I feel like my blog is smack in the middle of an identity crisis, or maybe I am.  The reason that I started it was to chronicle my path through the scary jungle of repeated loss.  I was in a pretty dark place in April of 2012 and needed an outlet for my emotions, fears, and anxieties.  I wanted to connect with and potentially help others that were in similar spots.  I think this blog has served its purpose and then some, but right now I feel like I am in no man's land in both blog and in real life.

Over the past several months, my blog has switched from a loss blog, to a TTC after loss blog, to a pregnancy after loss blog, to a parenting after loss blog.  This has happened organically and frankly without my noticing until recently.  My blog has taken on a whole new identity and I am caught somewhere in the middle.

For so long trying to have a baby was the number one thing in my life.  It came above all else, including my husband and me.  My life revolved around temperature taking, analyzing cervical mucous, and ovulation and pregnancy testing.  Once I was pregnant it revolved around pregnancy symptoms, doctors appointments, ultrasounds, and gestational diabetes.  Now my life revolves around my son.  I guess that was just the organic evolution of things, but I do feel like a major part of my identity is gone and even though I don't have a ton of free time right now, I still feel like part of me has gone missing.

Many times, I still wake up in the morning and am in complete awe of the fact that I have a baby.  I am now so deeply entrenched in all things baby.  I complain about baby related things...irregular sleeping patterns, breastfeeding issues, blowouts...  I relate to people with babies and children.  I pretty much only associate with people who have babies and children.  I am becoming one of those people that I despised when I was having trouble carrying a pregnancy and I am not feeling good about it.

I belong to a support group in FB of girls that all lost babies that were due in April, 2012.  One of those girls recently posted that she was feeling quite sad about the anniversary of the date when she found out two years ago that she was losing her baby.  It made me stop and pause because I could no longer remember the anniversary of the date that I found out about my impending pregnancy loss.  It upset me.  I used to keep close tabs on all of the dates of my losses and I feel like I have pushed them all to the back of my consciousness.  I don't think about those babies like I once used to.  I don't dream about them.  I don't cry about them.  I rarely even think about them because I am quite preoccupied with the one that made it.  It makes me want to cry as I am typing this.

Yesterday I decided to visit Fertility Friend, which has been a favorite site of mine for several years, and used to be a daily habit.  Since I haven't gotten my period yet and we are not planning on trying for another baby for quite some time, I realized that I really didn't fit in on any of the boards.  The TTC boards are for people who are actively trying to get pregnant or at the least tracking their cycles.  The Pregnancy boards are (obviously) for people who are pregnant or just gave birth.  My VIP membership runs out in 34 days.  My first thought was to renew it, but then I remembered that I really have no use for it right now.  That made me sad, too.  One day I'll probably go back to trying to have a baby and all that goes along with that, but right now, thankfully, I am in a different place and I don't need it.

In trying to move forward with my life, I decided that rather than close down the blog all together, that I am going to try a new and fresh look.  I know I have changed and my blog has changed, too.  I need to keep the blog in-sync with my life if I want to continue it. So stay tuned.  One day in the near future, you might not recognize the look of my little space on the Internet anymore.  Hopefully you'll still recognize me though.  I'm still the same girl as I was when I started the blog, I just have my precious baby now.

On Sunday night, my husband I and decided to get the babe ready for bed early so that we could go out to dinner at a new restaurant near our house.  We have done it several times before, get him ready for bed, snuggle him up in his bucket seat, drive around for a half hour and then have a peaceful and romantic dinner while B sleeps angelically.

This particular Sunday's routine was no different than usual.  As soon as my husband hit the gas, B was out cold.  We drove around for another twenty minutes for good measure.  We got lucky with an awesome parking spot and thought that the stars were aligning perfectly for our evening on the town as a threesome.  Haha.  Nice try, silly newbie parents, nice try.

The restaurant was pretty posh with a really cool looking circular bar in the center that was illuminated beautifully.  Just made me want to have a nice expensive glass of wine.  I had fed B about an hour before we left so I figured that I'd be good to have 1 glass before the next feeding.  Haha.  Riiiight.

Not 5 minutes after we were seated, the little angel babe decided he had enough of dreamland and woke up.  His eyes were wide open.  At first he kind of just looked around, but my husband and I knew better than to think he'd be content sucking on his pacifier while being entertained by the 7:30 PM trendy drinking crowd.  He soon started to fuss, then cry, then full-out wail.  My husbands attempts to rock the bucket did nothing.

The waitress came over to get our drink order.  I ordered a nice Cabernet and my husband ordered a beer.  Turns out my husband and I looked younger than our mid-thirty year old selves because we both got carded and oops my husband forgot his ID in the car.  The waitress insisted that she had to check his ID before serving him so he decided to go back to the car and take the baby to see if he might fall asleep on the walk.

Ten minutes later my husband came back in a huff.  Baby was still crying.  He was pissed.  I had already sipped my wine.  He sarcastically told me to enjoy it, and without giving me any time to ask what he was doing, promptly left with the screaming baby.

So there I was in the middle of the crowded restaurant, drinking a glass of Cabernet alone.  I took a sip of my glass of wine.  I had no idea what was going on so I called him.  He told me to order food to go for both of us and call him when it was done.  He said he'd be driving around until B fell asleep and would pick me up.  He told me to enjoy my glass of wine.

So yeah that's what I sort of did.  For the first time, I think ever, I sat at a restaurant table and drank by myself.  Normally I would have felt very uncomfortable about this new found situation, but this time, I found it actually quite nice to be alone.  I savored the wine and the peace.

I figured that I didn't have much time while the food was prepared so I pretty much slammed down the glass of wine.  By the time the food came, I was a little tipsy.  I called my husband and told him to pick me up.  He yelled over the crying baby that he'd be there in 2 minutes and to walk across the (busy) street to wait for him.  I jokingly said that I hoped that I wouldn't get hit by a car, knowing I was rather tipsy and in heels, and he hung up on me.  Nice.

B screamed all the way home.  My attempts to make him feel better by sitting in the back seat of the car did nothing.  He was, apparently, starving, and due to the fact that I had just chugged a glass of wine, I could not simply whip out a boob.  We dealt with the screaming until my husband put a bottle of breast milk in his mouth 20 minutes later.  

By the time we got the baby to sleep, the food was cold and neither of us felt like eating.  So much for a night of romance...  We are slowly but surely learning who the commander in chief of the family is these days and it most definitely isn't either of us.  

Several years ago, a friend of mine, R, called me crying one evening when she realized that her daughter (who was several months at the time) had fallen off of her bed and hit her head on the floor.  She had called the doctor and answered a battery of questions whereby they determined that she would most likely be ok, but told her to watch her closely.  I rushed over to give any type of moral support that I could, although at the time, I was really not much help because I didn't have any kids of my own and had never experienced anything like that before.

I listened to my friend tell me that in the split second where she made the decision to go to another room, the baby just rolled right off.  She felt terrible.  She was worried about whether or not her daughter would be ok and was trying to pay close attention for any "out of ordinary" types of behaviors.  You would have think that I would have taken that experience and filed it in the mommy category of my brain for later use, right?  I guess there is only so much room up there for that type of info...

Over the past few weeks, I have not slept much.  B has been teething like crazy and pretty much has not slept at all (naps or nights).  This has caused me to go into a state of survival mode.  I am basically just crawling through each day and praying every morning that this coming night will be the night where he sleeps more than 3 hours, consecutively.  I have huge dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer will cover.

Yesterday when I got home from work, B was especially fussy.  It was about 85 degrees and humid in the house and feeding him was pretty miserable so we decided to go around the house and close all the windows so that we could turn on the AC.  After that I propped B up with some pillows in the corner of the couch and proceed to turn on the weather to see if the rest of the week would be so sticky.  B kept sliding down and I kept placing him back in the corner.  I ended up missing the future forecast so I grabbed the remote and proceeded to rewind to play it again.  In the few seconds that I was turned away, my baby managed to roll over at least twice and fell off the couch onto the floor.  I didn't even see him fall off it was that fast.  I just saw him lying on his side on the floor and heard him screaming.

In that moment, I was so shocked at what happened I didn't even cry right then.  I picked him up off the floor and hugged him so close, trying to console him.  He screamed and screamed with huge tears running down his face.  My poor baby.  How could I have been so stupid and careless?  I worked so hard to have him and I could be such an idiot to not be paying attention to him, the love and light of my life.

I first called my husband who let me know he was on his way home from Home Depot.  I tried calling my sister, who was at the gym with the car, but she didn't answer.  Then I called my friend R and asked her if she thought I should bring him to the ER (which would have been by ambulance because I didn't have a car at the moment).  She instructed me to call the pediatrician (who happens to be the same as B's) and answer their questions.

It seemed like an eternity before a nurse called me back.  B had already quit crying, had a massive poopy diaper, and was now giggling like nothing had even happened.  I had already taken him into the dark bathroom and made him follow a flashlight and made sure his eyes were dilating properly, which they were, thankfully.  She asked me the following questions (which may come in handy for you one day if you even have a momentary space cadet moment like me):

Did he cry immediately following the accident?  Yes.  He screamed bloody murder for 10 minutes until he was red in the face with tons of tears.

How high up was the couch?  Two feet or less from the floor.

What is the surface of the floor like?  Where he fell it is partial shaggy rug and partial wood floor.  He didn't make a loud noise when he fell either.

Does he have any visible lumps or red marks on his head?  His head is generally lumpy (like his Dad's haha), but nothing new that I felt.  No red marks on his head that I saw.

Did he vomit?  Not sure.  He spit up all over my dress while I was consoling him, but I am not sure how to tell the difference between vomiting and spitting up.  He had just eaten before he fell and has acid reflux, so this wasn't abnormal for him.

Was he grabbing toys like usual?  Yes.  He was grabbing toys, the spit up cloth, my hair...

What was his routine for the rest of the night?  Bath at 6:30 PM.  Dress, sleep sack, book, nurse.  Bed by 7:15 PM (hopefully).

What times does he usually wake up at night?  12 AM & 3 AM almost always (if not more).

She told me this...  Chances are that he was totally fine.  She said that babies his age are very resilient and that it probably hurt me more mentally than it hurt him physically.  That said, she told me to take him to the ER if I noticed any of the following:

• He seemed sleepier than normal, for example, during his bath if it was hard to keep him awake.
• He seemed fussier than normal.
• He started vomiting.
• We wasn't hungry and wouldn't nurse like normal.

**PAIL Monthly Theme: "Feeding your child" - I am finally participating in my first (and hopefully not last) PAIL monthly writing prompt post!  This topic was selected because it is National Breastfeeding Awareness Month.  Enjoy!**

Before I had B, I remember thinking about how much I wanted to breastfeed, but how scared I was to do it.  I signed up for classes, consulted friends and family, and G.oogled like crazy.  I was very worried that I wouldn't have enough of a supply for my little man.  I spent a decent amount of time obsessing over this.  In the back of my mind I worried about things like the pain and pumping at work, but honestly the forefront of my nervousness was centered around supply.  Maybe I figured that since I had such a tough time with keeping pregnancies and being pregnant that this would be one more thing I would struggle with.  Little did I know what completely different types of breast feeding challenges that would lie ahead of me...

Like any other responsible mother, I had a birth plan.  I was adamant about sticking to that birth plan.  I printed out 20 copies of that freaking plan and distributed them to any and everyone on the hospital staff that would take one.  Amongst major plan points such as no epidural until I was screaming in pain, no pacifier for the baby to avoid nipple confusion, baby rooming with us 100% of the time so that we could bond, etc., was my insistence on having the baby breastfeed as soon as possible following his birth.  Oh and my greatest wish of all was nothing but breast milk for my baby.  PERIOD.  Everything that I had read warned of the "dangers" of introducing formula instead of or before breast milk.   My baby might not bond with me or he might grow horns or something.  Of course I would be the mom to let my baby lay on my chest following a picture perfect birth and let him leisurely find his way to one of my nipples as nature intended.  Then a silly thing called Murphy's Law came to fruition and I may as well have set that stupid birth plan on fire.

My unplanned c-section was a huge factor in me not following 95% of my birth plan.  Following my complicated surgery, I remember few things about those first hours of breastfeeding.  I remember shaking uncontrollably and struggling to keep my eyes open whilst my delivery nurse tried to shove my baby on my boob, try to make him latch, and explain to me how to breastfeed.  I couldn't even comprehend what was going on.  I was exhausted from a nearly 40 hour labor and 3 hours of pushing followed by the c-section.  The last thing I felt like doing was trying to get the hang of breastfeeding.  I wanted to be asleep.  Birth plan?  What birth plan?  Good night.

No one really prepares you for what to expect in those early days of breastfeeding.  Throw a c-section in the mix and you're screwed.  Add a raging case of PUPPPs and 2 blood transfusions and you're royally (pardon my French) F*CKED.  My hospital room became a revolving door for doctor's, nurses, lactation consultants, friends, and family trying to "help" me breastfeed.  During those first few days I found out that I had extremely small nipples, that milk doesn't come in as fast when you have a c-section, and that if your baby loses 10% of his body weight that they force formula on you.  Who knew?

Giving my son formula in the hospital made me feel awful.  Once again my body wasn't working right and I was going to forever change the optimal balance of bacteria in his little stomach with this "evil" concoction.  I cried as I pumped using the hospital's machine and saw only a few drops of colostrum fall into the cup after pumping for 30 minutes.  One of the nurses declared me an utter failure so I was determined to prove her wrong.  I pumped around the clock and had almost an ounce of colostrum saved up.  When I excitedly went to show my husband what I had done, I tripped and dropped the whole thing on the floor.  Don't cry over spilt milk?  Ummm I don't think that applies to colostrum.  I sobbed for several hours as the nurses and lactation consultants hooked me up with the SNS system and I watched my starving baby guzzle the formula.  F.A.I.L.

I thought that was as difficult as things would get with regards to breastfeeding.  My milk would eventually come in, my baby would get the hang of it, and we would all live happily ever after.  In a perfect world, this is what things might look like.  In reality, my milk came in with an evil vengeance.  My boobs felt like 2 hot rocks and my nipples were bloody with gross scabs.  I leaked (or rather sprayed) every time I took off my shirt.  I dreaded every 1.5 hours because it meant my barracuda baby would have to latch.  I tried the lanolin and gel pads, but thank God for nipple shields or I may have quit.  Thank God my mom was there to listen to me sob on the phone in pain.  She assured me it would get better...eventually.

To help boost the supply I thought might be low, I ate oatmeal every morning, I added brewer's yeast to everything, I chugged Mother's Milk tea, and made batches and batches of lactation cookies.  I even attended a weekly breastfeeding support group!  I would not let my baby and I become victims of a low supply.  No way!

It was around a month after my son's birth when I noticed him spitting up a ton around the clock.  He would choke on my milk when he was drinking and would writhe and wiggle with pain after each feeding.  I was lucky to keep him eating for more than 5 minutes on each side.  His poops were bordering on mucousy green.  The lactation consultant dubbed him a "BK drive-thru baby" and told me that I had an overactive letdown and (gasp) a potential over supply. She told me to stop the oatmeal, lactation cookies, and tea.  The pediatrician told me that it was either acid reflux or some type of an intolerance to what I was eating.  She told me to stop eating dairy, soy, wheat, eggs, and peanuts and to give the baby Zantac.  Oh, no problem!  Now I am that pain-in-the-ass person who has to look at the special menu or needs to lie about being allergic to soybeans because I am sure Johnny Server really doesn't want to get into a discussion about how what I eat affects my milk.  The kicker with all of this is that my baby still spit up a ton (poor kid lives in his multi-colored BRU terry cloth bibs) and still cried after he ate on many occasions.  So much for those solutions to the problem!

Breastfeeding in public is an art that I haven't been able to fully master.  Trying to position a squirming and crying baby on a boob under a hot cover-up is like trying to thread a needle in a low-light sauna.  Not comfortable and not easy.  Dealing with people staring at me makes me more angry than self-conscious.  Yes, I have boobs.  Yes, one of them is out of my shirt.  Yes, my baby is sucking on one of my boobs.  Take your stupid stare elsewhere and let me feed my hungry baby in peace!  Sheesh!

I came to find out that three month maternity leave goes by so very quickly and wasn't the 3 month vacation from work that I had imagined.  I blinked and I was back in the office.  Unlike coming back after a 3 month vacation, nice and rested, I was exhausted and loopy.  I soon learned that I had to fight with the daytime nappers to use the lactation, or "quiet" room, as my company calls it. Pumping every 3 hours during the day at work is tough.  Lugging the bag full of milk home from work is even tougher.  Cleaning all of the pump parts 3-4 times a day is a huge P.I.T.A.  For the first time, I realized that I missed nursing my baby.  I missed the comfort of looking at him happily sucking away and hearing him gulp.  I missed him lovingly rubbing my belly and pulling off to look at me with milk running down his smiley face.  I missed breastfeeding my baby.  

The truth is, my relationship with breastfeeding has been rocky.  It started out rough and then got rougher.  Through it all, I have learned this, nothing ever goes as planned, so put that silly birth plan in the circular file.  You need to learn to be flexible, adaptable, easy-going.  Just like any other skill, breastfeeding takes time to develop.  All of the planning, research, and classes in the world are not going to prepare you for your breastfeeding journey.

So if you are planning on breastfeeding your baby (high five if you are after reading this post :-), my one piece of advice to you would be to NOT listen to those people who claim that breastfeeding is a natural thing that just happens as soon as the baby is born.  Breastfeeding is hard and hurts and in the early days it just plain sucks.  Sometimes you need to supplement with formula.  Sometimes you need to switch from the breast to formula completely.  It's all ok.  You do what you gotta do to keep your baby healthy and growing.  Some of the smartest kids I know were straight formula fed.  I am happy that breastfeeding is finally working for me, but it may not be working for you, and that is ok.

If you are still breastfeeding than I am sure you can relate to some or all of this post.  There are ups and downs, but once you finally get into a groove it really does become second nature and possibly even an enjoyable way to connect with your baby.  Personally speaking, I am glad that I have stuck with it for (gasp) the past 4 months.  I hope to be able to continue until it makes sense for me to stop.         

I can't believe that I just got back from taking my little one to his 4 month appointment today.  He weighs a whopping 17 lbs even and is 25.25 inches long.  He is in the 80th and 56th percentiles (respectively).  I have a chubby baby!

The doctor was very pleased with his growth.  This little over-achiever already has his first tooth coming through on the bottom right.  He has rolled over from front to back, three times.  He can sit in his exersaucer with a pillow under his feet.  He is doing really well.  The only not so great part about our visit today was the 4 vaccines that he had to get.  It is the saddest thing to see your baby kicking and smiling joyfully and then screaming in terror as they are stuck in the leg with the needle.  Ugh it is the worst.

Tomorrow is B's appointment at the Children's Hospital for his acid reflux.  We will finally figure out (or start down the road to finding out) if this is what he has or if it really is a MSPI (milk/soy protein intolerance).  I am hopeful that there is nothing wrong with him at all and he just spits more than the average baby.  I would love to enjoy a slice of pizza again.  :-)

I have two appointments with daycare centers coming up.  One is this coming Friday, near our house.  The other is next Wednesday near my work.  It will be quite interesting to see these places and hear about how expensive they are.

As for me, 4 months post baby and I am happy to post that my diastasis recti is back down to normal levels.  I have gone from a more than 4 finger separation to tight 2 finger separation.  My physical therapist was quite impressed with my progress and she sent me on my merry way with a packet full of exercises that I can continue to do in the coming months (and a whole set of pregnancy ones if I end up pregnant again someday).  She also cleared me for crunches and yoga.  I am sooooo excited to start yoga again!  In an upcoming post, I am going to document the exercises that I did so I can help people who are looking for advice on this topic.  I had trouble finding anything that wasn't a gimmick or that I didn't have to pay for a few months back.

I am also pleased to say that I am down to 125 lbs and I fit into a pair of my pre-pregnancy jeans this last weekend!  I was happily shocked.  The jeans were definitely big on me pre-pregnancy and they are just fitting now, but hey, I'll take it.

Last week I was able to run 5 days out of 7.  Granted they were not fast runs and they were not especially long runs, but I was able to do it and work and take care of B.  I am hoping to keep up with at least 3-4 days a week and walks on other days.  B loves going with me.  I think he is going to be my new favorite running buddy!  :-)

This past weekend was one of the most social that I have had yet.  I feel like I am finally getting back to a semblance of my old self and am getting the hang of this working mommy thing.  Friday night I left baby with Daddy and attended my sister's birthday party.  Even though I was the first one to leave the party, I was out until almost midnight.  Late night for me!  Be was great for Daddy, too.  He slept the whole time I was gone.  Saturday, my husband and I went to a BBQ with B.  Three other babies that were the same age as B were there.  It was a riot.  Sunday, I went to the local farmer's market, got coffee and took a stroller walk with my sister and B, and then met up with a few families at the beach.

It took me 4 months (and 2 years) to get here, but I am content, finally.  Life is good.  I didn't think I would ever get the chance to feel this way.  I am so very thankful.    

**WARNING - POTENTIALLY CONTROVERSIAL RANT BELOW**

I am very lucky to have my sister nanny for B right now.  As a child, I never went to daycare or even preschool so I have no real experience with it.  My mom stayed home with us.  You might think that I missed out on social interaction with other kids my age and didn't get enough mental stimulation.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I was the oldest of seven kids so starting at age 17 months, I always had at least 1 playmate.  My mom also had a very close knit group of 7 friends who also had children that were around the same age as me and my siblings so we had regular play dates.  I never felt like I missed out on anything.  I was always appreciative of my mom that she stayed home with my brothers, sisters, and I.

Fast forward back to now.  Unfortunately, I can't stay at home with my baby boy.  Mommy and Daddy have to go to work to be able to pay the mortgage and to be able to afford to buy food.  I would love nothing more than to stay home with him, but it just isn't in the cards for us.

My sister is doing an awesome job with B!  She plays with him, takes him for stroller walks, and brings him to music class every week.  The little over-achiever even rolled over twice yesterday from front to back and is threatening back to front on a daily basis.  The problem is that my sister is not going to want to nanny forever.  She wants to go back to school to get her masters and to wants to ultimately end up with a teaching job.  This means that eventually little B will have to go to daycare.  I am dreading this for many reasons.

The costs of childcare in my area, and probably in most areas around the country, is crazy high.  I have inquired into a few centers near my house and they all have extremely high rates and very long waiting lists.  What is annoying to me, is that my husband and I both work full time jobs.  We work very hard, pulling in many extra hours a week as salaried employees.  I went to college and he did not.  We both make around the same salary (don't get me started on that one), which when combined, is enough for a comfortable existence.  We can pay our bills, we own a house, and we can afford to go on a simple vacation every year.  Where I live, if you are on welfare, you can get free or very low cost childcare at the same places that I would have to pay big bucks at AND you child does not have to wait on a waiting list.  They can skip the line and get right in.  How is that fair?

Like many of my good friends, my husband and I decided to have a child when knew we could afford the child.  We may have even waited so long that it cost us fertility issues, but that is a different story.  My friends and I work hard to pay for the things that we have.  Others around me get pregnant and then get pregnant again and again and cannot even afford the first child that they had.  They then get free child care as a reward.  I work my tail off (and I paid for college myself) and both my child and I get screwed.  I'll basically have to send my son wherever I can get in, even if it is not my first second or third choice because I have a job and make a decent living.  It makes my blood boil.

Oh and if we should be lucky enough to have a second child, the costs go up from there.  The second child would need to be in daycare from the time he/she turned 3 months old.  Half of either my husbands or my salary would go towards childcare costs.  It is sad and it sucks.  Long gone are the days where one salary is enough to support a family of 4.  I am not sure how my Dad was able to work to support 7 children.  We didn't get everything we wanted, but I never felt deprived.  We rarely went out to dinner, but I never went hungry.  I never flew to Disneyland, but we traveled in our van on a family vacation somewhere every year and we always had a great time.

I had a conversation with my neighbor who has two young girls.  She stayed home to watch them or had someone come to the house to watch them while she worked part time.  When it came time for her to send her kids to daycare/preschool, she found herself in a pickle because of waiting lists and the crazy application process that you would think was for an ivy league private education.  Because her girls had not gone to a center for formal daycare and were not on any government assistance programs, they were pushed to the bottom of the list.  The girls are bilingual and they could not get in anywhere.  Oh and I don't even want to think about the costs which my neighbor mentioned cost more than my public college education.

Then there is the option of home daycare.  I have some friends who are going to be sending their children to home daycares in the area.  The problem with that, for me anyways, is that they are not regulated by the state and this they do not have to abide by any specific rules.  I have heard horror stories from home daycare situations.  I don't think I would be able to concentrate at work, not knowing exactly what kind of care my child was getting.

Right now I feel quite trapped and overwhelmed.  I know I need to get on some waiting lists and take some tours of daycare centers.  I am trying to set all of this up while working my full-time job and taking care of B at night.  I am worried that I may have waited too long to start this process.  The problem was that I was too worried that I would jinx my miracle baby if I started looking at daycare centers when I was pregnant or even when he was a newborn.  Now we are screwed in a major way.

I have sought advice from several mothers groups and my friends and they have offered some advice.  I still feel like I am wandering around in the dark though, holding my baby close and dreading the day I have to leave him with people that I don't know, at a center that isn't close to my house, at a place that I was lucky to get into at all, and paying half of my salary to do it.  It is enough to make me sick to my stomach. 

You may be wondering what the heck dyspareunia is.  Sounds like a really bad disease.  Luckily it is just a fancy word for painful intercourse, something that I have unfortunately become a victim of.  I made a return to my old GYN this morning.  It was weird going to the place where I last went 2 years ago to have a D&C on such different terms.  Sitting in the waiting room amongst many preggos and babies, I finally felt at peace.  No anger, no sadness, no frustration.  I even made friends with the cutest 15 month old baby.

I definitely confused the heck out the medical staff with my current situation.  The last time I saw them was in December of 2011.  I had my second miscarriage and was there for a follow-up where the doctor proceeded to tell me that there was nothing wrong with me and to keep trying.  Well, thanks to the fact that I have a PPO, I made the decision to see a RE on my own and did not tell them.  One miscarriage, several months of fertility treatment, a pregnancy, and a c-section later, I was back.  Because their medical system is not on the same system as the RE/OB that I was seeing, I had to hash out the long and painful story of the last year and a half in medical terms, twice (once to the nurse and once to the doctor).

I thought I would get a lecture about how I should not have taken matters into my own hands, but the nurse didn't really care and the doctor was really nice and understanding.  He spent a lot of time trying to understand what I had gone through.  I think we talked for at least 20 minutes about everything.

He took a look at my incision and said it looked fine.  He commented on how low it was but made the inference that, based on the situation with B getting stuck in my pelvis, was the reason.  Next I had the lovely metal speculum inserted (OUCH!) so that they could do a culture to make sure I did not have some type of infection.  After that was the lovely internal exam.  He did a few tests to see where I felt the pain.  It ended up being at the back of my vag/perineum area where I whelped in pain.  He felt around my uterus and cervix to feel for adhesions or obvious scar tissue sticking out, but he found nothing, which was good.  I also had no pain associated with that part of the exam, which he said was good.

Based on the exam he made the assumption that my issue is muscle tension from lack of use (haha) and now mental association causing the muscles to tense even more after having had one painful experience.  Basically, now I am expecting it to hurt so I am not enjoying it and not relaxing the muscles.  He also said that the mini-pill and breastfeeding will kill your desire along with exhaustion.  He mentioned that it was a myth that all women are "ready" for sex again 6 weeks postpartum.  He said it usually takes much longer.  Even after making this "diagnosis" he decided that he still wants me to have an ultrasound on 8/30 to make sure I don't have anything else going on that he can't feel.  Basically, because of my 2 D&Cs and c-section my uterus could have some scarring that would be better found now rather than later when I want to try to get pregnant again.  Fine by me.

So I guess the good news is that there doesn't appear to be anything seriously wrong with me.  I guess I'll find out for sure in a few weeks.  The doctor told me to use lots of lube (duh) and to work at it slowly when I am not stressed out.  Haha.  I am always stressed about something!