Ugh.

Evan has been battling a fever of 104 degrees the last 2 1/2 days, and has missed two school days in a row. He's miserable and it's been exhausting. His fever finally broke last night, enough where we could actually go out and get the dogs and cats food before they realized there was no more left come dinnertime tonight, and that was all we could handle. I need a nap, but I need to work and clean and organize and I just need a freaking nap. The last two weeks emotionally has caught up with me physically, and I'm exhausted. Evan is sleeping on the couch right now, so what am I doing? Laundry. Filing. Correspondence with business associates. And I need a freakin' nap.

Hubby goes out of town for all next week, and I'm starting to see spots from knowing how hard next week will be. Because, with my luck, I'll hit that "fertile window" exactly when he's out of town for us to try for kiddo number two again. And any other month, I'd suck it up, but this month, it will probably take me down to my knees. Because "trying" is the only control I have over the miscarriage. I'm actually praying to God that my whole system is messed up enough to make me at least a week off schedule for that "window" so that I don't lose my mind while he's gone. I've been fine up until I realized this morning that our attempts for #2 may be thwarted by an ill-timed business trip, and now I am hoping to god my body is messed up. What's up with that? Oh well. Final doctor's visit is tomorrow morning, and hopefully she'll tell me that it's not messed up, but just enough off course that hubby going out of town next week won't matter.

On another note, I'm currently surrounded by 4 dogs and a cat while I type, and it's cracking me up. We are watching a friend's dog, and she is the scardiest giant dog you'd ever meet. The cat is constantly stalking her, and if one dog/cat is laying in a door, she won't enter/exit that room at all. She won't make eye contact with the cat, as she is sure as all get out that eye contact will melt her down into a puddle of dog goo. The cat is seriously enjoying this. He has no fear to begin with, as he just walked up and sniffed the ear of our grumpy dog, and she just raised her eyebrows at him. Our friend's dog watched out of the side of her head, pretending like she wasn't watching, but totally was. Animal dynamics crack me up.

It's supposed to snow AGAIN tonight, and I'm just ready to quit. Can we move someplace where snow doesn't exist? And I'm not sure if I can handle one more "Ready for the snow?" comments from the neighbors. NO I'M NOT READY FOR THE SNOW! I'M READY FOR SOME FREAKIN' SUNSHINE AND 70 DEGREE WEATHER. But that's not very neighborly, is it? So I laugh and make some appropriate comment, when really I want to stomp my feet in protest like a 3 year old.

Speaking of 3 year olds, Evan is reading me bedtime stories now. We went out and bought him a bunch of level 1 and level 2 Learn-to-read books that are actually pretty cute, and he's reading TO ME. I love it. He gets stuck on some words, as he should, but he very carefully, and with proper inflection, reads me stories about Spiderman and Cars characters. Last night, I asked him what story he wanted me to read, and he said, "No Mommy, I read YOU a story!" and he did. It makes my heart ache with pride, especially when he gives each character it's own voice like we do with his stories at night. I love it.

We are also regularly reprimanded by him if we say "Stupid" or "But" (because he thinks it's "butt"), and he makes sure to point those words out on tv, since those are words that we have taught him are not nice to say. Normally, we wouldn't care about "butt", except every conversation became, "Did you have a good day, Evan?" "Yes, butt! It was a very butt day!" or songs simply became "Butt Butt Butt Butt Big Butty Butt". You seriously get sick of hearing the word butt when it is inserted into every sentence multiple times. It never ceases to amaze me how certain things are just programmed into little boys. Of course, when he got his hands dirty the other day and I made him use extra soap to get them clean, his use of "dammit" was pretty much my fault, and right on, though I asked him "What did you say?" and he repeated it perfectly. We have found that the best approach is either correcting him with a better alternative and telling him what he just said didn't make sense, or simply ignoring it and then later saying "darnit!" since he pays attention to exclamations. If we call him out on it and make a big deal about a certain word, it gets stashed into his arsenal of "things that tick off mom and dad". Believe me, he has quite the collection already. He's very proud. It should be huge by the time he's 16.

So, my rambling is pretty much done. I'm so tired I can't think straight and I can now hear him stirring on the couch, which means I've got about 30 seconds before I am bellowed at for a nose wiping. Adios for now.

Taking Charge

I was supposed to get my blood test results back today, and the damn dr.'s office is closed. What? Don't tell me to call when you won't freakin' be there. ARRRGGGH! So, I have to wait another day. So, Evan and I trekked out to take my mom to the doctor, and instead of sitting around feeling like I have no control while waiting for her, I went shopping.

We went to Carter's, since Evan needs new jammies, and I got teary eyed only once while fingering a soft little sleeper in newborn size, then decided that was enough of that. So, I bought a Onesie for the next baby. There. I'll show you, body. Ha. I then proceeded to buy Evan a ton of pajamas for next to nothing. Man, I love that store.

When I got home, low and behold, another friends is pregnant and sent me a picture of her digital pregnancy test via email. My screen shouted "PREGNANT" at me, and my eyes welled up with tears. This is massive improvement over sobbing 4 days ago, so mentally, I'm healing well. I won't know if physically all is going well until my damn blood test comes back tomorrow, but I feel ok other than that helpless feeling.

I had read just yesterday that taking one baby aspirin a day can help your uterus become more baby-friendly, so I popped one just a bit ago, and plan on taking one now through when I'm 36 weeks pregnant. I'm getting on the treadmill tomorrow just as soon as I get the nurse's ok, and then it's back to healthy eating and that positive pregnancy test. I'm not waiting. Studies show that it makes no difference if you wait or not after a miscarriage, so why wait? The best thing I can do for myself now is take control of my life again, so that's what I'm doing.

Pity Party is now over.

Random Thoughts of a Tired Mind

The last few days have been a whirlwind of emotion, trying to get back on track, and vascillating between a pity party and feeling optimistic. It's exhausting. My mind seems to be wandering to random things at weird moments, and I had to laugh while running errands today because I was listening to my Ipod, and with the flashes going on in my head, it was like I had my own music video going on in there.

I had to go this morning to get my blood drawn to make sure my hcg levels are decreasing, as they should be now. The nurse was sympathetic and a wonderful needle-sticker (thank you, dear nurse). I laughingly told her that she could draw my blood any day after my ER experience with Dr. Harsh Hands and Nurse Jabs-a-lot. Seriously, ER doctors should NOT be allowed to do any sort of gynelogical exams AT ALL. Good God, I wasn't in pain until that damn ER doctor got a hold of me. And if you work in the ER and commonly have to put IVs in people, shouldn't you actually be good at it??? Anyway, I'll have the hcg level reading back tomorrow, and we'll know if it's all going in the right (or is that the wrong?) direction.

The weird thing is the purging. Not throwing up, mind you, although that might do me some good after the TWO meals of french toast waffles with chocolate syrup pity party I threw myself on Tuesday, but the opposite of nesting. I cannot stop. I am a crazed zombie in the "must clean NOW" department. And that is so not me. I have a method to my madness that my husband does not understand, but I can find a single paper in a pile of 500 papers, can find one lone sock in a giant pile of clothes- but I have no organization skills that really count. But, all of this week, I have thrown out, organized, cleaned, scrubbed, vacuumed, polished, and basically purged my soul of how dirty and wrong the house feels. Weird, isn't it? I'm sure there is some deep psychological explanation for it, but the simple explanation is that it's all helping to heal a wound and making me feel like I'm in control of something.

The fact of the matter is that I'm terrified now that if we try again, the joy, the wonder, and the excitement of being pregnant will be gone. That this will overshadow everything. I'm not used to being scared of life. I don't quite know how to handle this part of it, so I'm purging. Emotionally, I've grieved and am getting back on track and looking forward to the future. Physically, I'm done with the cramping and the bleeding is now down to a minimum. But, in reality, I'm still a bit unsure of things. I know it takes time. And I know all the flashbacks and random memories are helping piece "me" back together.

But it still sucks.

An Explanation

Evan was playing on the computer just now, and clicked on a link to my pregnancy tracker. He said "Yook! Yook! Mommy, dis is what the baby looks like right now". So I went over to him and looked at the illustration he was looking at, and said, "Evan, would it be ok with you if the baby came a little later than we thought? Like maybe after Christmas?" and he said, "But Mommy, I want to have a Halloween baby!"

I had to think about what to say next, since I hadn't exactly planned this conversation. I said, "well, a Halloween baby would mean you would have to go slow trick or treating because Mommy and a baby couldn't push a stroller as fast as you run." So, he thought about it, and said, "Otay, Mommy. We can have our baby later." I gave him a hug and told him that we wouldn't look at baby pictures for a while since the baby wouldn't be growing in Mommy's tummy right now. We'll work from there. It's the best I could do on short notice, but he definitely isn't worried about it.

Love Is

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4

Amen, kid. Ain't that the truth.

5 weeks 2 days

That's as far as we got. I began to miscarry last night. I spent the majority of the night in the ER, which only confirmed what I already knew- that this pregnancy wasn't going well.

I knew almost from the beginning that something wasn't right. I prefaced baby conversations with "if nothing goes wrong". I haven't bought any baby clothes or maternity pants. I only marked my calendar to 12 weeks, thinking that if something went wrong, I'd have a lot of white out to use. I just knew. I wasn't like that with my son- I was the opposite. With him, I knew all was right.

I'm sad, but I'm ok. We'll try again. I just hope the next one doesn't take 18 months. And I need to figure out a way to tell Evan that doesn't scare him. Any suggestions are welcome.

Overwhelmed

Ever get so overwhelmed with your list of stuff to do, you do nothing?

Yeah, I'm right there. Staring at this crazy-ass list of things to do that I don't know where to start. So I don't. Which, of course, makes me panic. Which then makes me look at this list again, which repeats the cycle, taking me nowhere- fast.

Seriously, when you have 10,000 things to do, how do you start? Because right now, I just want to take a nap, and hope when I wake up, at least one thing on my list is crossed off.

The T-Shirt Battle

I WILL NOT WEAR THIS SHIRT! TAKE IT OFF!

FINE! I DO NOT YIKE DIS SHIRT, YOU POOPOO!

A Fruit Roll-up? Otay, mommy, oh sure. Cheese!So, we pulled it off. It took bribery that consisted of one Fruit Roll-up (High Fructose Corn Syrup is not normally a snack in this house!) and one Brand New Power Ranger. It was worth it. He wore the shirt for the whole night after that. It will hopefully be easier to get him to wear it next time. Grandma noticed the shirt right away. Now to tell the rest of the family!

Ok, Maybe It's Real Now...

I had this grand plan of using our 3 1/2 year old to tell Daddy he was going to be a big brother. For those of you who do not yet have a 3 1/2 year old, let me tell you how my scheming went:

"Evan, let's put your "Big Brother" shirt on so we can surprise Daddy when he gets home!"
"NO! I WANNA BE A YIDDOW BRUDDER! NOT A BIG BRUDDER!"

"Evan, when you're done with your bath, let's put your Big Brother shirt on for jammies, and then you can take one of your new Big Brother books downstairs for Daddy to read to you for a bedtime story!"
"NO! DAT IS NOT A JAMMIES. DAT'S CLOTHES! NOT JAMMIES. I WANT MY JAMMIES SHIRT NOW!"

Instead, I peed on that lovely digital home pregnancy test after Evan went to bed, and since Hubby had been talking about tax deductions before I had taken Evan upstairs, I presented the pee stick like this:

"Well, I don't think we can get a deduction on this year's taxes, but this should help with next year's taxes" and I showed him the pee stick. He then looked at me and said, "You're kidding, right?". And being the smart ass that I am, I looked at him deadpan and said, "Yes, I'm kidding." He then got excited and did the whole supportive husband thing. The hilarious thing is about 30 minutes later, he said, "You know, the tax thing is great- the kid will only be here for 2 months and we'll get to deduct him for the whole year!" Ah, ever the mathematician.

So then comes the fun part- when do we tell people. It was decided right away we would wait the obligatory 12 weeks, but then Hubby wanted to tell his brother. Well, if he tells his brother, I have to tell my Mom. And if I tell my Mom, I have to tell my Dad. And my brother. And my aunt. And, oh, crap. Why wait? I'm so nervous, going through the whole "what if something happens" routine, but then I think about how these people will know if something goes wrong anyway, so what's the point in waiting?

The plan is to tell my Mom and her husband when they come over tomorrow for a concert we're all going to. And, of course, the plan involves that damn Big Brother shirt and the cooperation of a 3 1/2 year old. BUT! I have bribes! Not one, but TWO Power Ranger toys that this kid has been coveting since he discovered the karate-kicking fiends in his cousin's toybox. One is to bribe him to put the shirt on if he will not. The other is to get him to tell Grandma that he is going to be a Big Brother. I am SO not above bribing in this situation. So, we'll see how it goes.

On a side note, is it just my imagination, or are my pants too tight already? I'm writing this with the top button undone. I'm so screwed. I'm gonna be a walking dinosaur.

A Look Under The Hood

In an effort to figure out why we have been having difficulty conceiving, I made an appointment with my obgyn. I was run through the typical gamut of tests for an annual exam. But other than talking about basic fertility treatments, I got a "keep trying", an "everything looks good" and a pat on the knee. That didn't go over well with me, but I left with new prenatal vitamin that is the size of my thumb and tastes like vanilla, and a homework assignment to have as much sex as we could stand around ovulation time.

I was somewhat frustrated because I wanted answers. Now. I mean, isn't that what we look to professionals for? The reasons why?

And, there has been a running theme in my life lately- other people having babies or getting pregnant. Again, I am happy for them. It just makes me wonder- am I noticing this more now because we're trying, or are we trying more because other people are succeeding? I don't know, but until we started trying, NO ONE we knew was getting pregnant! I've gone over and over the people we know, and I'm not exaggerating.

Last week, we found out that my husband's best friend and wife are having twins. At 43. Without any help from the medical world. Now, granted, I don't want twins, but COME ON.

What's even more frustrating is we needed to take the last month and this month "off" from trying because of my husband's travel schedule at the end of every September. He goes to Hong Kong every year for 2 weeks at the end of each September. There was no way I wanted him in Hong Kong while I was here at 8 or 9 months pregnant! No Way! So no ovulation predictors, no charting, no nothing. We had to avoid sex around that window of opportunity. And it makes me sad and frustrated because still, that is 2 months lost.

Or so I thought.




How many lines do you see in these two tests?

Ain't mother nature freakin' hilarious? I will be NINE months pregnant when my husband is halfway around the world. But I don't care. And in case you are having trouble believing it yourself, pictures speak louder than words...


Shhhhh... it's still a secret, at least for another 8 weeks. It's going to take me that long to believe it myself!