the rest of the world. (OK maybe she really didn't say the last part, but I know that's what she meant. ) but I am going to have you go down to have blood drawn. Due to your history, it is important to know if you are in fact pregnant.

Mrs. R: Ok, I will go now then.

And off I went. Straight to the lab, where I proceeded to wait in the waiting room amongst 14 coughing old people. (I am not exaggerating)

After about 45 minutes of covering my mouth and nose for fear of swine, I was in the chair getting the blood drawn.

Tuesday Morning...

:phone rings:

Mrs. R: Hello?????

Lori: Hi Mrs. R it's Lori. I am calling to let you know your bloodwork came back negative.

Mrs. R: Thank you for calling. (and ruining my already horrible, most dreaded day of the year) So Lori, what should I do about the fact that I am still not bleeding?

Lori: Well, I will have to have Dr. JustRelax call you.

An hour later...

:phone rings:

Mrs. R: Holla

Dr. JustRelax: Hey Mrs. R , it's Dr. JustRelax.

Mrs. R: Oh hey, so I guess you got the results of my bloodwork?

Dr. JustRelax: Yes, yes I did. And how late are you?

Mrs R: about a week now

Dr. JustRelax: and that is unusual for you right?

Mrs. R: yes

Dr. JustRelax: OK well what do you want to do?

***at this moment my mind started reeling....what do I want to do? Is this man really asking me this? Should I tell him that I have seriously contemplated hiring elves to steal Mr. Rootbeer's semen in the middle of the night so that I can squirt it up my vadge with a turkey baster? Or that I have had suspicions about whether I have been ovulating for a few months now***

Mrs. R: Well, what are my options? (this was a better answer, no?)

Dr. JR: Well, you can relax and see if your period comes on its own or I can give you a pill to make it come.

*THIS IS WHERE PURE MAGIC HAPPENED PEOPLE. Something inside me snapped. I am sick of everybody's advice, including Dr. JustRelax. I am sick of floundering through TTC, I am sick of TTC period.*

Mrs. R: Here's what we are going to do. Let's wait a week and see if my period comes on its own, and I will call you next Tuesday if it does not.

Dr. JR: That seems reasonable.

Mrs. R: ok well now that we have that squared away, I am not sure I ovulated this cycle, and I have had suspicions about this for a while now...

Dr. JR: Well, don't you use that monitor?

Mrs. R: YOU TOLD ME TO JUST RELAX!

Dr. JR: ok well if you are not ovulating, I can make you ovulate.

Mrs. R: :chuckle: Oh really? How?

Dr. JR: with a pill called Clomid. I'm sure you've already read all about it? (translation: I know you are one of those annoying chicks who researches everything on the internet)

Mrs. R: Actually, Dr JustRelax, I don't know very much about Clomid. (translation: hahahahaha you're wrong because I haven't even read about clomid and now I am going to run over to the nearest computer and read all the info available and by the next time we talk I will be an expert on clomid but I haven't yet so youre wrong hahahaha)

Dr. JR: well, clomid is a mild fertility treatment, and it does have a few side effects, but the most promiment one is that it doubles your risk of having twins.

Mrs. R: Well, beggars can't be choosers, right?

Dr. JR: Let's get you a period and then you can come in and we can discuss the options you have.

:end scene:

So, there you have it folks, it looks like my blog will be taking a turn in a different direction in 2010.

Infertility.


Thoughts?

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

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.

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.

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.