Monday, August 28, 2017

My Happy Place

This is my morning coffee view today. It doesn't suck, huh. I'm in my happy place. I felt out of sorts all Summer long. Adjusting to a newborn, life with two, the fun that is the postpartum body... those things I can do. But this was missing. I didn't feel complete. This wasn't my summer. We normally go down to the Island the beginning of July, but with the arrival of our sweet angel baby, we needed to make some adjustments. It's weird being here in August. The weather is different. Gorgeous, but not quite beach weather. I think I need to come down a week in July and another in August. Maybe some weekends in May and September. 

Every year I find myself craving this place more. It's a little funny because it has only become harder to get here.mWe have to pack more things, work around more schedules, pay more money. The harder it is the more I want it. This place is my home. 

It's Addy's first trip here, obviously, but I honestly feel like this is John's first trip here. He's old enough that I really thinks he gets it. He was pumped to come, waking up at 4 AM on Saturday asking if it was time to go on "vacation" yet. He wanted to see the boat and the "lotion birds" (ocean birds- he's already starting to say the word right and it makes me sad). It took him a little to get used to being somewhere else and to realize that we weren't going home, but he loves it here. The beach, e constant outside time, having Mom AND Dad home 24/7, plus my mother is here. My father and brother will be here later. 24/7 with the John fan club is pretty much his tiny life's dream. 

My sweet Addy girl though, she is HOME. We keep catching her just looking around smiling. She smiles with every single inch of her face. This huge, all encompassing smile. She caught her first experience of the ocean breeze and she loved it. She has no idea he deep her roots run here. That her namesake is written on the house. That she is a 4th generation Gilmour girl and the island blood runs in her veins. I've been excited to show my kids the island life that I grew up with, to revisit my childhood with all of the special places that we visited, but there's something different with her. I'm not sure what it is. 

Funny enough, I never saw myself with her. When I envisioned my life, there was the possibility of a girl, but I more felt suited for boys. I felt it in my bones. I'm not sure of my hesitancy for a girl. Maybe I remember how hard it to grow up being a girl. Or how hard I imagine it to be raising a girl. The deck is already stacked against her. We can talk about equality and girl power all we want, but this is a man's world and we're just living in it. But, now that she's here, I can't imagine my life without her.

It's funny to think of being here last year and the fact that she didn't even exist yet. We were trying, but it was new and we hadn't started to face our heartbreak yet. We were still terrified of the unknown, but hoping it was all a fluke before and we were worried for nothing. We had no idea. And now here she is.

I read a story written by a woman once, who had two miscarriages. She had a girl, two miscarriages, and then her little boy. Her son at some point found out about them and as his brain started to process it, he started noticing families with four children. He kept pointing them out to his mothered saying that could have been their family. The mother tried to find a way to tell him that if she didn't have the miscarriages, that he wouldn't be here. That there never would have been four children, there would only ever have been two. Still grieving over the loss of her two babies, the other found it even harder to imagine her life without him. Her son. She knew he had been meant for their family all along. She imagined that those two babies were him, he just fought hard to come back until he could stay. 

I read that shortly after John was born. When Alex and a I were still trying to process everything. We knew he was a fighter and it gave us peace to know that. Like he had some sort of super powers. When we lost the two babies before Addalyn, I just knew this baby had to be something special. When I found out she was a girl, it took some time to process, but when I thought about her fighting to come back three months in a row I relaxed a little. This girl was going to be a force to be reckoned with. 

As a mother, you always worry about your babies, forever. Not to say that Dads don't, just that they are a part of you and then all of a sudden you have to get used to them being on the outside and trusting other other with them. My mom describes it as your heart walking around outside your body. Now you have to worry about the outside world and what is going to happen to them. I know my kids are fighters though. Strong willed. Stubborn. Smart as hell. They'll be ok. This world won't break them. I just know they will be something great. That they will be a little bit of light in this dark world. 

And so, while I sit here, admiring my view. In my happy place. Listening to John run around crazy and Addy asleep in her swing. I want to remember this moment. When they were so little and I can still ponder the absurdity that I ever existed without them, these tiny pieces of my soul. When we get back to crazy life, where I have to worry about schedules and chores, all of those responsibilities that get in the way of me spending this time with my children, I want to remember this. These moments. My happy place, with my tiny sweet hearts running around. Safe in my happy place bubble. 

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Welcome, Our Sweet Addalyn

Oh's been awhile since I posted. I don't even think that anyone reads this anymore. BUT, I wanted to get this one down before I forgot any of it. Although, I'm not sure that I could forget any of it. Not for a second.

Last time we "talked", I was pregnant. I had a pre-conception appointment booked with my new doctor, but of course I showed up pregnant. She was amazing. Completely sympathetic to my situation, but honest and determined to figure out what was going on. She sent me in for blood work so that I could monitor my hcg levels and booked me for early ultrasounds. Amazing.

Things were looking good with my levels. The initial one wasn't huge, so I was antsy to see what the follow-up level was. Unfortunately, since I got it done on a Friday, they weren't releasing the results until the following Monday. Which was unacceptable. That Saturday, we took our sweet boy Felix to the vet because he wasn't acting normal. He seemed to be very slugglish, he'd been in a lot of pain, and he was barely able to walk. The vet told us what we had feared every single time that we had taken him in. That it was time to let him go. I couldn't believe it. Every time I prepared myself for this, and every time he was put on medication and he bounced back. She said that she thought that something had finally burst and that he was bleeding internally. I asked if she thought that he could go on his own and she said he could, but she didn't know how long it would take and that it would likely be painful.

We were heartbroken. (This is a whole long story of it's own that I'm not quite ready to talk about. Plus, he deserves an entire post of his own, so I'm going to stick to what I was originally posting about)

Needless to say, it continued our shit luck. So when they told me I had to wait until Monday, I freaked out. I needed something. Anything. Finally, after 12,000 phone calls, someone read me my results as long as I promised to not look into it too much until I talked to my doctor.

My levels doubled, so I waited for follow-up instructions. The nurse called me on Monday and told me that everything looked good, that they wanted me to come back in for more blood work. They set up an ultrasound date as well based on when they thought the levels would be high enough.

Unfortunately, as it turns out that the doctors at that particular office did NOT deliver at the hospital I thought they did. They delivered at another one that I was NOT interested in. So I had to switch, again. Luckily, I found a midwife that I loved and she was amazing.

Long story short, everything progressed beautifully. Soon enough our sweet little cherub was taking over my body and making me sick as a dog. To be honest, it took awhile to be completely connected for fear that this one would be taken away as well. It honestly took until after the gender reveal for me to really breathe a little. I think once I found out who she was, it really made it more real. That's right. SHE. We were having a baby girl. Of course, everyone else in the world (including John) guessed that, but me.

Soon enough it was July and I was huge. I thought she might come early, but alas she did not. My due date came and went. I had contractions on and off, nothing major. Then Sunday, two days after my due date I was feeling a lot of "something", but it didn't go anywhere and my family came over for dinner as usual. I grumbled about still being pregnant and talked about how I probably would be forever.

However, our girl had other plans. Monday morning, I woke up at about 12:30 because I had to pee. I had only been asleep for a couple hours, so it was surprising that I already had to pee, but I was as big as a house, so I guess it was normal. I felt a little strange, but otherwise fine so I got back into bed and just like with John a contraction hit. And then about 10 minutes later another one. I went downstairs, opened the contraction app, and started timing them. They were kind of all over the place in time between and duration, but they were real. Knowing how quick John was (well... quick for a first birth) and how my midwife said it would be quicker, I waited the hour, called the hospital and the midwife on call agreed that I should come in.

I called my mom. Went upstairs, straightened my hair, told Alex to get ready, and started packing John for school. He wasn't supposed to go on Monday, so I had nothing ready. Naturally. I was doing OK during the contractions, but they quickly became unmanageable. I was anxious to get to the hospital because I wanted my epidural, STAT. My mom came, we packed the car, and got on the road. It was now about 2ish in the morning.

We drove the hellish 15 minutes to the hospital (much better than the 40ish that we had to do with John) and I was NOT doing well. Alex dropped me off at the emergency room entrance and parked the car. At the suggestion of a nice lady who said she worked at the hospital, I went in and started to check in. It was empty, which was nice because I was struggling, and I got through the process in time for Alex to come in. We sat for about 5 of the longest minutes ever, waiting for someone to come get us. Finally the woman came and she had a wheelchair. She said it was optional, but I took it.

They brought me down to my delivery room. I was a little surprised because with John, they had me in a triage room first to see if they should admit me, but this was different. I'm not sure if it was standard procedure, or if it was because I was a mess. They struggled through my IVs (just like with John) and started getting me admitted. It was around 3:30 maybe?

I asked for my epidural stat, they took some blood (I think?), the midwife came in to check me, said I was at a 5, I asked for my epidural. I struggled and moaned through my contractions, asked for my epidural, again. They told me that they had to wait for my test results first. I was having a really hard time though, so I asked for them to hurry. They said they were trying to get him to come down anyway because I was struggling. I told Alex that these were worse than I ever felt with John. His labor started hot and heavy, contractions 1-3 minutes apart from the get-go. Which is how this was, but I was at least able to breathe through those. They were terrible, but manageable. With these, I was writhing in pain, I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I moaned, I couldn't sit still. It was bad.

I asked about the epidural again and I felt like a wimp. I tried to get over myself and my feelings of inadequacy and just try to advocate for myself. I didn't want to keep my mouth shut just because I was worried about what other people thought of me, I couldn't handle this any longer and I needed relief.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Though they promised me that "John" was on his way with the good drugs (which I thought was a sign), all of a sudden shit it the fan. A HUGE contraction hit and I screamed that an Amazonian woman. Alex jumped out of his chair, everyone came running in my room, and I couldn't talk to tell anyone what was going on. I just screamed. I felt something strange, that I didn't really know what was going on, but it turns out it was my water breaking. Alex kept asking what was wrong and I kept screaming.

The midwife rushed in and checked me. My heart sank a little when I heard her say, "OK, she's a 10". She very sweetly, but very urgently told me, "Kayleigh, honey, I know this wasn't part of your plan, but she's coming now". (Please remember that less than an hour before I was a 5, and that I had only been in labor for a little over 3 1/2 hours).

I sat there for a second, trying to think of any other options that I could think of. Any type of pain medication that they could give me. How much it would hurt. Wondering whether or not I could do this. And then she told me to push.

I pushed twice, and she told me to stop, the cord was around her neck. Then she told me to keep going. It was like riding a bike, only this time I could FEEL that I needed to push. With John, it was an instinct, but I didn't really have anything to go off of, I just did it. With the third push, she was out. And I just remember thinking she was so tiny and she had so much hair. She was beautiful. At 4:12 AM, our sweet Addalyn was finally here.

She wasn't as tiny as she seemed, though she was tinier than John. At 8 lbs 1 oz, she was over a full pound lighter than his 9 lb 3 oz self. They were both 20 inches though. And her body seems just so much tinier than his. He was/is SOLID, and she's a peanut. Our Peanut.

We are slowly adjusting to life as a family of four. We are all madly in love with her, but it's been a lot. We wouldn't change it for the world though. She's a lot different than John, which I always thought she would be. She was crazy when I was pregnant and of course her entrance didn't surprise us. It had something to the consideration list for Baby # 3 because I'm pretty sure that since she was born in less than 4 hours, our next would be born on the kitchen floor. 

Thursday, January 5, 2017

At least for today...

I wrote this blog post months ago. I just haven't had the heart to share it. But, I think it's finally been long enough to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can't spend all of this time worried about the "what ifs". So, we'll let the cat out of the bag and hope and pray together.

October 25th, 2016

Third times a charm, right?

At least that's what we are hoping.

So here's the thing. I quit my doctor and found a new one. I can't remember if I wrote about that or not. I wasn't happy with the practice, things are still left unresolved with my doctor, test results are still not back yet (over a month later), I'm just all done with it.

So, I set out to find a new one. I looked at all of the hospitals around and saw who was near me and was taking new patients. I also reached out to my primary care doctor and asked her who she would recommend. She is always pretty honest with me, and brutally honest with me (like when she found out I followed my doctor to her new practice she was happy because she didn't like the hospital that the doctors in her practice were delivering at) so I knew she would let me know.

Except, I'm used to no one getting back to me, so I just went about my research. I found a doctor in the next town over (which is the town that Alex works in), at my old practice, and I loved her. I read her bio and she immediately felt like someone I would be comfortable with. They changed hospitals, so that's not an issue either, and the new one is closer to our house (the one I delivered John at is about 45 minutes away. Luckily, he was born on a Saturday, but if it was ever rush hour traffic it would probably take closer to 2 hours to get thank you). I called to explain my situation and make my appointment and I already love everyone there.

The nurse that I talked to was so nice and sympathetic. They found me someone to talk to immediately and gave me suggestions on what I should do appointment wise. They even just called yesterday to say that my appointment was in a week and that they hadn't received my medical records yet. Saying that they just wanted to make sure that they had all of the information they needed from my old doctor. (The other practice didn't even tell me what to do with my file, so I showed up with it and my doctor was annoyed I hadn't submitted it earlier... what did I know... I've had the same doctors since I was 16 and my mom was still making my decisions!!!)

I'm really looking forward to meeting her. I'm still waiting to hear back from our new insurance to see if they cover a pre-conception meeting because they didn't really know what else to book it under. I just wanted to meet with her to talk about my history so that when I became pregnant again she would know me and I would know her and it would be less weird.

Alex and I just decided to take this month at least and take a step back. I didn't want to go crazy with temping, tracking, etc. We were just going to do our thing. I kept an eye on things just to know what was going on with my body, but since I was gone for most of the time things should have happened I wasn't too worried about it. I was actually pretty OK with giving my body a month or so to relax from the stress of two back to back miscarriages. It seemed like a lot less stress to get a negative pregnancy test than to get a positive one and then lost it again.

Except, as usual, God had other plans.

So, here I am. Pregnant. For the 3rd month in a row. It's REALLY early. Like REALLY early. I'm not 4 weeks until Friday the 28th. I found out last night. I already "knew" though. I'm pretty in tune with my body, so I called it a few days ago. The line is pretty dark for this early though, so I'm considering that a sign. I'm also feeling very calm about it all. I'm trying to decipher if it is calm or numb, but I'm thinking more calm.

I also have to kind of laugh. You know when they say, "You plan, God laughs" or something like that. Well the due date will be the beginning of July, which was the one month I didn't want. We go to Martha's Vineyard every July, so I knew that depending on the due date we might have to skip our trip, which I hate doing. It's hard to go in August because we rent it out, September could work but it wouldn't be much "beach" weather (I know, first world problems". But, here we are. The 4th of July is always SUPER busy for us, so being 11 months pregnant or having a newborn is far from ideal.

BUT...oh my goodness... I don't even care. I just want to be able to take this one home. Boy or girl. Martha's Vineyard trip be damned. Happy, healthy, in my arms. That's all I want.

I'm learning so much of what parts of life that I need to let go of control of. That I need to just go with the flow for my own sanity. I can plan and plan and plan, but I need to learn to be OK with Plan B (or C, or D, or even X). It's a humbling experience knowing that you have absolutely no control over something so important to you. You just need to learn to have faith.

So who knows if we get to keep this one. Or how long we'll have it. But, today I'm pregnant. So, today I'll enjoy it!

Today I'm pregnant. 

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

An Open Letter to Donald Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

       I'd like to start off by saying that I really mulled over how to address this letter. I wanted to just call you Donald, because I don't think you deserve the respect of a formal address, but since I was raised to do the right thing regardless of whether or not someone "deserves" it, I chose Mr. I just felt that needed to be said.

       I've watched your disgraceful campaign from afar for quite some time now. I was not able to bring myself to watch more than a few minutes of the circus that was the Presidential debates, so I'll admit that I am not as informed as I could be. However, in full disclosure, I didn't honestly think that we would ever be here. That I would ever live in a world where Donald Trump is our President. So I sat back and waited for the spectacle to be over, preparing for the days of "remember when Donald Trump thought he was going to be President?". Except here we are.

      I woke up this morning to an email from a friend in Canada asking me if this was a joke. Facebook messages from family in other countries offering their spare bedrooms if I needed a place to stay. This is how the world views us right now. That we are a joke. They feel for us, the deep heartache that we feel that you are now our "Leader". The United States of America is now a joke, and we have you to thank for that. Now, before we get into the thick of things, I would like to be clear. I believe this whole entire election was a disgrace. You and Hilary. The two of you sunk to the lowest of levels. Abandoning any form of grace, professionalism, or tact. It was disgusting to watch. I was embarrassed for the both of you, that you will forever have footage of yourself behaving this way. This not how our country should be run. This is not how our elections should be run. There was too much blood shed for our country for this to be what we have become. People gave their lives for this? I bet they are turning over in their graves, wondering what happened to the values and convictions that they stood for. I know you can't understand that, being a white male who grew up with the silver spoon in his mouth, but let me break it down for you.

     I in no way am trying to say that I have experienced the most hardships in the world. I am not a person of color. I don't come from a religion that has been persecuted. I am not a member of the LGBT community (though I support them through and through). But I am a female. Someone whose "people" have faced adversity as well. There was a time when my "job" would have been to stay home, clean the house, and have children. That's all I would have been good for. However, thanks to this amazing country, I grew up to think that I could be anything. In the 4th grade, while all of my classmates predicted jobs of doctors, firefighters, etc. I proudly stood up in front of all of my classmates and their parents and said that I was going to be the first female President of the United States. THAT is what the good people of our country have fought for, the belief that we can do anything. That men, women, and children of all race, sexual orientation, and religion are equal. THAT is why America is great.

       It seems however, that we took a giant step backwards last night by electing you. Someone who talks down to women and demeans them. Who thinks nothing wrong with sexual assault. Who thinks that they have every right to put their hands on whomever they want whenever they want. As a SURVIVOR of sexual assault, I just want to take a minute and say FUCK YOU. Keep your grubby, dirty hands to yourself and be glad that there are even actual people in this world who would actually want you to touch them. Leave the rest of us alone. You are someone who thinks that the answer to our immigration problems is to build a giant wall to keep people out. Did you forget that this fine country was built from immigrants? That you are lucky enough to be where you are today BECAUSE of them? Someone who thinks that women shouldn't have a choice over what happens to their body and should be PUNISHED for certain things? Don't even get me started on your stellar choice for  VP who thinks the answer to our "LGBT problem" is conversion therapy. I'm actually slightly impressed that you two were able to find each other. They say everyone has a soul mate and it looks like you found yours.

       I've spent a lot of time being angry about this. I want to kick and scream. Throw my hands up. Move to another country. Leave this circus behind. But, that's exactly what is wrong with our country right now. Those that CAN do good are frustrated, they feel defeated, they are giving up. They are giving into the media, the hysteria, and I can't do that. I have a son to raise. An example to show. I have an obligation to this country to keep fighting, to stand tall, to raise a MAN that will help make this world a better place. To teach him that while the world is full of hateful people like you, good will always win. The sun will always rise on a new day.

      So here is my plea. You got this far. You made it. You leveraged people's fear and frustration into a Presidential nomination. I just want you to remember that at the end of the day, we aren't a risky business deal that you can walk away from. You can't declare "bankruptcy" on being the President of the United States of America. This is our life. Your words. Your choices. Your example. That is going to be what shapes the next 4 years (and hell probably many more after that depending on how much good or damage you do). These 4 years will be the most formative years of some people's lives. You owe it to the people that elected you (and even more so to those that didn't) to remember that. We understand that you have your ideas about what this country should be, but so do we. It is your obligation to do what is best for us all as a WHOLE and not just to follow your own agenda. It is your JOB to keep us safe, to make decisions for our well-being. You just became the Father of over 300 million people. It is your obligation to do right by us.

     I don't need you to turn the world upside down. I don't need you to reinvent the wheel. I don't need you to try and make history to feed your own ego. I just need you to not fuck this up. Can you do that? Can you put aside your own agenda for 4 years and just think about someone else for a change? You want to make America great again? Unite us, don't divide us. The inner turmoil that we are all facing has caused us to turn against each other. The hate, the animosity, the friendships ruined, the families divided. It's because of you. So fix it. Make us great again. Do what you said you would do. Just remember that if you fail, we fail. We lose. Just think about it.

      I know you'll never see this. And I doubt that anyone will make it his far through it, but I needed to say it, to clear my own head. To purge my soul of the hate and negativity that I'm feeling. The sadness I feel for our country. So I dare you. Prove me wrong. Make me eat my words. I'll gladly put my foot in my mouth. Just please, for the love of all that is good, don't fuck this up. We are counting on you, whether we want to or not.


A woman who has worked far too hard to let someone like you push her backwards.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016


I've been trying to be a little more honest with myself, and others, about how I'm really doing. I'm not really sure who I am trying to fool more, myself or them, but I have long ago figured out that faking "fine" isn't the same thing as BEING fine.

See? Look at that progress. If only all of my old therapists could see me now. They would be so proud.

Alex and I went out to dinner on Saturday just the two of us to celebrate our anniversary (a month late). After a disastrous attempt to try a new restaurant, we went back to an old reliable. We found ourselves chatting about everything and nothing. Eventually the tequila kicked in and I found myself telling Alex that I wasn't doing well.

He said that he'd noticed. That he was doing his best to do what I needed, but he was never sure what that was. That it always seemed wrong. I told him that it wasn't all in his head. That everything he did annoyed me. I was honest and told him that I wasn't entirely sure that there was an actual reason for the anger, that it could very well be that he was just there, but that his mere presence annoyed me most of the time and I couldn't figure it out.

I told him I was doing my best to exist and that most days, that's all I had in me. Wake up, get ready, get the baby ready, feed baby, pack stuff, drop baby off, work, try not to flip out at work, pick up baby, come home, make dinner, feed baby, feed large man, feed dog, put baby to bed, clean up, pack lunches, exist, go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

That's kind of all I got in me. Everything else is work. Effort. I don't feel like a great Mom. I feel like I'm "phoning" it in a lot. Then I feel like I have to overcompensate. Then I feel even more fake because I'm doing things purely to make myself not feel like a shitty Mom. It's been fun.

I've been hard on Alex. He can't do much right. He's not helpful enough, he's not around me enough, he doesn't want to talk enough, he's in my way, he's talking when I just want to sit quietly. There's literally nothing he can do right.

I told him I would try to take it easy on him, He promised not to do the imaginary things that make me mad.

What a good husband.

Sometimes I think I'm OK. I seem rather rational. Not random outbursts. No excessive drinking. Work is stressful, so I attribute a lot of my moods to that. And while it doesn't help, at all, I know that a lot of what is bothering me isn't work. Or maybe it is. Who knows anymore. But, a large portion of my life is a shit show and I'm just trying to tread water.

But Sunday night things started to take a bit of a turn. I haven't been sleeping well, but that's pretty normal for the amount of stuff that I have in my head. There's a lot going on at work so I feel like I'm always remembering something at a random time and it gets my head spinning. So I've been going to bed later and later. I've been waking up a lot too, which hasn't helped.

But Sunday, I was on the verge of a panic attack. I was sitting on the couch and Alex and John were playing at the end of it. All of a sudden they were too loud. They were too close. They were doing too much. There was too much stuff everywhere. The dog was standing right next to me so I could get off the couch. My sweatshirt felt like it shrunk 2 sizes and I couldn't breathe. I went upstairs, took my sweatshirt off, and took some deep breathes. Thankfully I was able to calm down. It started to rear its ugly head a little while later, but I squashed it and was able to calm down again.

It's been a long time since I've had a panic attack. I'm not sure if I'm had a full blown one since before I met Alex. It's been that long.

But things are just piling up. Saturday I took Felix to get his nails clipped. While I was there they gave me his new medicine, insisted he needed his rabies and heart worm in order to get his nails cuts, and charged me $250 for the whole shebang. The money is rough, but he's my guy so I do it. He has trouble getting in the car and wasn't even remotely interested in trying when we were leaving. Normally when I attempt to pick him up he flips and then tries to get in himself. He has never liked to be picked up. So I called his bluff. But this time he let me pick him up. No fight. Nothing. He's so skinny now. He's finally eating regularly, but he's just so skinny. He's 15, so I'm not naive to what's going on. But it's been a rough year.

When I got home Alex asked how it went, to which I told him what happened with the car. I then added, with a little dramatic flair, "I already lost my Nanny and two babies this year, so why wouldn't I be losing my dog too", burst into tears, picked a fight with him for not sounding sincere enough, and went inside.

So, you see, I'm doing awesome. Really, quite well.

I try to remind myself that the real crazy people probably don't know that they are crazy, so I can't be ALL that bad yet, right?

It's just a lot. I feel like every time I try to get my head above water something else happens. I feel like I've been treading water for almost a year and I'm exhausted. I just want to stop struggling. With work, with money, with my family, my friends, everything. I'm just so tired.

I just wish this year was over with. Start fresh. Start new. Maybe have a year that isn't full of disaster and heartache. I think we are due for that.

I find myself not talking about us having another baby. Like, talking about it out loud will jinx us. We used to talk about what things would be like with two. Or when things were crazy we would say, "are you sure you want another one". But now we don't. And I cringe when people talk or ask about us having another one. We just don't know. I think we are trying to guard ourselves against the worst. Sometimes I feel even sadder about that. That it broke us. We were so optimistic, both times, well... trying to be. It never felt right. But we wished and hoped and prayed.

We just feel broken now.

I'm not sure how to fix it. 

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Here we are Again...

I wasn't really sure if I was going to post about this. Mainly because I'm not sure how I feel about it. There's a part of me that feels stupid. There's a part of me that feels reckless. There's a part of me that feels broken. There's a lot going on in this 'ole brain of mine.

But, I've gone through the story this far, so let's continue shall we...

Last we "chatted" I was coming off a baby shower that was a lot more difficult for me to attend than I anticipated, but through the help of a mimosa and 3 Coors Lights, I made it through.

I was still waiting to get the month over with and kicking myself a little for thinking that everything would happen so quickly and we would all just be moving right along into expecting another baby.

I couldn't get it out of my head that I thought I was pregnant and had convinced myself that I was just another one of those crazy people who had spent so much time wishing and hoping and praying that they had convinced themselves that they were pregnant.

Imagine me, 9 months pregnant, going into labor, only to find out that I had made the entire thing up in my head.

Now, let's stop for a minute here and set some things straight. I don't actually think that anyone is crazy. I think that this process is gut-wrenching and sometimes all you have to hold onto is hope. That you need to let your heart have those few days where you think it's possible because they are way better than the days that you know it isn't.


I bought myself more tests, because the 20,000 that I had already taken (and squinted at, swearing I saw something) weren't good enough. I had taken a couple days off from peeing in a cup and just decided that every few days I would test until it was obvious that I wasn't, just to make my head feel better. (You'll notice that I don't talk about "female" things. Ew. Just read into the references and we'll pretend that I'm not actually talking about this.)

I came home Tuesday afternoon, took a test to ease my mind as I poured myself a large glass of wine. Except, imagine my surprise when I saw two lines. Yeah. Two lines.

I called to Alex and freaked out. I texted Nicole. I texted Kelli. I texted Lindsay. I needed my people. I then stopped texting people, because it had been 12 seconds and it was becoming excessive.

Alex and I told ourselves this would be it. We would be OK. That we were so lucky to get this chance again. That we would bring this baby home.

I called the doctor the next morning and went in immediately for blood work (they promised to keep a close eye on me). I sat nervous all day. I got the blood test results back from Friday, which made my heart race when I got the "result" email, only to find out it wasn't what I was looking for. At least the didn't find anything, so that was good.

I never did get the email, but I finally found the result. My hcg was a 4.

They don't even consider that pregnant.

I called to talk to the doctor, but why would she ever be available? I spoke to the nurse, explained my situation. Neither of us could figure out how I could have a positive home pregnancy test with only a 4, and she told me to come back on Friday. They'd figure this out.

So I sit. I wait.

I take 12,000 more tests. They get lighter. They turn negative.

I was pretty hopeless about it. I got an email from my doctor that my pregnancy test was negative. I explained to her what I talked to the nurses about and what the plan was. Not that I would hear back from her. God forbid she actually calls me and has an actual conversation with me, knowing everything that's been going on. Nope. Please tell me twice in an email that I'm not pregnant.

Friday morning I wake up and decided to take one more test and then head in for blood work. Just to see what's going on. But, I don't need to and my heart sinks.

So, I called out of work and just did my thing. I needed some time.

I'm assuming it was a chemical pregnancy, since it happened so quick. I'm also assuming that this is some sort of sick joke that is being played on us because I can't honestly think that we are here, again, one more later dealing with this bullshit. Because that's what this is. Bullshit.

I'm a little less emotional this time around, but when I am it comes out of nowhere. Just driving. Or sitting on the couch. Or doing something normal. And it hits me.

I feel sick. Or tired. Or weird. And wonder if it's the baby. Then I remind myself that I'm not pregnant. So it's obviously not. Those are usually the times that I get upset. The fact that I have to remind myself that I'm not pregnant. That I'm not 10 weeks along. Or 5 weeks along. That there is no baby growing because I lost both of them.

Those are the parts that get me.

I think I'm definitely switching doctors. The ride out to her has been terrible and I feel like I deserve a little extra TLC right now and she's made me jump through hoops to talk to her and made me feel like shit when I actually do. Not really someone I'm comfortable with anymore. Not really sure what the plan is for that going forward but I have some time.

Alex and I have decided to take some time off from things. I think I need to let my body and my heart heal a little bit. I don't think that I can do this again. Alex is already talking about how this will be our last baby, if we ever get one, and that breaks my heart too. I always saw us with three. I always imagined it being MY choice how many children I had and not out of fear of not being able to have more.

I can't help but feel a little broken. A little deceived by my body. Wondering why it doesn't work right. Wondering why this keeps happening.

Our pregnancy ratio is plummeting quickly. It went from 1 out of 2. To 1 out of 3. And now 1 out of 4. Which, are not very good odds.

I don't really know what happens next. Or where we go from here. Or what any of this means. I just know what it sucks and no one gets it. Or maybe there's just nothing to get. No one can seem to say anything right, but I think that problem lies more with me. It's not OK. I can't relax. I can't hear that we'll have a baby soon. Or this will all be just a bad memory. I don't want to hear any of it. And I don't want to hear that I "shouldn't think like that" when I tell people that I don't know if this means that John is it for us. I can think about this however I want.

I need to protect my head and my heart from all of this. I need to steal myself for the possibility that John may be the only child that we ever have. I need to start to open myself up to that possibility. Because it IS a possibility. And I just can't hold onto rainbows and unicorns. I can't just think that this is just a blip on the radar. This is huge. This is something that defines me. This is a big part of my life and my story. And people thinking that I can just "move on" from it makes me feel like they are diminishing the amount that this affects me.

But like I said. I don't think anything anyone said to me right now would be right. I think it's just one of those things.

So, here we are. Again. Again.

I'm hoping to one day no longer be writing this posts. I'm hoping that some day my life becomes boring again, so the need to write dwindles. Or maybe I start writing about how blessed we are.

But, until then. Here I am. Again. Again. 

Monday, September 26, 2016


While I'd like to say that I'm handling this all pretty well, for the most part, I definitely have my moments.

It doesn't help that work is a complete nightmare right now. Or maybe it does. While it gives me something else to perseverate on, it piles on the stress. So, I guess it's a bit of a double-edged sword.

I had a baby shower to attend this weekend. This is nothing new. My friends are a wildly gestating bunch and a month doesn't go by that I'm not celebrating the arrival of another little cherub. Some of them, recently, have been a bit emotional as I realized that I was ready to add another to our family. But, not emotional in a bad way. Just in a, "I can't wait to do this all over again" kind of way.

I made it through the shopping no problem. John threw an epic tantrum in the store because we wouldn't let him play with a mobile forever and then Grammy was looking at him wrong. So I shipped him out to the car with Grammy to give him all the dirty looks she wanted (I kid, he was obviously just being a nut job) and rushed through buying everything. Between that and not being able to easily find anything on the registry, I was fairly distracted.

I was also convinced that last month was a fluke and we would find ourselves pregnant immediately and this would all be a distant nightmare.

Imagine my surprise when I find myself here, the weekend of the baby shower, coming off a terrible doctor's visit, not pregnant, and now having to spend my day celebrating someone else having a baby.

I'll be honest. I almost didn't go. I didn't know if I had it in me. I just wanted to sit at home and feel sorry for myself.

I tried to remind myself that the girl whose shower I was going to has had her struggles too. She didn't know when/if she would be able to get pregnant due to her health issues and it was a long road to get here. Not that she needed to struggle to deserve happiness, but I know where she has been and I know what it feels like to finally get to your baby shower that you wondered if you would ever have.

So I went.

And it was hard.

I think it surprised me how hard it was. Usually, I can prepare myself. But this kind of came out of nowhere and left me in tears quite a few times before I got there.

Thankfully, once I got there, there was enough to keep me pre-occupied. And there was booze. Booze always helps.

After that though, I was exhausted and unfortunately had to cancel on Family Dinner. I felt bad, but I'm trying to recognize my limits. I just needed to be home. Alex, John, and I had a nice dinner just the three of us, did bath time, and bed time and then Alex and I watched some TV and went to bed early. It was a nice, quiet.

 I needed quiet.