Bump update: Weeks 13-16

I promised myself I wouldn't slack when it came to documenting this pregnancy.  Despite feeling disconnected from writing lately {due in large part to ridiculous headaches I've been having} I've still kept up with my weekly bump pics and updates.  Finally getting around to posting them here.

Letting the World Know

Most of my immediate family and close friends know I'm pregnant again.  The ones who know our struggles with infertility and loss.  The ones who have been our biggest cheerleaders and greatest supporters. 

I wasn't sure how I felt about doing a big Facebook reveal to let every other Tom, Dick, and Harry know, but ultimately I decided I definitely wanted to share this exciting time with friends and extended family.  Facebook is good for mass sharing.  I'm sure you've heard.

When I was pregnant with Elena I don't think I posted one belly shot.  In fact, I know I didn't.  Maybe a tagged photo from my baby shower made it on my timeline. I never updated my status with how many times I peed the night before or to share the current state of my vulvar varicosity.  I dare you to google that one.  I am not one to complain in general, but I never would even dream of posting my pregnancy woes for others to eye roll.  'Cause that's what I do if you FB complain.  Especially about pregnancy.  I'm aware that I'm hypersensitive because all that I've gone through.  Even still, my threshold for public complaining on FB is very, very low.  We've all got problems.  And I guarantee someone is begging for yours.  I digress.

I actually felt bad posting about my pregnancy with Elena.  Felt bad because several close and dear friends, whom I knew would see my updates, were struggling with loss, infertility, adoption difficulties and the like.  I knew how it crushed my heart just a little bit each time I saw someone post SURPRISE! We're PREGNANT.  I hated being that girl.  But sometimes I was. 

After I had Elena, I realized I had been a little bit foolish in my thinking.  Sparing others feelings, while considerate of me, I suppose, sort of took away from my own glorious hallelujah I'm the freaking one that's finally pregnant moments.  I have always had a tendency to put others' feelings before my own.  This case was no exception.  Not that I would ever be one to gloat or attention whore myself to the point you'd want to block my updates {jeez, I hope that's not me}.

In any case, I decided this time?  This time I'm sharing it.  I'm making it Facebook official.  This exciting and miraculous time.  My first little miracle is becoming a big sister.  My body is carrying another babe.  I am doubly blessed.

If by chance, you are that girl, like I was, with a  hurting heart, I implore you....Don't let it break your spirit if your miracle hasn't happened yet.  Instead, let it serve to remind you to always believe and hope for what your heart desires.  Miracles DO happen.  My heart will be praying for *YOUR* miracle.

I did a photo shoot Monday in hopes of capturing a picture to use as our FB announcement.  My subject was less than cooperative for what I had in mind, but was adorable nonetheless doing her own thing.  Here are some of my favorite photos.  She kills me, this kid.

Winning shot.  Going live on Valentine's Day. 

Hopefully by the time her sister arrives, she'll have warmed up to the idea. 

Such a professional

Shirt

 

When you ask her, "Who's gonna be a big sister?" she points to herself like this and says "ME!"

My sunshine girl

ME!

Gender reveal + weeks 11 & 12

I'm a little behind and have some catching up to do.  Here are weeks 11 & 12.  Can't believe I'm kissing the first trimester goodbye.  I'm excited for the feel good high of trimester 2! Goodbye nausea, food aversions, and sloth tendencies. 

Aaaahhhh!  Yes, it is indeed a girl.  We are over the moon with excitement and couldn't be happier to be giving Elena a little sister.  I would've sworn up and down that this was a little boy.  I thought the same thing with Elena.  I have just felt so different this pregnancy.  I suppose it's just proof that every pregnancy is different, regardless of the sex.

The doctor called me last Monday (only a week after having the blood test) and gave us the wonderful news that all the chromosomal tests came back normal.  Feeling so blessed.  Paul was at the gym- I so wished he was home when I got the call, but he was home shortly after.  He guessed girl immediately....I'm sure it was written all over my face.  He was so, so excited.

Everybody asks, "Was Paul upset it wasn't a boy?"  Honestly?  He wasn't.  He "gets" girls now.  Being a girl Daddy.  He loves it and cherishes the special bond between a father and daughter.  He did have a look of "Oh Shit" in his eyes though, imagining 2 sweet sixteens, 2 weddings, 2 dance classes.  Good thing he is such a saver!

Giving Elena a sister is such a gift.  A built in bestie.   A confidant.  Someone to share clothes and secrets with.   I pray that they are close and that they will love each other fiercely.  That they will always be able to rely on one another and hold each other up in hard times.  That they will praise and celebrate one another in good times.  That they are always there for one another.  I cannot wait to watch them love and grow together.  This feels so right for our family.  My heart is full. 

10 weeks

I've been so happy to have had Paul home since last Wednesday.  Yes, you heard that right.  7 nights of him home.   We've been loving it up.  He leaves tomorrow but will be back Friday.  I'll take it. 

I haven't been loving the fact that I get hardly any face time with the computer when Paul's around.  He's a workaholic and uses our computer and his work laptop simultaneously when he's home.  Which means no computer for me.  Which means no blogging for me, either.  He has an iPad, but honestly?  Typing on that is not my idea of a good time.  Neither is blogging from my phone.  Oh, hell no.  There are talks of maybe getting me another Mac book so he can just have the old one all to himself.  Yay.  I like that idea. 

So, I'm behind.  But have lots to talk about in the coming days.  Starting with my10 week bump update.  Despite the fact that I'm 11.5 weeks.   I said I was behind.  I'll get the 11 week update on here before I hit the 12 week mark on Saturday.  Promise. 

Also....Also....I'll be doing the GENDER REVEAL this week, so stay tuned!  We got the results from our MaterniT21 test last night.  Weeeee!  So exciting!

Oh Hey, Thursday!

Well look at this....I'm actually blogging during Elena's nap instead of napping, too.  Probably the first time that has happened since we got back to Ohio.  ::pats self on back::

It's a good Thursday.  Lots of thankful thoughts and I just couldn't quiet my brain enough to sleep.  So, instead, I'll ramble write.

I had some serious bad dreams last night.  Legit, waking up sweating and taking a good minute or two to figure out where the hell I was kind of dreams.  Nothing scary, just really long, drawn out dreams.  One took place in the house I grew up in.  I was having a fight with my mother.  It was awful, out of character,  and made me cry when I woke up because I felt like I had this opportunity to spend time with my mom and I f'd it up by fighting with her.

One of the other dreams was about my OB appointment.  I left Elena at the office in the stroller and forgot to ask the doctor all the questions that I had prepared.  When I realized, the office was closed.  Typical night-before-meeting-a-doctor-for-the-first-time anxiety dream.  I have the craziest, most detailed dreams ever.  So real and terrifying.

Have I made it obvious that I was really nervous about my appointment today?  This was my first time meeting my new OB and that anxiety, coupled with the general fear of "What if..." that always accompanies any of my pregnancy appointments had me feeling extra pukey this morning.  And let's not forget my little partner in crime that I travel with.  You know that crazy, yet oh so loveable toddler I talk about around here?  No mincing words here.  Mama was skeeeered to death to bring her to the doctor by myself.  I knew it was gonna be a lengthy appointment with the regular intake stuff, consult with the doctor, internal exam/Pap, and ultrasound. 

If you could have seen all the crap that I had with me. Good Lord.  I looked like a homeless person pushing around a shopping cart containing my entire life, except I was pushing around a stroller.  I was armed with toys, the Netflix set up on the phone, and snacks up the yin-yang.   She had a few feisty moments but overall was a gem and stayed strapped in the stroller the entire time without protest.  I promised her I'd take her to Graeter's to play and have ice cream if she behaved.  What?  Don't judge. 

As for meeting the doctor?  LOVE.  LOVE.  LOVE.  I am so freaking excited/happy/overjoyed at the decision I made choosing her.  I mean, seriously?  I asked her if I was going to get an ultrasound picture and she giggled and said, "I love pictures! Of course!"  And she proceeded to give me 14.  FOURTEEN pictures of my little baby.  And I do not say baby loosely.  This little nugget *REALLY* looks like a baby now!  I'm talking fingers, people.  Baby #2 was waving.  With real little fingers.

Waving!

Umbilical cord on the left & fingers/hands on the right.  Amazing.

Everything looked great.  Heartbeat was 174 bpm, which, if you go by the old wives tale, means it's a girl.  BUT.  And this is a huge BUT, we thought we may have seen an appendage of sorts between the legs.  Yes, a penis.  A freaking PENIS!  She put a little arrow pointing to it and took a picture *just in case* Baby #2 really winds up being a boy, we could say we knew it at 10 weeks.  Ah-mazing.  I'm not going all snakes and snails and puppy dog tails *quite* yet, but it's still fun.

Potential boy parts???

Actually, I will probably know the gender for certain by the end of next week, which seems just crazy to me.  Especially since I didn't know Elena was a girl until 20 weeks.  Apparently because I'm special 35 and considered Advanced Maternal Age {say whaaaaat???} there is a new blood test they do that takes the place of the Ultra Screen that is typically done between 11-13 weeks to provide risk assessment for chromosomal abnormalities like Downs Syndrome and Trisomy 18.  A simple blood test that actually is able to test the fetal blood from my blood.  It also detects the presence of Y chromosomes.  So, along with greater accuracy of detetcting any genetic disorders, it tells you the gender of the baby.  It's called the MaterniT21 test.  And it's perfect for impatient people like me.  So excited.  I go Monday and the results take about a week to come in.  Holy 11 week gender reveal.

I've made all of my future OB appointments through the end of April.  They are all on Fridays, which hopefully means no more anxiety ridden dreams from fear of bringing the toddler with me alone, since Paul is usually home on Fridays.  

I'm incredibly thankful today.  As I am most days, but especially today.  I tend to imagine the worst in between appointments, so there is nothing more gratifying than seeing that there really is this precious little miracle growing in my belly.  God is good.  And Paul comes home today.  Another reason to be incredibly thankful.

And look at that....a post is done.  My child is still asleep.  You know what that means.  I can probably squeeze in a little cat nap :)

A good day, indeed.  Happy Thursday, friends. 

Having some pancakes in the waiting room. She does not look impressed.

9 weeks

So I intended to post this on Saturday when I was actually 9 weeks but it obviously didn't happen.  In fact, it's pretty much a miracle that it's even happening now, considering my getting-things-done-o-meter is still on empty.  But, documenting this pregnancy is important to me and keeping up with my blog is, as well, so I'm getting it done.  I've got the Bachelor on for motivation.  Nothing like a bunch of bikini clad crazies crying over beach volleyball to make you feel capable.

This week was pretty much the same as the last, with the exception that Elena and I actually left the house...which was great for our cabin fever.  I still have a cough, but overall we are both feeling so much better.  I find that if I get out and do something, breaking up the day a bit, we are both much happier.   I feel like a crappy, lazy Mom otherwise and  it's terrible.  I haven't been the best playmate for her lately so it was good to get her out of the house.  Must remember that when I feel like I have no energy to do a damn thing. 

My progesterone shots are my biggest complaint this week.  I am so grateful that I'm still taking them.  It means I'm pregnant and it's sustaining this growing life inside of me.  But for some reason, this time around, they are awful.  I can hardly walk and my lower back just sort of blends into my butt because the lumps are so big.  They don't hurt going in, it's the afterburn.  Like two dead legs but in your butt.  I've been having the nurse at my OB do them when Paul is away because I just couldn't do them myself any longer.  It's a huge waste of time but it's the only choice I've got at the moment.  My last shots are on February 2nd.  Holler.

Per the usual, I count down the days until Paul comes home.  He is such a big help when he's here.  Just someone else to play with Elena, change her diaper, fold laundry, take out the trash.  He really is a doer and doesn't stop the entire time he's home.  I'm very lucky.  I cried today when he left and I felt bad, knowing it's hard enough on him to leave us as it is.  But it's hard.  I hate goodbyes.

My belly feels a little bigger this week.  I haven't gained any weight but my pooch is sticking out a little bit more.  I can't wait until it looks like a cute baby belly and not just a spare tire sort of gut thingy.  I'm living in my leggings, yoga pants, and skinny jeans, which are nice and stretchy, so hopefully they fit a while longer.

Food is still unappealing when I think of it.  I miss craving and enjoying things like guacamole and coffee.  I've survived this week on a gross combo of veggie subs from Subway with lots of vinegar or Spagettio-o's.  With meatballs.  Cue vomiting.  I know.  This is coming from someone who was a vegetarian for 11 years and still is weird with meat. I also load it with parmeasan cheese.  Not sure but I think it makes me feel like it's less Honey Boo Boo more gourmet that way.   I've also been able to start eating ice cream this week.  High fives all around. Peanut Butter Panic, to be exact.  It's reaaaaaallll good.  Peanut butter and Jelly is still my friend, too, and I'm pretty sure mainlining OJ is in my future at the rate I'm drinking it. 

I'm excited to meet my new OB this week.  Have my first "real" appointment Thursday! 

Nursing a hangover from the Sunday Night Blues

The weekends are so hard to say goodbye to lately.

I remember as a kid, I'd get that sick feeling in my belly on Sunday night, knowing I had to wake up for school the next morning.  A whole week ahead of waking up early and nights filled with homework.  Once Monday was over and I was in the swing of things, that dreadful feeling disappeared and shelved itself.  At least until the following Sunday night.


As an adult, when I was working full time, it was no different.  After Paul and I would finish up our Sunday night shows, we'd look at each other and grimace--The Sunday Night Blues--time to saddle up for another week of work.  This sort of faded when Elena was born and I became a stay at home mom.  I wasn't worrying about deadlines, grading papers, bulletin boards, my students.  Sure I had other things to worry about, but not having to "clock in" somewhere definitely dialed down my Sunday night anxiety.

I have loved being able to be a stay at home mom.  It is something I never in a million years believed would be possible.  When Paul was offered this promotion---moving us 500+ miles from home---I told him I'd move anywhere to be able to stay home with my baby.  That was and still is the truth.

I love waking up to this sweet face everyday.  Even when I'm hating on a Monday. 

Welp, here I am.  Struggling with this Monday.  Nursing a hangover from the Sunday Night Blues.  They're sort of back.  I suppose it makes sense.  I've been in a state of constant exhaustion and sickness with this pregnancy and have just felt less that good in most aspects. I'm trying really hard not to complain, but this is my little space to be real and tell it like it is.  So to be frank, I feel like shit. 

Even though I may still feel like crap even over the weekend I have one saving grace.  His name is Paul.  Ah yes, my husband.  My husband who travels all week.  Every week.  Monday through Thursday.  So when the weekend rolls around and I know I have an extra set of hands?  Someone to share the load with?  Another adult to talk to?  I want to hold on to the weekend for dear life.  Weekends have become my salvation. Even though we aren't doing anything spectacular.  Just being together.  As a family.  That's what makes my heart feel whole.  So when Monday creeps up on me and I know I'll be left to my own devices as a tired, pukey Mama with a fiercely independent and stubborn little girl...those Sunday Night Blues rear their ugly head. 

I don't know how single moms do it.  I am essentially a single mom in some regard, right?  Monday through Thursday, at least.  And I'm "doing it" I guess, right?  My child is fed, bathed, and loved every day.  So yeah, I am doing it.  I mean, I suppose so, but it's still freaking hard.  Especially when I don't have the energy to be the Mom I want to be.  The Mom I should be for my daughter.  I know this feeling of queasy exhaustion will pass.  It will and this will seem silly.

But I don't want to wait for it to pass.  I want to stop wishing away the week just for the weekend, when I have all this precious time with my crazy toddler sweet little girl.  It's time to stop complaining and put on my big girl britches.  I decided to try and combat my Sunday Night Blues hangover by pushing through the exhaustion. This Monday, today,  I woke up before Elena, who slept until 9:00, bless her heart.  I showered, blow dried my hair, put on make-up, and even dressed in something other than yoga pants.  This is huge, people.  Huge.  I left the house with *both* of us ready at 10:00 and headed to a play date with my Meet Up group at a local Graeter's.

What a difference.  Do I still feel sick and tired?  Yup.  But, I don't feel so depressed about being sick and tired because I didn't just sit around feeling sick and tired.  Make sense?  It was great to be around other people.  Awesome to see some of the new friends I've made.  Fun for Elena to socialize for a change and burn off some energy.

I've realized that despite not wanting to do much of anything, it's necessary.  Even one outing a day.  So, I've committed to story time tomorrow at 10am, a Tumble Tots class Wednesday at 10:45, and a playdate with my playgroup Wednesday afternoon.  Thursday I'll focus on cooking and cleaning for Paul's return home and another great weekend with my family.

And how could Monday *not* be a day to look forward to now that The Bachelor is back??? 

I can't possibly be the only one who gets The Sunday Night blues, can I?  Make a girl feel better and tell me how you cope with them!

Two Pink Lines

God is good.
This happened yesterday.

Very, very early.
3dp5dt.
In infertility speak, that translates to 3 days past a 5 day transfer, or 8 days past ovulation for a normal baby making mama.
I tested + at 3dp5dt when I was pregnant with Elena, when all 3 embryos had implanted.
Makes me think that maybe Macaroni and Cheese both decided to snuggle in.
Or maybe one of them split.
Or maybe it's just one strong little babe.
In this moment though, I am pregnant.
And I cannot stop thanking God and praying for this pregnancy to be a healthy and strong one. 
I also cannot stop peeing on sticks.
And pulling the most recent test out of my pocket to stare at it and make sure that beautiful second pink line hasn't disappeared. 

I know most people wouldn't believe it's possible to actually experience symptoms so early, but when you are so hyper-aware of what is happening in your body, it is certainly possible. I know I love to stalk the Internet when I'm in the dreaded 2 week wait to analyze my symptoms or lack thereof.  So, I'm gonna share what's been going on since my transfer.

I also promised myself that I'd document this journey, whatever happened, for the sake of telling my story.  All of it.

1dp5dt Symptoms

Mild twinges and tightness in lower abdomen.

A few moments of mild cramps, almost indetectable.

Strange dreams.

2dp5dt Symptoms

Emotional and sad. Cried a good, hard cry.

Hungrier than normal.

Ate my favorite soup and got nauseous out of nowhere.  Ran upstairs and vomited.  Felt fine immediately after.  {I've never had morning sickness with either of my previous pregnancies}

3dp5dt Symptoms

 Took test around 11am- negative.

Another night of strange dreams.

Increasing stretching uterus feeling.

Heaviness in uterus.

Gut feeling I was pregnant.

2nd HPT 7pm-faint, faint positive.  OMG! 

4dp5dt Symptoms  

 No new symptoms.  No sore boobs.  No nausea.  

Peeing more than usual.

Uterus stretchy feeling.

Some mile crampy twinges.

     

    One constant symptom 

     Overwhelming gratitude.  

I have a more thoughtful post in my head on being pregnant again.  On this incredible blessing.  On giving my baby a sibling.  About sharing my mama love with another and the paralyzing fear that invokes.  My mind is full of things I want to share but I'll save them for another day.  

Goodnight, friends.  xoxo

Transfer day

Well folks, I am currently PUPO.  In the world on the infertile that stands for Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise.  

Yesterday was the day of my embryo transfer.  

Despite the daily injections and pill popping that I've been doing for weeks to ready my body, the day sort of arrived quicker than I was mentally or emotionally prepared for {I'll save that for a later post}. Physically, as my scans and labs proved, I was ripe and ready to incubate and hopefully grow a baby.  Or babies.  

If you're just joining me here, please feel free to read about how we make babies here.   

Originally, Paul wasn't supposed to be there for the transfer.  He's was in NYC at a big conference and would never have made it for the 12:30 transfer.   It wasn't until the morning of that Paul let me know he would be with me.  Holding my hand.  Watching our tiny embryos shoot like stars into my uterus.  He had been very upset prior, knowing he wouldn't be there.  It was really important to him.  As it was to me too.  Though I downplayed those feelings to spare him additional guilt.  But he made it work.  I am so grateful.  My best friend was supposed to be the pinch hitter, so she still came with us for support and love.  She is-plain and simple-the best. 

Minutes before heading back for the transfer.

As soon as we arrived we were taken back and told to change into the stunning napkins you see above. I took the Valium they gave me and was feeling good in no time.   I wasn't nervous for the procedure itself, but was on the edge of my seat awaiting the thaw report to see how our embryos survived coming out of cryopreservation.  There is always a possibility that they will arrest or be damaged. 

We have four frozen embryos from our last fresh IVF cycle that gave us Elena.  We are grateful that the two we decided to thaw survived and looked good.  They were graded 5BB and 5BC at the time of vitrification. 

Our embryos- Macaroni & Cheese.  Yes.  We name them.  We believe Elena was "Egg" from Taylor Ham, Egg, and Cheese from our last cycle. 

The procedure itself is quite simple.  You lay on a table with your legs in stirrups.  Always a fun time.  Then they insert the speculum.  Again, fun stuff.  The doctor preps your girly parts, making chit chat and laughing with your husband, of course.  You know, because he's the one staring up your vajingo.  Not your husband.  Not that my husband usually stares up there, but you know what I mean.  I hope.  Anyway, where was I...yes, this is when the nurse has the ultrasound wand on your belly so the doc can see your uterus. And they're telling you how thick and cushy it looks.  And you're all "Yay!" for your plush endometrial lining.  I was proud. 

There are a few others in the room and the mood is light and enjoyable, actually.  Dim lights.  Classical music.  Husband holding my hand.  And seriously, this doctor? This nurse?  The IVF coordinator?  They're all there and we're all friends at this point.  They have been with us since the beginning of this journey back in April 2008.  It really is a magical and surreal moment.

 Then the embryologist comes in to confirm who you are and brings the catheter containing both of the embryos and hands it to the doctor.  He guides it in to the perfect spot in my uterus and injects them.  And it's crazy because you can see them.  The little fluid bubbles that they are in or whatever, like little shooting stars.  One and Two.  Once the embryologist confirms under the microscope that the catheter is empty.  We are done and done. The nurse raises the bed so my legs are elevated and I get to rest there with my husband for the next 30 minutes or so.  

You're pregnant.  Those were my husband's first words to me when we were alone.  I believed him.  The power of positive thinking keeps me going. 

I imagine, that because my husband and I cannot ever procreate the way most people do, I try to find all the ways that make *our way* special.  And this moment, here?  This IS special.  To be able to actually see with your own eyes your children {yes, I believe at this point, they ARE my babies, whether they survive or not} being placed inside your uterus is, in a word, amazing.  Tears streaming down your face, husband-hand-squeezing amazing.  To know the exact moment that your embryos have entered your womb to hopefully make a home.  Awesome.

They recommend 24 hours of bed rest, which is laughable to me with an 18 month old.  But I did my best.  I was starving so we stopped at the diner on our way home to pick up my favorite tomato rice soup for lunch.  When we got back to my Aunt's, she was taking Elena for a walk so we were able to get a few bites before they came back.  

All that little girl wanted was her mama.  And honestly, I just wanted to hold her.  I let her sit in my lap and share my soup and then I retired to the couch.  I spent the rest of the afternoon between the couch and the floor playing with Elena and watching TV, not really resting, per se, but definitely taking it easy and letting my aunt and Paul help out.  

I was so grateful to have Paul home.  It made all the difference in my stress level.  I sat on the floor in the bathroom while he did bath duty and then I helped dress her  and get her ready for bed.  Paul put her in my arms so I could rock her for a  few minutes and then he got her to bed.  We both went to bed early.  I even called it a night before Scandal, which I'd been waiting for since last week's cliffhanger!  I slept like a rock. 

I tried to take it easy today too, but Elena is cutting her eye teeth, I think, and was cranky and needy all day.  

Now I just have to endure the two week wait until my beta, which is scheduled for the 17th.  I'm praying for an early Christmas miracle.  In the meantime, I'm overanalyzing every twinge, flutter and cramp.  I'm positive I felt implantation the first two times I was pregant and tested positive on an HPT fairly early.  So, I keep hoping for that same gut feeling.  I've had some twinges today, a little bit of that stretching, pulling sensation and a brief moment of a tiny, barely noticeable cramp.  Could it be implantation?  Sure.  Or it could just be the less than healthy things I've consumed today turning my insides out.  Including, but not limited to 6 mini cinnamon donuts I inhaled right before I came up to bed. 

For any inquiring minds, yes, I will definitely be peeing on a stick.  I have no self control.  

Thanks for sharing the journey.  Prayers, sticky vibes, happy thoughts, baby dances...whatever you got, are all welcomed. I thank you in advance.

Stay tuned...

xoxo

This is how we make babies

I actually started my first blog in 2008 to document the beginning of our journey with infertility.  It was a private blog with no followers.  Equal Parts Hope and Faith.  It was really just an online journal to document the pain and frustration that burdened my heart. I deleted it a while back.  All of that emotion and information and research.  I wish I hadn't, but I can be hasty like that on rare occasion. 

I had another blog I started when I learned I was pregnant for the first time, back in February 2010.  I documented everything.  Cycle days.  Protocol.  Doctor appointments.  It was the first space I wrote the words- "I'm Pregnant." 

And then on St. Patrick's Day I learned my pregnancy was no longer viable.  And was told to go home and wait to miscarry.  So I did.  With a hole in my heart.  I never wrote about the miscarriage.  I ended up having to have a D&C on April 6, 2010.  It was a day that breaks my heart over and over.  My baby was a little boy.  He would have been two this month.  I quit blogging while I tried to heal the hole in my heart.  Again, I wish I hadn't.  For me, writing is healing and I should have given a voice to those emotions. 

When I began preparing for my 5th fertility treatment (4 IVF cycles + 1 FET), I decided that I was not going to blog about it.  I can be superstitious and felt that maybe I was jinxing myself, prematurely getting my hopes up.  Sharing too much of what might not be mine to keep.  Ridiculously juvenile thinking in hindsight.  I get that now.

It was a difficult cycle.  I developed severe OHSS and was on bed rest.  I was  pregnant with multiples and lost Baby A at 9 weeks.  Our second angel.  They actually suspect I was pregnant with triplets but the third sac was empty so it was never confirmed. 

I wish that I had blogged during that time.  I wish that I had the foresight to know that this pregnancy was real and would last and would be the one to finally make me a mother.  But I didn't.  I took pictures of my belly every week, documenting a pregnancy I didn't believe was real, but I didn't write about it. I am grateful for those pictures but sad that I didn't capture my pregnancy with words the way I had always dreamed I would. I didn't write in any of the pregnancy journals I received as gifts.  Didn't fill in the pregnancy calendar identical to the one I had been so detailed with for my first pregnancy.  I couldn't shake the feeling that this baby was not guaranteed to be mine until I held her in my arms. 

I suppose that is what happens when you become comfortable and accepting of the struggle.  And I don't mean just infertility.  I have always been a glass half full type of girl despite the hardships I've endured.  But I carefully balance that with always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

So although I'm not ready to delve into the complexity and severity of our infertility, I do feel that I am ready to make a home for parts of it on this blog.  And I am certainly open to discussing or answering questions if you'd like to direct them to me in an email. 

So that brings me to today.  Where I get to share that we are working on Baby #2.  It sure isn't happening the fun old-fashioned way, but I've grieved that loss already.  It still stings from time to time, but I am ever grateful to modern medicine and all that has enabled Paul and I to become parents.

We have 4 frozen embryos from our last IVF cycle (the one that gave us our miracle, Elena) that are sitting on ice in NJ waiting for us.  We have decided that since we will be home in NJ for the month of December, we will coordinate a Frozen Embryo Transfer with our trip so we can cycle with our beloved fertility clinic. 

I am nervous and anxious and scared and uncertain.  Translation- I am down right panicked.  But excited, hopeful, and positive at the same time.

So yes, friends, this is happening right now.  This is how we make babies. 

Baby making cocktail sprawled out on my mother-in-law's bed...scandalous! 

If you decide that you don't want to follow along as I document this go-around, I understand.  But I'm making no apologies and no hasty blog-deleting decisions, no matter what the outcome.

 I realize that, although infertility doesn't define me or my husband, it is a huge part of our lives.  One that I feel needs to be included and incorporated throughout this blog of mine, as it is still painful and real and present, even now that I have a child. 

Once Upon a Dime is here to stay.