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.

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.

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.

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.

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