Even now, after having a healthy baby and not wanting another one right now, I have trouble feeling genuinely happy for someone else when I find out that they are pregnant.  What the heck is wrong with me?

Friday evening as my husband and I were prepping dinner, he told me that he had some news.  Being the person that I am, I just knew it had to do with someone being pregnant.  So I guessed to him that someone was pregnant and he nodded.  Then I started naming possible pregnant people.  I think it was my 3rd guess that was correct.  I'm pretty good at that game.

"Isn't that exciting news?" he said.

I should mention that they already have an almost 3 year old.

"Oh yeah.  Exciting" I said, trying to actually sound remotely excited.  "When is she due?"

"Oh it is still really early and definitely not public because she is only 9 weeks so don't mention it to anyone" he said.

"I guess she's never had any trouble" I said sarcastically and walked out of the kitchen, leaving my husband alone with his "exciting" news.

My reaction to the news kind of surprised myself.  I haven't heard about anyone getting pregnant lately so I haven't had to react.  Most of my friends are done having kids or are getting ready to give birth at any time.  There are a few people who are waiting in the wings (namely my Sister and SIL), but I am not even sure that either of them are actively trying at this point.  

Why is it that I can't be happy for someone when I find out that they are pregnant?  I am immediately filled with jealousy, anger, and resentment.  Shouldn't I be over these feelings at this point?  I have my baby.  he is healthy.  I love him.  I am finally starting to feel more relaxed and happy with things in my life so why is this one area still sore?

I am wondering if I am forever going to feel this way.  Will I never feel happy when someone announces that they are pregnant unless I know the full back story?  If this was their first try or an oops, will I forever be jealous of them even though it is not their fault?  I obviously wouldn't wish the things that happened to me to happen to anyone else so I am not sure why I feel this way.  It is as if my experience with miscarriage took away the joy and happiness surrounding the miracle of pregnancy/childbirth.

Example:  A friend of a friend had a miscarriage right around the beginning of her 2nd trimester.  She then had a lot of trouble getting pregnant again.  When she finally fell pregnant last year I was genuinely happy for her.  She went through so much to have her baby so I had no feelings of resentment towards her and I got teary when I heard that she gave birth to a healthy child.

Has anyone else who has experienced loss/infertility, but have gone on to have a healthy child (or children), felt or currently feel like I do?  If you have felt like this and no longer do, what helped you?  I really want to put all of the past in the past and move forward.  I want to congratulate someone when I hear that they are pregnant...and actually mean it.

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Not sure if it is the short days, the frigid temps, the snow upon ice upon snow, the cabin fever, or the imminently possible return of AF, but this girl has a serious case of the winter blues and blahs.  It all came to a head this past weekend when I completely lost my cool over a bag of frozen peaches.  Yes.  Frozen.  Peaches.

Before you shake your head at me in disgust, let me just explain that the small bag of (organic) frozen peaches cost $2.99 and was for B's breakfast.  We have been having a terrible time getting him used to eating anything besides purees so my plan was to microwave the peaches, cut them into small bites, and have him eat them while I ate my own (non-organic) peaches.  I took the bag out of the freezer, tore off one corner, and then dumped a few slices into a bowl.  It was then when I realized that the bag had a huge tear on the other side and the quality of the product had definitely been compromised.  My blood pressure started rising and I could feel the building pressure of stress in my temples.  This wasn't going to be one of my proudest moments.

In a fury I ran into the living room and explained the situation to my husband, making sure to throw in a few choice curse words to describe Whole Foods, in the process.  My poor baby just kind of stared at me while I let my top blow.

"What the f*ck!?" I exclaimed.  "Can you believe that this expensive bag of peaches had a hole in it?  Should I throw it away or return it?"  I knew full well that neither response from him was going to be acceptable.  My poor husband was set up for failure from the beginning on this one.

"You should probably return it," he said calmly.

"They aren't going to let me return the bag when it is open on both sides!  When am I going to find the time to return it anyway?   Oh and where the hell is my freaking receipt?"  I was now almost in tears over these stupid peaches.  I threw my arms in the air and told him I was just going throw them away.  He told me to relax, which only fueled my angry frozen peach driven rage, and I made my way back into the kitchen and promptly threw the whole bag at the wall and the frozen peaches scattered about the sink, the counter, and the floor.

I collapsed onto the floor and started crying.  Big, angry, tears fell from my face.  "I need to go on a vacation," I cried.  "I need to get out of this house and away from everything for a week.  I really need a break."

"You don't need a vacation," my husband replied.

"Yes, yes, I do," I continued to sob as I started cleaning up pieces of peaches.  So what really sparked this major meltdown?  Was it really the peaches?  No.  It was the co-worker who I have talked about in many a previous post.  The one asked me if I was pregnant when I had just miscarried.  The one who got pregnant on the first try after smoking and drinking heavily her whole adult life.  The one didn't tell me that she was pregnant until she was over half-way through with her pregnancy even though I confided in her about my struggles.  The one who works for fun because her husband makes triple my husband's salary.  The one who goes on 4-5 tropical/European vacations a year.  The one with the (seemingly) perfect life.  Yes, that's her.  She caused my meltdown and she doesn't even know it.

Last week, she posted to our work vacation calendar that she is going to Turks and Caicos, the place that we were supposed to go but had to cancel due to an impending miscarriage.  She mentioned to me in passing that they will be staying at the Seven Stars Resort, the place where we were supposed to stay (but lost over $4000 because my 3rd baby was going to die).  She posted on FB about how she was so excited for her vacation and was busy getting her perfect baby (who sleeps 11 hours straight a night, by the way) a passport.  I heard her explaining to another co-worker about how they were paying for her MIL to come and watch the baby while they went and had fun.  Thinking of all of the beautiful pictures that she would soon paste on her FB wall was just to much for me to handle.  Thinking of my family and me.  Stuck at home.  Trapped in the house by the snow and snowstorm after snowstorm.  Doing the same stuff over and over again with no fun vacation or even a break in sight.

I promptly did what I should have done many months ago...

I unfriended her (along with 150 other "friends").  There.  I showed her (and the rest of "them").  

It felt good for a few minutes, but then the sadness and anger crept back in again because even though I no longer have to look at her blatant show of fun and wealth, I know that it is still happening.  They'll be snorkeling while I am sitting at my desk typing and slaving over my next project.  They'll be walking barefoot on the beach while I am trudging to and from the train in feet of snow, slush and ice.  They'll be out enjoying dinner and cocktails together while I am eating dinner by myself in front of the TV while my husband is at CrossFit for 2 1/2 hours.

The jealousy has crept back in.  Ugly and ruthless, as ever.  In my SADD (or potentially PMS) state, the pangs of jealousy that used to be saved exclusively for pregnant people are now back in full force and they are threatening to wreck my sanity once again.  The treadmill that I used to run on for fun an hour a day, I now step on at 4:40 AM every day and don't get off until I lay my head down for 3 hours of sleep starting at 9 PM.  Something has got to change.  I haven't figured out what I need to change, how I am going to change it, or when I am going to start, but I know that I cannot keep this up for the foreseeable future.  I won't make it and my poor family will disown me.  Until then.  Deep breathes.  In and out.    

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This past weekend, my husband and I decided to try the whole going out to dinner thing again.  We bathed the little guy early, I nursed him right before we left, and we drove 40 minutes to our destination.  To our delight, he was passed out when we made our entrance into the busy restaurant.  We were both worried that baby B might ruin our our dinner out like he did last time.  The good news is that he didn't ruin our night.  The bad news is that I did.

The beginning of dinner was ok.  We were both starving so we ordered quite a bit of food.  So much that it actually made the waitress ask us if we were sure we wanted so much.  I had not eaten very much all day and neither had my husband.  Over micro-brewed beers, my husband and I talked about, what else, the baby.  We talked about the baby until we ran out of new things to talk about regarding the baby.  Then we just kind of sat there looking around.  We always had stuff to talk about.  Ugh.  All I could think about was that were were those people that I saw in a restaurant that sat there and didn't talk.  I always felt bad for those people.  We had gotten into a fight earlier in the week about working out, schedules, and who does more for the baby.  We had agreed to talk about it when we go on our little family trip next weekend.  I couldn't stand the silence though and HAD to bring it up.

What happened next was truly awful.  First, I brought up how CrossFit is ruining my life (dramatic much?).  My argument was that it has become the sole focus in my husband's life and comes before the baby and me.  I talked about how the rigid class schedule makes for a very hectic Monday and Wednesday for me because I am left taking care of the baby and making dinner alone.  I brought up how I feel like that is all he ever wants to talk about or watch.  I mentioned how I feel like if I don't join CrossFit that it is going to drive us farther and farther apart because I feel left out of the "club".  I whined about how a CrossFitter that just had a baby via c-section 3 weeks ago, after preeclampysia already looked better than I did now, almost 5 months later.  You think I would have felt that I had piled on enough shit there, but I just kept on going.

I ripped my poor husband apart for nearly 25 minutes on the guise of being angry about CrossFit, when in fact it had nothing to do with CrossFit at all.  It was just the easiest subject to get at and my husband was a sitting duck.  My husband would try to talk and I'd cut him off with a smart @$$ comment about CrossFit.  It got to the point where my husband was asking me if I was trying to get him to divorce me, but I couldn't stop myself from dredging up every minute thing that had bothered me about our relationship for the past 5 months.  In my head, I knew I should stop, but my mouth just kept on going.  It got so bad that the waitress was afraid to come over to our table.  She kind of threw the check on the table and sprinted off.  We weren't shouting, but we were so deep in conversation and both on the verge of tears.

The few words that I let my husband counter with hurt, but they were mostly true.  He asked me if I understood that I hadn't put him first in years.  Since we started trying for a baby, basically.  He was right.  The baby race had been my first priority for some time.  He told me that I used to have such a positive outlook on life and now pretty much saw the glass half empty.  He highlighted that I am never happy and always jealous of others.  He brought up how he had gone from being a generally unhealthy person, to now a very healthy person.  Then he said this, that really affected me, "We have the perfect family and so many people would love to be in our shoes.  We have a nice house, nice cars, good jobs, good health, and beautiful baby boy".  He was so right.  I knew it.  What the hell was wrong with me?

My husband paid the check and we were getting ready to leave when an older lady tapped me on the shoulder.  I was paranoid that she was going to say something about our conversation, when all she wanted to do was congratulate us on how beautiful and perfect our sleeping baby was.  I thanked her and almost burst into tears.  My husband and I couldn't get out of there fast enough after that.

The car ride home was quiet until my husband asked me where we should go from here.  I didn't know what to say.  He told me he would quit CrossFit if it would turn things around for me and make me happier and he didn't say it in a sarcastic manner.  He was serious.  It was at this point that I finally burst into tears.

I told him that I didn't want him to quit CrossFit and, as much as I knock it, I know how much he loves it and how good he is at it.  He places in regional competitions.  How could I tell him to give that up?  Between sobs I finally spit out what the problem really was.  It wasn't CrossFit at all.  It was me.  My self-esteem has taken a nose dive in the past few years.  I went from a super healthy, in-shape, perfect makeup, perfect hair, happy-in-my-own-life marathoner to an unhappy, out of shape, unkempt, jealous, mother.  I never have time to do my hair or makeup anymore.  I don't even have time to iron, my clothes before work.  Every second of my day is filled with some type of activity.  I never have any time to spend on myself.  My baby is growing and thriving and I am falling apart.  In the back of my head, I am worried that my husband will leave me for a young CrossFitter that is more attractive, is in better shape, and would talk about WODs, burpees, and wall balls until the cows come home.  I make up these scenarios of my husband leaving me because I don't feel good enough anymore.  

There, I said it.  This is so hard for me to admit, but I think that I naively thought that having a baby, alone, would make me happy and make my life complete and it didn't.  In fact, it has made me pretty much the worst version of myself and have never felt so unattractive or unlovable.  Please don't get me wrong, I love being a mother and I love my son to death.  I would die for him without so much as a second thought.  I let myself go for so long because my sole focus was on baby, baby, baby.  Now that he is here, I am left with the ruins of that process and it isn't pretty.  My body and mind have both taken a beating.  It took me 2 years to do this to myself, so how do I expect that it will take less than 5 months to undo the damage and be my 2010 self?

To wrap up this long drawn out story, I will say that I really do have the best husband ever.  As soon as I started crying and explained what was really wrong he also started crying.  He said that earlier in his life, he had made the decision to never get married.  Then he met me, he said, and decided that if there was anyone in the world that he could be with the rest of his life, it was me.  He felt so bad that I thought he could ever leave me for anyone else.  No.  Matter.  What.  Period.  He held my hand as he said it and squeezed it tight.  He said he felt bad that I felt so bad and he wanted me to feel good about myself.  He wanted me to be happy again.  Just hearing him say that  made me feel a little better.

I don't think that my body will ever be the same.  All of the 10 mile runs (yes, I ran 10 miles by myself this past weekend at an 8:44 pace **pats back**) aren't going to make my body what it was before I had the baby.  I really need to accept that.  I don't think that my relationship between my husband and I will ever be the same again.  It will never be just us.  It doesn't mean that it can't be great.  It just has to be different.

I know what I need to do.  I need to be kinder to myself.  I need to recognize that I am not perfect and will always be a work-in-progress.  I need to be happy and thankful for what I have and not continue to focus on what others have and be constantly jealous.  I need to remember that marriage is for better or worse.  I've got lots to work on and am beginning to realize that the only person who is really critical of me is me.

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Anyone who has read this blog for a while (let me thank you for doing that right now!) may remember the co-worker/friend that once made me feel like crap regarding my miscarriages, turned understanding about my miscarriages, turned secretive about her pregnancy, turned back into my preggo buddy.  You can get a little background here, here, and here if you are interested.  Well, her last week in the office was the week before I came back.  She was 38 weeks when she stopped coming in, which makes sense.  By the time I was 37 weeks I felt like a beached whale and stopped commuting, so I totally get it. 

The week before I went back to work, my husband, the baby, and I met up with her and her husband for dinner.  It was interesting to hear about how the last few weeks of pregnancy were treating her and how she thought she'd do once the baby was born.  They asked us questions and we gave them honest answers.  They even got to witness me breastfeed the baby at the dinner table.  They seemed prepared enough for the birth of the baby, although I heard rumors from other coworkers that she had the idea that she was going to be bored when she was on maternity leave. Haha.

Yesterday her "supervisor" mentioned to me that she went to the hospital and he thought she was in labor, at 39 weeks.  I sent her a text message mid-day to wish her luck.  By the time I got home from the gym last night, there was a picture posted to FB of her cute little bundle of joy.  She had a baby girl, 7lbs even. 

My first thought was wow, that little girl is super cute and looks like her dad...normal.  My second thought was why was this pregnancy and childbirth thing so easy for her when it was so difficult for me...not normal.  She went into the hospital a week early and half a day later had a healthy baby.  She had the normal pregnancy discomforts of itchy belly, swollen ankles, and fatigue.  She did get RLS at the end, but I would have taken that over PUPPPs any freaking day. 

I whined mentioned it to my husband about it and all he had to say was "don't be a hater".  Easy for him to say, right?  Then I thought to myself, why can I still not get past the feelings of jealousy surrounding pregnancy?  I have a healthy, cute, amazing little boy  and yet I still have to dwell on the fairness of it all.  Even when I am interacting with normal mommies of babies that are the same age as B, I still have this deep seeded sadness and envy.  I feel cheated in more ways than one.   

How nice would it have been to just get pregnant, enjoy the pregnancy, and have a regular, conventional, childbirth?  I still fantasize about this, but know that I'll never have that.  I feel like if I were to be lucky enough to get pregnant again in the future, I am doomed to diabetes, induction, and babies so big that they won't fit through my vag.  It isn't like i am wishing that anyone have difficulty getting pregnant, being pregnant, and/or giving birth.  It is not like that at all.  I just don't understand why so much had to happen to me, one person, while most people float through the whole process with nary a scratch. 

I hope someday I can just move on and focus on the good rather than dwell on the unfortunate events of the past.  Yes, a lot of bad shit happened to me over the past few years, but also, a lot of good things happened.  B is getting cuter by the day, which helps me to stop and refocus on the future and the fact that anything is possible. 

Yesterday, after giving him a bath, I realized that his "caves" were full of "bats" (a.k.a. tons of boogers in his nose).  I asked him if he had boogies in his nose and he started laughing.  I said it again and I got an awesome belly laugh.  My heart melted and thoughts about unfairness were quickly pushed to the back of my consciousness.  I guess everything happens for a reason.

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Last week, my husband and I went on our "babymoon".  No where tropical.  Actually quite the opposite.  It was incredibly freezing and we didn't spend a ton of time outside.  We did get to see our favorite band perform, though, and they were awesome!  Besides seeing the concert, some of the highlights of the trip included: visiting some great coffee shops, doing some shopping for the baby, finding some awesome spots for low-carb and healthy food, working out every day, and taking mid-day naps because we could.  It was great to recharge.

I had been worried that my blood sugar would be hard to control while on the road, but actually it was great the whole time.  Most of my fastings were in the 80s.  I think the lower stress helped me out more than I thought it would.  Oh and I ate a lot of salad and fish.  :)

Another highlight of our trip was getting to see an old friend from college who lived in the area.  We met up with them for dinner on our last night there.  His wife is pregnant and due in the beginning of May, so I figured that we would have a ton of stuff to talk about.  Pretty much their situation was exactly opposite of our's though.  It was difficult to relate so I asked a bunch of questions, but didn't really offer a ton of info.

You might not want to read this because of the incredible differences between "us" and "them".  It is crazy when I think about how two uteruses could be so different.  They got pregnant while on vacation on the first try with their first baby.  She commented that it was so much easier to get pregnant than she thought (it was hard not to cringe as she said this).  She was seeing a midwife (has not seen an OB) and has not had ANY ultrasounds or blood tests.  They also did not plan on getting ANY ultrasounds or blood tests.  They are planning a drug-free home birth.  She is flying for several hours after her 30th week.  The only thing that she had that didn't sound like a dream-come-true was hyperemesis gravidarum for several weeks.

Listening to the two of them talk about how easy everything was and how they really weren't prepared for the baby because everything was going so fast, was difficult to hear.  My husband and I kept exchanging glances back and forth.  They didn't really ask us a ton of questions and I was actually happy about that.  Other than telling them about my GD, because of my dietary restrictions, I didn't go into any of the issues.  I mean what does one say to someone else when they keep talking about how easy pregnancy was to achieve and sustain?  So much for having a lot in common to discuss.

On the way back to the hotel, my husband and I discussed our dinner conversations.  Neither of us could imagine going a whole pregnancy without any ultrasounds.  We also couldn't fathom how someone who had not had any ultrasounds or blood work done (an were having their first child) could be brave enough (or as my husband put it, "stupid enough") to have a home birth.  Part of me was really jealous, though.  I wish I had that sort of innocence and ignorance about pregnancy.  I'll never have that carefree joy.  I have come to accept this, but it always comes back up when I interact with people who have never had any issues.

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Even though I saw my therapist on Tuesday, I am still stuck in this awful rut.  Tuesday, as it turned out, was a great day for me.  I worked from home, I ate perfectly 3 hours spaced apart, I didn't test (at the allowance of the Endocrinologist), and I walked for 40 minutes on the treadmill.  This might have been why my session with the therapist didn't include any crying or breaking down.  I was feeling great.

Yesterday was a different story.  My fasting and 1 hour post-breakfast numbers were ok/good, 90 & 98 respectively.  I think I at least have the breakfast thing down.  Two links of organic turkey sausage, two pieces of low-carb whole grain bread, toasted, with all natural chunky peanut butter, and a cup of N.ewman's Own Organic Special Decaf coffee.  It is satisfying and easy.

Lunch was a different story.  We had baked a pork tenderloin the night before with ratatouille (roasted eggplant, onion, summer squash, and green/red peppers) and baked/chopped sweet potatoes so I brought that for lunch.  I had carefully measured out portions and counted the carbs.  An hour after eating that for lunch my number was 147, when it should be under 140 and ideally under 120.  Damn you sweet potatoes.  Guess that is another healthy food I just can't have for the next few months.  After this setback, my mood started to decline.

I didn't get to the gym yesterday and because it was only about 10 degrees Fahrenheit, I barely walked at all.  I don't think this helped me out.  Work was also stressful.  My boss kept calling over to me every half hour to whine and complain about the system I just delivered her.  Can you say...driving me crazy?!  Every time I would hear her say my name, I think my blood pressure would go up.

Last night I didn't feel like cooking, plus we didn't really have anything to cook, so I suggested Chinese/Japanese.  There is a place by us that we go to that has "diet" selections that I like.  Grilled chicken with mixed veggies and brown rice works for my carb/protein ratio.  I had that a few weeks back and tested fine afterwards.  My husband wasn't in the mood, but he obliged me nonetheless.  I called and ordered.  The person taking my order had extremely broken English.  This worried me.

My husband went to pick up the food and as we sat down to eat, I realized that they gave me the wrong food.  They gave me the chicken with mixed veggies in some unidentified type of sweet white sauce.  It looked (and tasted) totally gross.  This threw me into a tailspin and of course brought on the waterworks.  Frustration, anger, annoyance, hunger...it was all coming together at once and was once again, too much for me and my pregnancy hormones to handle.  I completely lost it.  I went to the freezer where I found a bag of frozen shrimp stir fry.  I angrily measured out my small one and a half cup portion and threw it in the pan.  I was seriously ready to smash something.

I ate that with a half cup of brown rice.  It was well under my carb limit of 45g (I think it was around 35g).  Unfortunately my fucked up body decided to throw another one at me and give me a 145, 1 hour after dinner, which was my worst post dinner reading by far.  Normally that is my lowest of the day.  I guess I didn't have enough protein?  I don't know. It was just too much.  I was still hungry and tired and I didn't want to wait up another hour and a half for my number to go down so that I could have a snack.  I said fuck it and I just went to bed.  It was just too much for me to handle.

As I laid in bed last night I felt the baby moving around and kicking.  It makes me sad because I am not enjoying pregnancy like I thought I would.  I cried myself to sleep.

I am worried about going out of town this weekend to MIL's and next week my husband and I are supposed to go on a mini-babymoon to see our favorite band play.  We are staying in a hotel for 3 nights.  How am I going to be able to eat what I need to eat on a schedule?  Rather than being excited for the babymoon, like I was a few weeks back, it is stressing me out.  I don't even want to go anymore.

I have been having some thoughts lately about my miscarriages and have been tying them back to this whole situation.  Was the fact that my body was aborting pregnancies on its own trying to send me the message that my body never wanted to be or should have gotten pregnant?  Did I force my body to do something that it didn't think it was capable of handling by taking meds to sustain a pregnancy?  Did I mess myself up for good?

I am not quite sure what to do at this point.  I think I am going to call my MFM doctor today and have them put me on meds.  I really hate taking anything else, but I don't know what to do.  I don't know if I am hurting the baby more by letting my body go uncontrolled like this or if the medicine will hurt him.  I feel like either way, I lose and so does my baby.

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If you have been following along for a while (or have read my timeline) you'll know that just a few short years  my husband wanted absolutely nothing to do with children.  He did not like them and definitely did not want any of his own.  I actually shared this same sentiment until I hit the age of about 28 and started seeing friends start families.  For me it was sort of like a maternal instinct kicked in all of a sudden.  I would see pregnant women and babies and feel an intense longing to start a family.  This did not start for my husband at the same time as it did for me.

There was a time in our relationship a few years back when I wanted to have a child (all I wanted was one) and my husband did not.  I thought that it might rip our relationship apart and so many sad thoughts were running through my head about our lonely future together.

I think we had only 3 really serious conversations regarding starting a family and my husbands reasons for not wanting kids were (and not in any particular order): he was afraid that he wouldn't be a good father,  he was afraid our child would be born with a serious birth defect, he just didn't like kids, he liked being a twosome and didn't want to come second, he wanted to travel, he didn't want to budget, he didn't like the thought of going to kids events, etc.  From this list, it sounds like he is a terrible and cold guy, but he isn't.  He ended up crying during one conversation and leaving during another.  Those were pretty dark days.

After that, I decided to give up the dream and topic for a while.  I needed to see if I could imagine a life with just the two of us.  We had some very fun times together after that.  We went to St. Lucia, went to Topsail Island, went out with friends, and generally enjoyed each other's company.  I did still feel pangs of jealousy and sadness whenever I got a birth announcement in the mail, saw something on FB, or got invited to a 1 year old's birthday party.  I remember a time when my Mom came to visit.  We walked with my dog to the beach and we saw a baby and his grandmother playing in the sand.  I told my Mom about our issue and she told me to give it time and that eventually he would come around.  I didn't believe her at the time.

Then his friend's wife got pregnant and everything changed.  He brought up the fact that he wanted to start trying and I nearly had a heart attack.  I wasn't sure exactly what changed his mind, but I think it was when he saw his friend holding their baby.  He saw the love between the two of them.  It was like the Grinch.  His heart grew 3 sizes that day he met their baby.  I am eternally grateful for her (their baby). :)

So then you all know what ensued when we started "trying".  Yeah I won't rehash that sad story, but you all know anyways.  Now we are here.  Cautiously, but optimistically growing our little boy.

So you might be wondering about the title of this post and what it means?  After our 3rd miscarriage, my husband and I were walking on the beach with our "son-dog" (one of the many names for our Dal) and he told me that he decided he wanted to have 2 kids.  That totally shocked me, but in a good way.  He said he wanted our child to have a best friend through life and someone to be around when we weren't anymore.  I agreed.  I was just worried we would have trouble even getting one.

Last night was my office Christmas party. My husband and I went even though I didn't really feel like it and none of my work friends were going.  It is a pretty big event with lots of booze, good food, and lots of people I don't know.  While we were standing and I was thoroughly enjoying a plate of fried calamari and kalamata olives, my husband popped the following question, "How many kids do you think we'll have?".

I was thinking this was a trick question so I said, "Let's start with this one and see how it goes.  Then hopefully we can have another someday."  That was what we had decided on during that walk on the beach.

He looked at me with a smirk.

I said, "Wait are you saying you want to have more than 2 kids??"

He smiled and said, "Yes, maybe."

I was in again in a state of shock!  What the heck happened to my husband?!  He went from kid-hater to family man?  I mean don't get me wrong, I love this new side of him.  It really makes me happy, but after all of the trouble that we went through (both mental and physical) for this one... I dunno, it is tough to think about trying for more than even one child at this point.  I am still worrying about getting this one into the world safely.  I am sure that I will change my mind though.  When I see this baby being born and then see him turn one, I'll have longings for those kicks from the inside again.  :)

P.S. 23 weeks today!

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Thanks for all of the comments/feedback.  After thinking it over, I decided that I am not going to stop blogging.  I am going to try to let myself be a little more open with my thoughts and my ideas.  I need this space for me.  It helps to get out my thoughts and I really love interacting with others who really get it.

I am still on the fence about commenting though.  I have a core group of ladies blogs that I comment on regularly.  They comment on mine.  I consider them friends...real friends, even though I have never met any of them in person.  I feel like I really do know them.  I feel comfortable commenting on their blogs.  I think that limiting my blog list and stopping "drive by" commenting, even where friend bloggers solicit support for their blogger friends or I feel like I really get what the person is experiencing, is the way to go.  I don't ever want my comments to be taken the wrong way and I never have had the intention of hurting another blogger and if they don't know me or really know where I have come from then I guess this is possible.  Hopefully this is the last I'll be writing about this because this space is supposed to be for blogging about loss and pregnancy after loss and not blogging about blogging!

This past weekend, my husband and I sent out holiday cards which I created through V.ista P.rint.  I have been creating yearly cards (and sometimes calendars) for friends and family.  My cards, up until this year, have consisted of my furbaby family.  It has always been my year-long goal of getting them together for a picture where they are all looking at the camera.  As you can see, last year I succeeded, naturally!

2009

2010

2011

Last year around the holidays was tough for us.  We had our second miscarriage in the middle of December.  Holiday cards flooded my mailbox with pictures of new babies and happy families.  It was a tough pill to swallow.  My mom came up to help me through it (this was my only natural miscarriage so I wasn't sure how hard it would be).  She was amazing through everything.  She made me tea and watched K.eeping up with the K.ardashian's with me.  She also helped me bake cookies, which is something that I love to do.  At Christmas, I make 13-15 different kinds on my own.  I bake for 3 days straight and then deliver (or mail) bags and boxes to my friends and family.  Since I wasn't feeling very festive last year, my mom helped me make about 6 different doughs before she left.  Somehow I managed the strength to get all 15 cookies mixed, baked, frosted, decorated, bagged, boxed, mailed, and delivered.  Not sure where that drive came from as I bled heavily.  Maybe it was a defense mechanism?

This year my husband and I decided that we had been withholding the news of this little guy for too long.  Even though we will never feel comfortable with things regarding this pregnancy, we decided to combine our yearly card (with furbabies, too) with a baby/gender announcement.  Let me tell you, as I created and ordered the cards, I was filled with fear.  I was filled with even more fear on Saturday and I addressed and stuffed the envelopes.  What if this doesn't work out?  What if something bad happens in the last 18 or so weeks?  To me, it seems like I have been trying to hide this pregnancy, even at 21 1/2 weeks.  Still worried that I might lose the baby.  The truth is, nothing is certain.  No one can guarantee me a baby in a few months.  I need to accept that.  I also need to accept the fact that I am visibly pregnant.  Pregnant enough where strangers tell me congrats and where my co-workers tell me I "look so big".  There is always a chance that something will go wrong.  Sending out a card isn't going to make the chance any higher (man miscarriage has made me so superstitious!).  It is what it is.  What will be will be.

So this year we sent out cards and included our whole family and we are hoping and praying for the best in 2013.  :)

2012

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For a change, I am not using the word jealousy to describe my envy of someone with a sizable bump or a cute little newborn.  Nope.  This time I am using it to describe something completely different.  Please don't judge me too harshly.

Let me start with a little background, which I think I may have mentioned before.  My husband is in awesome shape right now.  I mean he is usually in great shape, but right now he is probably in the best shape that he has ever been in EVER.  He started doing C.rossfit a few months ago and recently got invited to be on the competition team at his C.rossfit gym.  When he first told me that he was asked to be on the team, I was so excited for him.  I pictured he and a bunch of super-fit guys lifting weights and doing lots of burpees at competitions.  I was right to some extent, but not completely.  I found out that about 65% of the team is made up of girls in their early twenties.

At his first competition a few weeks ago, I felt very awkward.  Here is my husband laughing and joking with a bunch of super-fit 23 year old girls while I sit on my lazy behind and "cheer them on".  There are a few really nice girls on the team who have been very friendly to me right off the bat.  There are several others who I can tell want nothing to do with me.  I can tell that me being there interferes with their ability to flirt with my husband unabashedly.

My husband has been going to C.rossfit practices two times a week, plus regular workouts 2-3 days a week for a few months.  These practices and classes last for 2 hours a night.  Basically, I see my husband for 1 hour a night if I am lucky since I have been going to bed at 8:30-9 PM since I have been pregnant so basically, he spends more time with these girls right now.  Oh yeah and we haven't had sex in over 4 months and I have been shooting this gross yeast infection cream up my who-ha for the past 6 nights.  That's hot.   I have started developing a complex.  A serious jealous complex.  Not a good side of me.

Yesterday my husband had another competition that he wanted his mom and I to go to.  He left at 7 AM to meet up with 3 other competitors to drive down together.  Two of the competitors were girls.  The thought of it drove me absolutely crazy.  He did end up having to drive down separately though because his mom was going to drive back home directly from the competition.  That made me feel a little better until my mind started imagining things like one of those girls hoping in for a ride.  Ugh.

The competition itself was very long (over 5 hours).  My MIL and I got there at 10 AM and we both brought our dogs which proved to be huge pains in the asses.  We spent most of the day outside, freezing, because those competitions never have big venues and half of the activities are outside.  It was great to see my husband competing because he really is talented.  I videotaped all four of my husbands events.  He was awesome and I was so proud.

At one point I was standing around with my husband, MIL, and his 3 teammates (the guy is nice, one of the girls is nice, the other girl is not-so-nice).  I noticed that the not-so-nice girl was wearing a sweatshirt from the college I graduated from so I asked her if she went there.  She replied "only for a semester" and then walked away.  Ummm ok bitch.

Towards the end of the day, my back started hurting from controlling my dog on his leash for several hours.  My husband had finished his last round, it was already pushing 3:30 PM and I was super hungry.  I thought we were going to leave, but my husband said he wanted to watch the girls last competition.  I felt my blood start to curdle.  He, his teammate, and mom were all standing across the ring watching those two girls lift weights shouting for them.  I stood across on the other side.  They waved at me to come stand with them but I declined their invitation and went to the car and sat with my dog.  I was really feeling sorry for myself at this point.  Quiet tears running down my face.

I am not trying to complain about being pregnant here, so please save your judgements if you think I am just being selfish.  I am so happy to be be pregnant with my son.  I love him so much and I am so grateful for everything that I have right now.  I am also human and have tons of extra hormones in my body right now.  I am being completely honest here.  I have started to feel very depressed.  I have started to have body image issues.  Here I am, watching my husband who is in great shape, handsome, friendly, funny, cheer for some in-shape 23 year old girls that flirt with him tirelessly.  I am in terrible shape.  No muscle.  No endurance.  I have only been focused on one thing for the past 2 years...getting pregnant and having a baby.  I have let everything else go. 

In the car ride on the way home, I was quiet for a while and vowed to myself that I would not mention my jealousy to my husband because I didn't want to wreck his day.  Somehow it slipped out though.  I couldn't help myself.  I brought up how I felt left out and how it made me so uncomfortable that the girls were flirting with him and that him cheering from them really made me feel bad.  I missed him cheering me on when I was racing competitively.  I told him that I was jealous of his interaction with the girls on the team.  I told him I thought one of the girls had a crush on him.  As the words escaped my lips, I regretted them.  I felt bad.  Why was I trying to wreck his moment and making this about me?  I was so angry with myself.

To my complete surprise, he wasn't at all mad at me (which honestly made me feel worse).  He told me he understood and knew that it was killing me to sit on the sidelines and not exercise and be the athlete.  He told me that he had no idea that the girls might have been hitting on him because he was focused on the competition.  He told me that he was actually flattered that I was jealous and said it was cute.  He told me that my job right now was to grow a healthy baby and it was ok that I wasn't in the best shape of my life (even though he told me he thought I was in better shape than a lot of the girls in the competition...haha).  He told me that he was sure I would bounce back into shape in the spring and that he couldn't wait to cheer for me.  Seriously, I felt like a complete piece of shit.  Oh and while we were driving he got a text from his teammate saying they got 3rd place in the team competition.  His teammate was standing alone on the podium with a medal.  I felt even more like a piece of shit for complaining that I was hungry and making us leave before he could get an award.  I suck.

Well he was right about the athlete thing for sure.  I miss being in good shape.  I miss racing.  I miss getting the attention and the pats on the back for doing a good job and setting a new PR.  Seeing those girls get high fives and pats on the back from my husband kills me.  Hearing them cheer for him makes my skin crawl.   That is only part of it, though.  Just knowing that he is spending so much more time with them hurts my ego feelings and makes me feel inadequate.  I am not sure how I can get past this.  I have not dealt with this type of jealousy since college.  I guess one more thing to talk about with the therapist next week.

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Is it strange that when someone asks me about my pregnancy that I feel weird talking about it?  I don't like telling people that I am pregnant.  Is it odd that I still wear baggy clothes/sweaters to work and have not mentioned my pregnancy to anyone other than my boss and a few close friends?  I am definitely popping out of my clothes.  Is it weird I still don't feel like this pregnancy is for real yet?  I have not felt any consistent movement and have not gotten the results from the Quad Screen back yet.  Am I just nuts?  Probably.

I am not sure if I am the only one here, but I am compelled to speak about the trouble that my husband and I had when conceiving this child.  When someone finds out that I am pregnant (usually from someone else, like my husband or my Mom) and they ask me questions about the pregnancy, I feel like I have to mention that it wasn't easy for us to get to this point.  I feel like if I don't bring up my miscarriages that I am lying.  I am also so much more conscientious about the fact that the person that I am talking to might have had trouble or be having trouble conceiving so I withhold most pregnancy details.  I can't imagine just being a normal pregnant person and yapping about how morning sickness sucked and about how many times I wake up every night to pee. 

When I called me Uncle and Aunt to tell them them I was pregnant (only so they didn't hear it from someone else first), I told them about this pregnancy and then I had to explain that we had trouble, but didn't get into the whole loss conversation.  Part of the reason that I mentioned having trouble is because I know that my Aunt had trouble.  She had only one child and I know that she was always kind of jealous of my Mom having 7.  I mean who could blame her?  She seemed very happy for me even before I got into the whole having trouble portion of the conversation, but I still felt compelled to share.

Then I called my cousin (their daughter, because I didn't want her to hear it from them and not me).  I was worried about telling my cousin because she is 35, unmarried, and I know would love to be a mommy someday.  I told her about my pregnancy and then immediately went into the story of my 3 losses in great detail.  For some reason I felt that might make her feel better?  I think I probably just made her feel awkward because I don't think she knew quite how to respond.  Luckily she is currently dating someone and they just got serious.  She acted very happy towards me.  I probably didn't need to go into all the sad details, but again, I did anyways.

When I was visiting family and people commented on this pregnancy I would clam up.  Of course I would bring up the fact that it wasn't easy for us in EVERY conversation and make the other person feel extremely awkward and sorry that they ever mentioned anything.  I just couldn't help it.  Why???  I told my Mom that I kept doing this and she told me that I didn't owe anyone an explanation about how I got to where I was and that I should just try to enjoy the moment and be happy. 

I know my Mom was right.  I don't need to tell everyone about my lost babies.  I don't need to tell them about my surgeries or about how I needed to take fertility meds to conceive this baby.  I can be respectful about how I talk about this pregnancy without going into all of the nitty-gritty details about exactly how I got here.

I am still not sure when I am going to tell people at work or even if I have to.  Can I just stop covering it up and wait for people to ask me or is that rude?  Does anyone else feel the need to discuss the problems that they had conceiving when telling others about your current pregnancy?  Does anyone else still struggle with when, how, and/or if to tell someone?  Even if you are not pregnant yet, will you tell others about your struggles or try to be that normal pregnant lady?

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I mentioned this a little in my last post, but my anxiety around this pregnancy, ultrasounds, obstetricians, symptoms (or lack of), another miscarriage, etc., has gotten to be more than I think I am capable of dealing with on my own.  This is kind of difficult for me to write about because I might seem like I am not grateful or happy to be where I am to those of you who are struggling to conceive right now.  It is quite the contrary, though.  I am so elated and feel so blessed to be here right now, but I can't seem to get out of my own head for 5 minutes at a time to enjoy any of this because I am still so worried that something is going to go wrong.

Here is an example of my anxiety getting the best of me...

At my last NT appointment, besides obsessing over the NT measurements, I also started to obsess over the flu shot that I unexpectedly got and told myself that I would NEVER get.  My husband and I talk about flu shots all the time and while I won't express all of our conspiracy theories in this venue, lets suffice it to say that neither of us "believe" in them or their "worth".  During the great swine flu "epidemic" while many people were running to get the H1N1 vaccine, my husband and I were running from it.  My husband did get the dreaded swine flu, I did not.  It wasn't that bad.  He was sick at home for a day or 2.  Much less worse than a bad throat infection I had several years back.

So anyways, back to the flu shot.  At the end of my appointment, my doctor strongly suggested (again) that I get the flu shot.  I had told him previously that I was worried about it causing problems with my pregnancy (i.e. causing miscarriages) and he agreed to wait a few weeks until I was out of the first trimester.  Well a few weeks passed.  He said that getting the flu while pregnant is dangerous to mom and baby...pre-term labor...yadda...yadda...yadda.  My husband looked at me and I looked at him and in a moment of weakness I said ok.  The midwife then shot me up in the left arm.  Ouch.

So then when I got home that night I started to feel a little off.  Of course my thoughts went to the flu shot and I started thinking...miscarriage.  You'll be proud that I didn't G.oogle it (I have G.oogled it in the past, though), but I started having such bad thoughts that it was doing damage to the baby.  I really started freaking myself out.  The next day at work, I did the same thing.  Anxiety most of the day when I touched my left arm and felt how sore it was.  Last night, I got home from work and really started doubting things.  I reluctantly pulled out the Doppler.  I found the baby right away.  Little heart beating away.  I breathed a sigh of relief, but for how long?  Elizabeth, at Bebe Suisse talked about this in her post today.  I can totally relate.  These little things give us an idea of how things are right now.  They don't predict anything and they get very addictive.

I just need to figure out a way to stop letting my past miscarriage experiences continue to taint my current pregnancy, which is completely different except for the date of my LMP (4 days before the LMP of my first miscarriage).  I need to figure out how to stop dooming this poor baby I have growing in my uterus right now.  It has no idea that 3 poor babies came and went before it.  Right now, it is happy swimming and living in there.  Would it be almost a week ahead if it were not doing well?  I need to stop assuming the worst at every appointment.  I need to trust the doctor when he tells me that everything looks good and not turn to unidentifiable resources on the Internet for my information.  I need to start treating this baby like it deserves to be treated and not trying to disassociate myself from it because I am afraid that tomorrow it might not be there.

I am not sure if going to therapy again is going to help me with all of this.  After my Dad died, I talked to a therapist.  Unfortunately she did not helped me and actually rubbed me the wrong way so I stopped seeing her.  I worked through things on my own with running and yoga.  Well too bad I can't run right now and I am not sure how to proceed with yoga (or if I even should right now).  You all know that I tried the group therapy to deal with my losses.  That helped for a while, but then I got pregnant and almost everyone turned on me, so yeah I stopped going.  My acupuncturist released me so I don't have that stress relief anymore.  Therapy is my only hope right now.  I am hoping that this lady can help me work through these issues.  My baby and I would be so very grateful.  

On a happier note, back when I first found out I was pregnant and when I wasn't feeling so great nausea-wise, my husband and I made a deal that he would buy me and Edible Arrangement if I made it to 12 weeks.  Well today, I got my edible arrangement.  I am 13 weeks today, but who's counting.  ;)

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Sorry that this update is kind of late.  We didn't get home from the appointment until almost 7 PM on Tuesday and I have been so busy at work that I haven't had time to write an update.  Thus, this might be rather short because I am again on a time crunch.  I have a huge presentation of my new product to our COO/CTO today and I am once again under the gun!

The exam, overall, went well even though we had a tough time getting there.  I thought the exam was at 3:45 PM, when in fact I realized on Tuesday that it was at 2:45 PM.  Ooops.  I called my husband (freaking out) to let him know that we would need to leave early.  Luckily, that wasn't a huge problem.  Then, on the drive there, we got stuck in a huge traffic jam because some jerk-off decided to drive his tractor-trailer in a tunnel with a low clearance and got stuck.  We finally got to the hospital and as soon as we checked in and sat down in the very crowded waiting room, the fire alarm went off.  They closed up parts of the hospital and things were pretty stagnant for 25 minutes.  Needless to say, it didn't matter that we were 10 minutes late.

After sitting in the waiting room for 50 minutes, anxious/nauseous/heart beating out of my chest, we finally got called in for the scan part of the exam.  The tech was really nice.  I told him how nervous I was and he immediately put me at ease when he showed me the wiggly baby on the screen with a happily beating heart.  I was able to breathe a little more after that.  It was so cool to see the little waving hands and the little feet.  It really did seem surreal.

The baby really wanted to be in either a downward or upward facing position so the tech was having a tough time getting measurements.  He would try to coax the baby to the side position with the ultrasound wand, but the baby would flip right back to one of the original positions.  Very stubborn, that is definitely my child in there.  Finally he was able to get the baby into a good position and get some measurements.  He told us the measurement was 1.6 mm after measuring 2 times and said the baby looked good and healthy.  He then left and sent in the radiologist for a final review.

The radiologist then came in with a resident and they started scanning again.  Of course, the baby went back to one of the more comfortable positions.  She told us that the baby was measuring 13.3 weeks (even though I was 12 weeks 4 days, by my dating ultrasound).  She got the baby to turn into a side view position with some more pushing with the wand, snapped some measurements, then asked us is we wanted a guess on the gender.  Ummmm, yes!  Unfortunately my husband refuses to let me say anything to anyone so I can't say what they said.  We need a few more weeks to make that part of things official.

After the scan we headed over to the doctor's office.  For some reason I was still really anxious while sitting in the waiting room. Of course the first thing they did when I got into the exam room was to take my blood pressure.  Again, it was high, 138/70.  I could tell that I was anxious and I told the tech again.  She said the doctor would review it.  Always something.

The doctor came in and looked over the test results and said that everything looked good.  He explained a little more about the 2 part NT exam that I had opted for (I wasn't really sure which one to pick, but he recommended that one at my first appointment, so I complied).  Basically, I had the ultrasound and got blood taken on Tuesday and I have to go back for more blood work on 10/16.  Then I find out the results at my appointment on 10/30.  More things for me to worry about and obsess over, yay.  We talked a little about my blood pressure and he mentioned that I may have developed "White Coat Syndrome" due to my history of miscarriage.  This is when blood pressure spikes when anxiety related to a doctor's visit occurs.  He said that he wasn't worried about it right now, but that he might send me home with a monitor if it continues to be high when I visit.  Ummm yeah I can tell you right now that it will continue to be high each time I visit because I am now conditioned to feel this way after 3 miscarriages.  I ALWAYS expect bad news at an appointment regarding pregnancy.  Awesome.

We left the appointment feeling pretty good about things and excited to call my grandma.  I then happened to glance at the report in the car and I noticed that the report said the NT thickness was 2.0.  I was kind of confused since the tech told us that it was 1.6.  How did the estimate change so much??  I know that anything under 2.6 is considered to be a "normal" screen, but of course seeing a 2 on that paper scared me and sent me into a G.oogle frenzy when I got home.  That G.oogle frenzy led to me to another piece of the puzzle that neither the doctor nor the radiologist mentioned...the presence or absence of a nasal bone.  Why can't I believe it when the high-risk OB who specializes in dealing with people who have abnormal scans on a regular basis, tells me that the scan was normal?  What the heck is wrong with me?  Why don't I trust doctors and think that I can come up with more accurate diagnoses via the Internet?  I always do this to myself.  It is like I am trying to convince myself that there is a problem now.  Another miscarriage casualty.  Does anyone else do this or does the cheese stand alone here?

To end this post that I thought would be short, but ended up not being so short, we did call me grandma on the way home.  She was beyond ecstatic, as we expected.  It was so nice telling her that she would probably become a great grandmother in a few months.  :)

If you are interested, click over to see some pics of our growing Button.  Doesn't really look like a button anymore!

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One year ago today, my husband and I walked into the OB with the hopes of our first conceived baby being alive and left in tears after learning there was no heartbeat.  Yes, we had a scan earlier in the week that provided us with the gloom and doom of a heartbeat in the 60s and the baby measuring almost 2 weeks behind, but we held out some hope that there was a mistake.  Unfortunately, there was no mistake.  I couldn't watch as the ultrasound tech took measurements of our dead baby.  I had my first D&C, two days later.

One year ago today, our lives were forever changed.  All of the excitement and innocence of pregnancy was taken away from us, never to return.  "Bad luck," all of the doctors and nurses declared.  "It happens to one out of 4 pregnancies," was the canned response.  "At least you know you can get pregnant easily," they said to try to make me feel better.  It just felt like a bad dream to me.  Like I was not in my own body anymore and was looking at someone else.  This couldn't happen to me.  I was healthy and active.  I did everything right.  I took my vitamins, I didn't eat lunch meat or unpasteurized cheese, I cut back on my running.  I never bled or cramped.  Why did this happen to me??

One year ago today, my husband and I came back to our house, sobbing.  Our dog knew something was wrong and laid down, sadly, at our feet.  My husband and I held each other and tried to convince ourselves that this was a once in a lifetime event.  Something that we would never have to experience again.  We vowed to start trying again as soon as the doctor's said it was ok.  Little did we know that this was only the start of our year from hell.

One year ago today, the seasons were starting to transition from the heat and humidity of summer to the crisp coolness of fall.  I was completely oblivious to the change of seasons.  Last year, I totally missed fall.  By the time I came out of my miscarriage fog, there were no more leaves on the trees and a winter jacket was necessary.

One year ago today, seems like yesterday, but also seems so very far away.  We have been through so much in a year and have come so very far.  We are both totally different people today, than we were just one year ago.

Today is complicated.  I am sad about losing my first baby.  I am still so worried that I might miscarry this baby.  I wonder constantly what happened with those first two miscarriages and why I had a chromosomal issue with the last one.  I am angry that this happened to me while others have kid after kid with no issue.  I am confused as to why someone with my healthy lifestyle would have a miscarriage at all.  I am cautiously hopeful for the future.  I am trying put the past behind me and not let it taint this pregnancy, but it is so difficult.  My anxiety and fears of another miscarriage haunt me while I am awake and while I am asleep.  I am trying to move forward even though it feels like I am still stuck in the mud.

Today is also my 100th post on this blog.  It is kind of odd that it falls on this day.  I never thought that I would still be blogging in mid-September when I started this back in April, fresh off of my 3rd miscarriage.  I really never thought that I would find such amazing and supportive people through blogging.  I have said it before, but I will say it again.  All of you lovely ladies (you know who you are) have picked me up and carried me when I needed it.  Your comments and emails mean the world to me.  You are all so wonderful and I am so lucky to have met you all.  I wish so badly that none of us had to go through this and I pray every night that we can all come out of this on the other side.

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In all my years of owning a cell phone (since the year 2000, I believe) I have never had to hear the unfriendly reminder message that my mailbox was full and that I should delete some saved messages so that I could continue receiving new ones.  Well I got to hear that message for the first time today when I saw that I had 4 new voicemails and immediately upon dialing voicemail, I got the unfriendly reminder.  Oops.

My 4 new voicemails included 2 automated messages reminding me of my ultrasound and follow-up with my RE on Friday.  Gulp.  The next one was a message from one of my RE's nurses saying that they wanted to up my does of Levo to 50 mcg.  The message after that was also from the same nurse telling me that she had misread my chart and that I could stay on the 25 mcg as long as I came back for a follow-up in 3 weeks.  Sigh.  Another mix-up.  The story of my life with that place.  At least they were able to correct it without getting me involved.

After listening to and deleting the new messages I moved on to the archived messages.  I hate deleting old messages because I hate listening to them.  I hate listening to them even more so when I know that my last year has been littered with upsetting messages.  I had no idea how far back those messages went and what I had kept, but I quickly found out.

The first, oldest, and most upsetting message was from the hospital calling to confirm my D&C in March.  I listened up until the point of them telling me not to eat or drink anything for 12 hours prior and I lost it.  Completely bawling my eyes out.  Why on earth did I save that message?  Talk about ripping off a scab.  Delete.

Next few messages were from my mortgage company regarding my refinance that has been going on since, yes, March and is still not closed.  Reminds me to call those assholes tomorrow to see what the hell is up with that.  Delete, delete, delete, delete...

The next most upsetting message was from my RE explaining that results of my last baby's chromosome analysis was abnormal for isochromosome 8 and that is what "explained" my last miscarriage.  More tears.  I guess I just saved it in case I needed to go back and research it later.  Delete.

I had a couple of messages from the psychologist's office confirming appointments and giving directions.  No need to keep those...delete, delete.

After a few more stupid messages from the fertility pharmacy and FedEx, the last message made me cry, again.  It was recent.  From the one of my RE's nurses (the one I like the best) wishing me congratulations on my very positive pregnancy test.  I lost it again.  You can imagine my dog staring at me in complete wonder when I would cry, delete, cry, delete.  He laid his head on my lap and looked at me with the kind of worry that only a doggie has.  Gosh, I love him.

I didn't delete that message.  I couldn't.  It was the only happy one out of them all, but it still made me cry.  They weren't tears of joy either, unfortunately.  They were anxious tears.  Uncertain tears.  Worried tears.  Will I ever not feel this way?  Worried that at any minute the rug is going to be pulled out from under me yet again?  Scared that this child might have the same fate as the last 3?  I am trying so hard to be positive, but I am failing at that.  My thoughts always go back to negative "what ifs?".

Sorry for all of the really depressed sounding posts lately.  As Trisha at The Elusive Second Line mentioned in her post today, I am not always sad and depressed, either.  Normally I am a fun and cheery person.  I have always been optimistic, but realistic.  I am sort of all over the place right now, up and down, side to side, and I feel like I can really share all of those thoughts in this venue without judgement.  So thanks to you all, my therapists.  Thanks for continuing to read, continuing to really listen, and continuing to comment when you can.  You have no idea how much it means to me.

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**WARNING- LONG POST AHEAD**

The weekend was going so well, too... 

On Sunday, my husband and I decided to hit the beach early since the forecast called for showers in the afternoon.  The sun was shining and it was quite warm, but there was a great breeze off the water.  I was set up with the latest edition of Glamour (don't judge) and my husband with his Kind.le, just relaxing by the water's edge.  Then I had to open my big mouth and that is where things started to go bad.

Earlier that day, I had decided that I was going to work remotely today so that I could leave a little earlier for tonight's group therapy session.  While I was sitting there peacefully reading my magazine, I remembered that I had rescheduled acupuncture for today at 11:30 AM.  I had already rescheduled this appointment several times and while I was sitting there thinking, it occurred to me that I might be doing too much at this point in time and that it might be time to cut something out.  After all, the point of acupuncture or the therapy group is not to cause more stress, but to alleviate it.  I said (out loud) that I might put acupuncture on hold for a while until my therapy group was completed.  My husband shook his head and uttered the words "you are crazy" with a sarcastic chuckle. 

It was at this point that things started to take a turn for the worst.  Hearing those 3 words put me into a tailspin and I started running my mouth.  We argued about my many (and varying) infertility related endeavors that I have undertaken recently and how they were or were not helping.  Ultimately, the fight ensued because I wanted his support of my temporary cancellation of acupuncture and he gave me the exact opposite response that I was looking for.  He thought I should go because, like many of my other ventures, I started something and did not seen it through to the end.  How could I know that it was helping me or not, he argued.  I hated to admit that he was right. 

At one point in the conversation when I was talking, I noticed he was looking past me.  I turned around to see a woman walking toward us with her humongous breasts literally falling out of her bathing suit.  I lost it and made a comment that since we were having a serious conversation I'd appreciate if he would not stare at that woman's boobs and pay attention to me when I was talking.  I guess that was the straw that broke the camel's back.  He promptly put down his Kind.le and said he was taking a walk so I could cool off.

While he was gone I thought about things.  I thought about how much I have changed in the past year and how miserable and unrecognizable I was to even myself.  By the time he got back I had cooled off enough to start the conversation again.  I apologized for acting crazy and told him that I really didn't like myself right now and so I would understand if he didn't like me either.  As I heard the words come out of my mouth, the honest truth, I started crying.  There I was sobbing in the middle of the crowded beach with who knows how many people staring at me.  What a train wreck.  I couldn't help it.  The tears just kept coming.  I told him having a baby is the ONLY thing that I think about and I would love to stop and just start living my life like I had before.  I told him that I wished we could go back a year when TTC was exciting and new.  I told him I missed running and that I wanted my life back. 

Somehow we approached the topic of next steps with everything because I was was basically dumping my brain of all of the TTC clutter amidst the tears.  I told him that I worried what we would do if the Femara didn't work.  He said he worried that my anxiety about next steps was fueled by the fact that he didn't want to do IVF.  He said he thought that this was what I wanted now, if he would comply.

The truth is, I do worry that if these less invasive treatment methods don't work that we will be that unhappy childless couple.  Do I personally want to do IVF?  No.  I really don't want to put myself through the medications, the shots, the countless blood draws, the ultrasounds, and the doctor's appointments.  If the doctor told me that was our last resort would I do it?  Maybe.  I don't know.  How long will we go on like this though?  How long can I stay on Femara?  Will we try IUI (I don't think he is 100% opposed to that)?  Will we just go off all meds, cross our fingers, and hope for the best?  I mentioned to him that these are the thoughts that are constantly running circles in my brain.

We ended up agreeing to see at least one more Femara cycle (with monitoring from my RE).  After that we are most likely going to take a break from the meds for at least 1 or 2 cycles.  We also agreed that much of our stress is due to the fact that we have not taken a vacation together since Europe last April (before all the TTC madness started).  We decided to be irresponsible (because we still can be) and take Friday off work and head to Florida for a nice little unplanned getaway.  True, I will be missing one of my group therapy sessions, a day of work when I am so busy, and the girls night out with the "band-aid" friend, but I think that we both need this (ok, you got me, I am not sad about missing the girls night).  Just the two of us. 

So now I just have to get through this week.  I decided to come in to work today and attend my acupuncture appointment.  My husband was right, I think I do need to continue this at least for a little while longer.  I think I just got down last month when I thought about the $225 spent on acupuncture treatments that did not end up getting me pregnant.  I am so thankful for my husband, though.  Even though we have arguments that sometimes get rather ugly, we always talk them out and move forward. 

More deep breaths... 

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Tomorrow will mark 1 full year of TTC for my husband and I.  This is not an anniversary that I ever thought I would have to endure.  July 9, 2011 marked the beginning of the cycle that I would conceive for the first time.  It has been a little over a year that I saw this beautiful BFP.

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I have been thinking about this a lot lately...things that I have lost as a result of my recurrent miscarriages.  This whole chapter of my life has changed me so much and I am not sure that I will ever go back to being the girl that I was before all of this.  Here are a few items on my casualty list.  I am sure  that I have missed things and that I will be adding to this list indefinitely.

1.  Friends.  Before my miscarriages I didn't have a problem when friends got pregnant.  Since I wasn't trying, I still had the possibility that whenever we started trying we would be pregnant.  One of my best friends from college's wife had a baby back in the fall.  I have not yet seen their baby.  He doesn't know about my troubles, nor has he asked. He sends me emails every now and again telling me how wonderful his son is and how much he loves his "perfect little family".  It is enough to make we want to punch the wall and scream and cry.  I cannot bring myself to go see them.  Another friend had her baby back in March (she was due a month before my 1st EDD).  I have also not seen her baby yet.  I just don't have the strength.  She also knows about my first miscarriage, but never really made any effort to check in with me to see how I was holding up.  I feel like I can't relate to people who have gotten pregnant easily (friend from college's wife) or by accident (other friend).  It makes me so angry when I think about it.  They are probably both mad that I haven't shown the slightest bit of interest in their kids.  I may never really be friends with either of them again because they just don't get it.  Cue my psychologist appointment on Monday...

2.  Sleeping in.  Before my first 2 miscarriages I was not temping or even using OPKs.  Now I get up every morning at 4:30 AM (even on the weekends) to take my temperature.  Even on the weekends.  I sometimes fall back to sleep on Saturdays/Sundays, but oftentimes I just lay there in bed thinking about how unfair everything is.

3.  Being excited about pregnancy.  I don't feel like I will even be able to be excited about being pregnant after 3 consecutive miscarriages.  Seeing a BFP means anxiously waiting for beta results and thinking the worst at every ultrasound.  Oh how I wish I could just be happy when getting a BFP.  Happy thinking about the possibilities and happy about the future.

4.  My "pre-pregnancies body".  Man I used to be in such great shape.  Looking at pictures of me from before getting pregnant and I am jealous of my own self!  I am not overweight by any means (119 lbs), but I used to be very athletic looking and toned.  Now I have lost most of that and just look blah.

5.  My self-esteem.  I used to have have faith that anything I put my mind to I would be able to accomplish.  That was a great source of my self-esteem.  Now it seems that I can't accomplish this one thing that every woman is supposed to be able to do, naturally.  I am a perfectionist by nature and it absolutely kills me that I can't make this happen.  I feel like less of a woman because of it.

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