Brothers

Peanut

Well these two certainly are brothers.

As soon as we posted pictures of Dumpling 

we started getting comments about how much these two looked like each other.

Dumpling

While they looked nearly identical at birth,
we started seeing differences shortly after.

Dumpling is a little softer, with fuller features,
Peanut's features were finer.

Peanut

It seems that every day Dumpling looks more and more like himself
and less like Peanut
but sometimes the similarities are overwhelming.


Dumpling

Personality-wise these two could not be more different thus far.

It's sort of hilarious.
This baby is low-maintenance.

So perhaps this one will take more after B
unlike his big brother who has my more shall we say, demanding personality.

Are your kids similar in temperament?
What about you and your siblings?

Peanut's pictures taken by Jylare Anne Photography
Dumpling's pictures taken by Kelly Lombardo Photography

Meet the Dumpling!

On Labor Day I woke up in the wee hours to a little trickle.
The trickle continued down my legs as I waddled to the bathroom.
I went potty.  Still trickling afterwards.
I told B my water might be leaking?  Then nothing.



And then I smelled it.


I know you're probably gagging right now but I've been told that amniotic fluid sometimes smells sweet.  I had to smell it.
You would have done the same thing.  Maybe.


But it didn't smell like anything.  Not like pee.  Not sweet.  Just nothing.

So I checked in at Labor & Delivery in the afternoon where they found no traces of fluid.
So either I did leak some fluid OR it was cervical fluid OR I peed myself repeatedly.


All these options are feasible and part of the joys of pregnancy.

What I did find out was that I was dilated to 3 cm (YAY!) and having regular contractions.
I'd been having Braxton Hick's since month 7 so this was not news to me.



 BUT more importantly we solved a great mystery!!


A mystery to me and definitely to some of you who want to know how in the world I was so HUGE.
Like look at that belly, it might fall off, how many kids are you having, how are you standing up, kind of huge.



I had Polyhydramnios which is an excess of amniotic fluid!


Lots and lots of fluid in there.  Dumpling was just swimmin' around.
 
They also guessed the baby would be about 8 1/2 lbs which kinda worried me.
I'm only 4'11" you know.
They made a few appointments for extra testing in regards to the fluid
 to make sure everything was OK.



They offered to keep me in the hospital for a while but I opted to go home.
My parents were keeping Peanut over for the night so I went home to relax with B.


I spent the night going through baby names trying to come up with something that B would like.
I failed by the way and we used the name he started calling the baby about 5 months ago.

At 1:35 am I woke up to my first painful contraction.
I went back to sleep and woke 15 minutes later to another one.

*At 2 am I started timing my contractions (with an iPhone App which cracked me up).
*At 2:30 my contractions were 5 minutes apart and we started to get ready to go to the hospital.
*A little after 3 am we were getting into the car when I called L&D
to let them know we were coming in.



They very politely told me that Labor & Delivery at our hospital in Irvine was FULL.


We were being diverted to the Anaheim hospital.
I tried to breathe through a contraction while she gave me the address.
I plugged it into my phone to find it added 20 minutes to our travel time.


That seems like a long time when you are in labor.
I thought about all the stories from friends who missed the epidural because it was too late when they checked in at the hospital.  I'm a fan of pain management. 
I'm just sayin'.  I am in awe of all you women who chose to do it all naturally.


Contractions were 3 minutes apart.

We pulled into the hospital parking lot and had no idea where to go having toured a different facility.


A very nice guard directed us and offered a wheel chair.
When I said I thought I could make it, he insisted saying, "You're going to be in enough pain today, you might as well take it easy on the way up there".  He is a very wise man.


We checked in about 3:45 am.
Everything else seemed to have flown by.
I say this now but contractions seem to slow time down to a crawl.
The nurses were absolutely fantastic and supportive.
The first one talked me through breathing as she tried to wrangle someone to check me out.
Contractions were coming about a minute apart.  I was so relieved to hear I was dilated to 5 cm.


Not only because I didn't miss the epidural but also because I was in labor with Peanut for 7 hours and still only dilated to 1 cm.  It was awful. 

They moved us into a delivery room and my mom joined us while my dad stayed home with Peanut who was still sleeping.


At 7 cm dilated the anesthesiologist came in to give me the epidural.  It hurt.  Not a lot but he did numb me twice.  And then it only worked on my right side.


So I could still feel everything on my left side which made for interesting labor.


In the mean time MY WATER BROKE which I could feel and all I can say is
Thank God I Wasn't Out In Public
because it was a LOT of fluid.  Like drench the bed/table make puddles on the floor fluid.
ut in public that would have been traumatic for everyone.


And my stomach deflated.
It visually went down which is really bizarre. 
That's saying a lot because childbirth in general is just bizarre.


I felt bad for the nurse who had to clean up.
This is why I packed little thank you gifts of Burt's Bee's products and nail polish to give to the nurses I liked.  In my previous delivery I probably would have kept all the gifts because my nurses were all grumpy.  Do you remember how I made Lime Bars?  This time I wish I had brought more gifts because everyone was so awesome.

The anesthesiologist came back in and apparently hit me with another full dose.
The perk is that it kicked in shortly before it was pushing time!
The downside was that he gave me so much I couldn't walk until 4 pm that evening.
It was a little alarming.


The nurses came in, I pushed twice and the little Dumpling was born.


With the cord wrapped once around his neck and twice around his body!


Part of the problem with an excess in amniotic fluid is that there is the possibility of delivery issues. 
At only 7 pounds 4 ounces, 20 inches long (4 ounces and 1 inch smaller than his brother), Dumpling had lots of room to move around and get himself tangled.


A lot of things could have gone wrong, but none of them did.
We are so grateful.

September 2, 2014
I started counting contractions at 2 am,
checked into the hospital at 3:45 am
and had the baby at 7:19 am!











He's lovely and perfect and we are all very happy.
This one is spoiling me for sure.  He actually sleeps.


Big brother is doing well, much better than I expected.
He loves his little brother and takes his job very seriously.
I have noticed an increase in drama and tears lately.
Peanut also started school a few days later so there has been a lot going on
but I think we are all adjusting wonderfully!

Labor Amnesia

I often hear people say that after the baby is born a mother forgets what labor was like.

To which I say

BULL SHIT.

Yes, yes, you are overcome with love for your new little bundle of joy and that may take your mind off your battered, possibly stitched, and definitely swollen nether regions.  

Obviously I consider this all very worth it because I did try for 2 years to have another baby but

Labor Sucks.

And I don't like pain.  I'm not going to lie.

I'm not going to try and go without drugs.

And I haven't forgotten what it was like.

Seriously, I would need to suffer a special type of amnesia to forget labor.  And I had an epidural.  So perhaps I'm just remembering the first part of active labor and the aftermath.

Oh the aftermath. 

So with 19 days until due date, I'm here to say, 

I know what's coming and I'm not exactly looking forward to it.

Cloth Diapering, Let's Do It

When Peanut was little we did a bit of cloth diapering.

Mostly we did gDiapers (what he's wearing above) because it had the option of flushable inserts.

We were in an apartment without our own washing machine which made it
 harder to handle the diapering.

I still feel good about it.  I figure every time I used a cloth diaper, even just once, we were saving the environment and our money.

This time I'm more determined to cloth diaper.

We have a washing machine here and well, diapers are freaking expensive.

Yeah, yeah, the poop.  I know it freaks a lot of people out.

Poop doesn't freak me out people.  

There is inevitably poop on things, cloth diapering or not.

I'm more worried about finding spiders and beetles in Peanut's pockets.

This is a realistic fear.  I can handle poop.  Bugs in pockets is much worse.

I know a lot of families are out there cloth diapering and there are SO MANY options that I'm completely overwhelmed. 

So please. help. me.

What kinds do you use?

How do you store them until wash time?

How do you wash them?

How do you dry them?

How many do I need?

What kind of wipes and wiping products do you use?

Do you clean out your washer in between?

What types of detergent do you use?

What else do I need to know?

I'm excited, give me all your knowledge!

Baby belly, 27 weeks and growing

Here I am at 27 weeks!

This was 2 1/2 weeks ago and I feel like I've doubled in size.

I'll try to get another picture soon.

My sister took these at my niece's bridal shower which I must post!

The first trimester creeps by so slowly and then about halfway through time just starts accelerating.

Sometimes I get a little sad that we're in the home stretch.

I can't wait to meet the little guy but I also love being pregnant.

I love watching the baby move and feeling him practice his karate.  Most of the time.

I love carrying this baby without really having to do much to care for him.
That sounds terrible but some of you know what I mean.
I've had a newborn, I remember those sleepless…. months.

This is my last pregnancy and I want to remember all of it. 

I'll miss it.

~sniff, sniff~

Do I need all the things?

Here's the thing about a 4 year spread between kids.  

It doesn't seem that long but in parenting years it's really more like 28 years.

Parenting years are like dog years.

Only without all the perks of being a dog, like being fed and bathed and taking naps.

Yeah, parenting years are like dog years without the sleep.

You see, I'm having a hard time remembering what I really need.

NEED.  This word has new meaning with the second child.

After posting on Facebook that I needed bottle suggestions and realizing I still had 45 more questions, 

I thought a blog post might be a better option.

So hit me with all your favorites!

Baby slings:
I'm super excited about the Ergo my lovely Mother-in-law just bought us.

Will that work around the house or is there a sling that doesn't involve me watching a youtube video and being a contortionist to use?

I've seen some of these slings and frankly, they scare me.
Please send help.

Strollers:

I have a newborn seat with a snap and go.

We have a single stroller.

But do I really need a double stroller?
Regular stroller?  Jogging? (and no I don't plan on running with the stroller unless something is physically chasing us)  Tandem?
These suckers are expensive so I need the low down on the stroller situation.

Glider:

Last time around I bought a rocking chair from Ikea. 

I will never live this down because IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY ROCK.

Did it rock in the store?  I can't remember but it was a disaster and I'd like an actual glider this time.

Are there any attractive gliders out there that don't cost $800?



I did find this rocker that is a chair and a half which might be a cool option so Peanut can sit with us.
But now I'm afraid of rockers, so I'm just not sure.



Monitors:
Our Levana monitor died and the static was horrid anyway.
Although, to be honest, I don't really need sound.  I usually turn it off bc I hear everything, all the time.
But I do need a visual.
I need a camera for the baby and one for Peanut.
Peanut talks and cries and calls for me in his sleep so it's better if I can check the monitor instead of going into his room.
This is a non-negotiable for me because it allows me to wake and glance at the monitors instead of going in there and staring and the children, which I will do!
Temperature would be a nice addition bc I'm always afraid it's too hot or cold but it's not a deal breaker.
Any suggestions?

And what about this Angelcare monitor, awesome or a way to fuel paranoia?
I would still want a visual but I'm curious to see what you all think about it.

Other goods:

Oddly enough when I think of things I need, the first item that pops into my head are the Aden and Anais swaddle blankets.  I use them daily.

What can't you live without?

What else do I need?

Pregnancy after Miscarriage

The first time I got pregnant, I presented B with a gift as soon as he got home.  It was the positive pregnancy test wrapped in a baby blanket with a baby book.  We celebrated continuously from that day on.  I might note that this is the only time when gifting someone with something that you've peed on is socially acceptable.

The second time I got pregnant, I videotaped Peanut handing B the positive pregnancy test as they lounged on the bed before bath time.  He was surprised, Peanut was oblivious, we were excited.  A week after that I had my first miscarriage.

6 months later, I was pregnant again.  I felt really good about this one.  I put a Big Brother shirt on Peanut the next day as an announcement for B.  We celebrated with a smile and a hug and phone call to the doctor to set up an appointment for a positive confirmation.  Our baby never developed to the point of a beating heart.  At 10 weeks and 1 day, I had the D&C that made that miscarriage complete.  Although the first miscarriage seemed more emotionally draining on me, this one was harder on B.  It might have something to do with me going through surgery.  Maybe loading me up post-op gave him flashbacks from cancer treatment?

I always think back to this year as "The year of lost children."  I was driving home from work one day when the phrase popped in my head, and it has always stuck with me.  I had 2 miscarriages in 6 months, one of my best friends miscarried, a lovely blog friend had lost dear Little Roo at 20 weeks pregnant, a dear friend and family member lost her twin boys at 23 weeks pregnant and my neighbor lost their 10 year old son.  And by lost I really mean that these children were snatched from everyone's grasping hands, while we were left standing there stunned and reaching for air.



In December when we found out we were pregnant again, we were about to get in the car to drive from Sacramento to Orange County after visiting family for the holidays.  It had been a year since the last pregnancy.  After 2 years of trying and 2 miscarriages, this one seemed less a victory and more of a waiting game.  We talked about it quietly a while during the drive but we didn't make any plans.

There are a great deal of very obvious reasons that miscarriage sucks.  Obviously.  One of those reasons is that it robs you of the pure joy and excitement of finding out you're pregnant.  Post-misscarriage pregnancy announcements are made with disclaimers.  "Yes, we're so excited, but we'll just wait and see!"  " We're pregnant…keep your fingers crossed this one will stick!" "We're pregnant, everything looks good so far…."

I caught myself giving almost apologetic looks when I told people I was pregnant.  I'm not sure why. Clearly we were excited, but maybe we didn't want to be too excited, just in case?

I spent the first couple months obsessively checking my underwear, the toilet and the toilet paper for blood every time I went to the bathroom.  Aches and pains from a growing uterus were deeply contemplated.  Is this the beginning of cramps for the next miscarriage?  Eventually, I eased up.  The first victory was the ultrasound showing us the baby's heartbeat.  Every ultrasound after provided an exhalation when I heard that little heart still beating.

Countless people told me that the never-ending amount vomiting during that first trimester was a good sign.  I tried to remind myself that as I kneeled over the toilet daily.  I felt the first flutter at a mere 13 weeks and good consistent movement at 17 weeks.  Ultrasound after ultrasound and things have looked perfect.  But still, B hadn't recovered.  I was truly surprised by this because nothing seems to fase him.  He is perpetually calm, like the house is on fire and he's cruising through picking up a couple things on our way out, calm.  Like maddeningly calm.  I could always tell that he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

After each appointment I would beam at him and say, "Don't you feel better now that x,y,z has passed?"  He'd say yes but he's really waiting for the next big milestone.  Before that huge 20 week ultrasound, where they find out all the nitty gritty like complications with the fetus, we had a talk about how to handle any problems we might find.



I'll be honest, I think that we were both expecting something to be wrong.  Perhaps some terminal fetal condition.   He just wanted me to be OK and to survive whatever happened.  I just wanted to carry the baby as long as possible, even if the baby didn't make it.  I feel like my one job as a mother is to keep my child alive as long as humanly possible, even if it means going through an entire pregnancy just to say good-bye.  Every month I'm pregnant is another month this baby is being comfortably carried by his mommy.  I respect the fact that not everyone feels this way and understand that people have their own decisions to make.

In the end, everything looked perfect and we found out we were having another little boy.  I feel good and I think that B is breathing easier.  Still in this post-misscarriage pregnancy we have little goals.  26 weeks and the baby will have a really good chance at survival, 30 weeks and we're golden.

I'm 25 weeks along now.  B can feel the baby move all the time, Peanut is talking about his baby brother and I'm happy to chat with strangers about this big baby belly they're all noticing.  Perhaps it hasn't been as big a celebration as I would have liked but it's hard to celebrate when you are walking on eggshells.  Now I feel comfortable and things are feeling real and we're getting more excited by the day!

~~~added after Little Dumpling was born~~~

At 30 weeks and then at 35 weeks, I reveled in the whispers I heard when passing people, "Look at her, she must be due any minute now!"  I was a gravity defying giant and loved that it proved my baby was alive and well.  Just five days before his due date, our little dumpling arrived, with 10 perfect little fingers and 10 perfect little toes.

I still think about those babies who we loved and lost--- I always will.  I wonder who they were and wish I had the chance to know them.

But life would have been different.

I look at my husband and two beautiful boys and can't ask for anything more than the perfect that I have now.


~All photos were taken by Adrienne Gunde during my pregnancy with the Peanut!

And the next one will be...

Taken on Easter (20 weeks, the halfway point!)

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

This year I'm celebrating with my one little boy.

My silly, sweet, sensitive, dirty, energetic, crazy little boy.

But next Mother's Day I'll be celebrating with…... 

TWO LITTLE BOYS!

Peanut with baby Charlie

As I suspected after watching every ultrasound like a hawk, we're having another little boy.
I knew I saw something there!

So I'm going to be the mom of TWO BOYS,
I can hardly believe it!

The jump from one to two boys seems so hard core.

Double the dirt, double the fun?

Is that how the saying goes?

Meanwhile, I've given up my stash of girls clothes and girls names and girl plans (sigh),
and I'm getting really excited.  I can't wait to see if the two boys look alike or totally different.

  B is over the moon.  He would have been very happy to have a girl but I do recall him starting to talk about having 2 boys before we even had Peanut.

And no, we are not going to be trying for a girl next… are you crazy?
You know we'll end up with 3 boys!
This is it.  2 is perfect and I'm sure we'll have our hands full.

Peanut has been practicing his big brother skills on Boots the dog and Toby the turtle.

He likes to hum the Star Wars theme song to baby Boots to get him to go to sleep.

I need to get a video of that some time soon.

Every infant wants to fall asleep to the Star Wars theme song, right?

\

Soak it all in Peanut, you have about 17 more weeks to be the baby
before little brother comes in and cramps your style!

Peanut's Book Journal

Back in September for some unknown reason 
I decided that I should be cataloging the books that Peanut is reading.
Or that I am reading to Peanut.  Or that we are reading together, depending on how you look at it.

I think it had something to do with discovering the Goodreads scanner on my phone.  I spent an hour that night scanning books in a frenzy.

And so I signed Peanut up for Goodreads and started rating and sorting.

Then I started separating them into bookshelves of holidays, favorite illustrations, etc.  Both for my own references and for other parents who ask me for recommendations.

I couldn't even begin to remember all the library books we've checked out over the last few years.  
I'm glad to keep track now so that I may find and revisit old favorites.
We randomly pick up a lot of books as we pass shelves at the library and sometimes we have a hard time remembering what they were months later.

We don't review books until we've had them a few weeks.  
Like food, I find that kids are sometimes uninterested the first time around.

As we go through and fill out reviews, I've separated them into both "Mommy" and "Peanut" reviews… because we obviously don't always have the same taste.  
Ratings are averaged between the 2 of us.

Sometimes we revisit old books and he really takes to them all of a sudden.
Some books are instant classics for the both of us.




Won't this be great to look back on when he gets older?
Or is it just me in my book nerdiness?

So if you want to keep up with our book reviews
 you can find us on Goodreads HERE!

I'd love suggestions for books to read!

We are always looking for something new and I love hearing what your family favorites are.

True Story

Exactly.

Peanut's Promotion

We're finally here!

It's been 2 years and several pregnancies but the 3rd time's a charm!

I'll be 13 weeks on Sunday and everything is looking perfect!
We are very excited!

I'll tell you all about it as soon as I stop throwing up.  ;)

Let daddy take a nap

Daddy is really tired.

Don't wake him up, let's let him sleep for a little bit, OK?

"OK, mommy. "

Parenting means learning to sleep while your kid climbs all over you.

Pics taken Sept 2013

The-thing-that-must-not-be-named

So.  The Elf on the Shelf.

I don't get it.

I'm not going to go on some tirade about spoiling children and how parents don't need to stage these elaborate scenes because hello do you remember Peanut's birthday parties?   And forget lecturing about commercialism and the true meaning of Christmas because I LOVE Christmas.  All of it.  The good, the bad and the cheesy.  The kid has a his own house decorated for Christmas for goodness sakes..

I'm not even dead set against The Elf.  I imagined picking up Peanut from preschool one day, sniffling as he came to the door, looking up to me with big, sad eyes and asking, "Mommy, why don't we have an elf on the shelf?" To which I would reply, "Oh honey, our elf is coming tomorrow!"  It wouldn't be the first late night run to Target and hopefully it won't be the last.  (Does anyone else love that quiet, childless stroll through Target after all the normal shoppers have left?)

My plan until that moment is not to talk about The Elf at all, in hopes that when he does hear it mentioned at school, he'll have no idea what they are talking about.  We shall not name that thing.

I'm watching you.

The first thing I don't understand about the-thing-that-must-not-be-named, and this is very important, is that it's Creepy.  With a capital C.  With all the technology we have today, how was it not possible to make a remotely cute and endearing elf?   

The eyes.  

It's all in the eyes.

That thing is freaking me the heck out.  And I'm not the only one.

This is pretty accurate as to how I feel about this thing running around and wreaking havoc at night while we are all sleeping.

P.S.  This photographer is hilarious, genius and terrifying.  I especially like her Facebook page because it has the perfect mixture of classic family, boudoir and couples photography mixed with some truly disturbing creepy elf photos.  I love a lady with balance.

The second thing I don't understand is the every day part of the deal.  Parenting is so full of every single day tasks.  Feed the kids everyday.  Bathe the kids every day.  Brush their teeth every day.  Change their diapers every day.  You know?  So I'm resistant to an every day situation.  Although I have done a Christmas book a day in lieu of an advent calendar (and yes I start Thanksgiving because I have that many books) but let me give you a little background on how that is going.


Clearly this is not our pile (all of the pictures on this post are from Pinterest)

Year 1:  Every day after bath there is a nicely wrapped book sitting under the tree.  Well not everyday because he was too little to know that we were repeating books.  At the end of this year I wrapped all the books before putting them away in storage for the following year.

Year 2:  Every day there is a nicely wrapped book sitting under the tree.  At the end of this year I threw all of these books along with all our Christmas movies into a big container that was nearly impossible to carry into the attic crawl space.

Year 3:  Nearly kill the family trying to pass said container down the ladder.  Wrap 6 books and run out of tape, mentally add tape to the list of things to buy.  After 6 days of a nicely wrapped book sitting under the tree we forget, on a nightly basis, that we are supposed to have another book under the tree.  When Peanut gets out of the bath we shove a book in a gift bag with a piece of tissue paper.  Until the tissue paper disappears.  Instead of finding more tissue paper we stuff plastic grocery bags in as filler.  He doesn't seem to mind.  The gift bag has since ripped on one side.  He still doesn't mind.


Is it me or is that one angry looking powder angel?
And don't even get me started on the cop picture.

So yes, we have all these normal parenting daily things to do and then the holidays hit and we go from life is busy type of crazy to Holy Shit the holidays type of crazy. And then we have the nightly staging of the Thing.  Maybe I'll get into it next year but right now, I'm too tired to think that's realistic.

There is an undeniable perk to the-thing-that-must-not-be-named.
He's Santa's snitch.  I'm all for having something around to keep the kid in line for a few weeks.  But this leads me to my next question.

Why is that creepy little thing always getting into terrible trouble in the night?  Aren't we trying scare our kids into submission by threatening coal and the full wrath of the naughty list?  

So let me get this straight.  Every day the kids wake-up to find that the-thing-that-must-not-be-named made snow angels in the powdered sugar, tied-up his toy friends, ate all the cookies, wrote on the mirrors and had an all night strip poker party with Barbie.

All in order to get our kids to behave.

I'm so confused.

So, we spend a month giving the kids examples of things they shouldn't do and then tell them to toe the line or Santa's sleigh is skipping this house on Christmas Eve.

I mean, wouldn't this theory make more sense if It was prompting the kids to do nice things.  Like if everyday the-thing-that-must-not-be-named had a sign that said,
 "If you wake your mommy up today, you can say goodbye to any hopes of getting that Teenage Mutant Ninja Princess Rainbow Loom Sword Set."
  Or whatever. 

Don't play with fire kids!

I'm not saying It has to be holding a different scripture passage every day because let's face it, Elves, and Santa for that matter, have little to do with the religious holiday.
I don't remember hearing about any elves lurking around at the birth of Christ.  Maybe they were at that one nativity with the lobsters.

There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?



I will say that there are quite a few very cute ideas that I really do like.  Even if the Thing is creepy.

Besides if you want to get all religious you could replace the-thing with this instead.  But that's not at all the same, now is it?   I mean, there are alternatives like these two and these peeps and of course Etsy has this girl (can someone make this for me pretty please, she's too precious).  Of course there is Montgomery, the mouse that is not at all less creepy than the Elf.

I don't know.  I'm still waiting to feel inspired by some of this.

So if you can clarify any of these things, I'd greatly appreciate it.  Otherwise, we can laugh and cry together next year when you notice me pinning elaborate ideas on how to turn my living room into the North Pole by morning so that I set the right stage for the-thing-that-must-not-be-named.

2 weeks at a time

So I have this problem with patience.  Once I make a solid decision that I want to do something, it must be put into place immediately.  I like to plan.  I like things to happen as soon as I'm ready for them to happen.  Apparently baby-making doesn't run on that kind of schedule.

After the last miscarriage I was in absolutely no hurry to get pregnant again.  I was going to lose 10 lbs to get back down to my pre-Peanut weight.  I was going to work out.  I could not feel comfortable getting pregnant again until we dug ourselves out of debt.  Did I mention the last miscarriage and D & C cost thousands of dollars?  And then both of our vehicles needed work?  And then we found out our taxes were wrong and instead of getting $2500 back we owed $2000?  It was a really fun 2 weeks in which we received all these bills.  After that the panic subsided and we buckled down.

One day I was chatting with a friend via text message, because I often only have 30 seconds at a time to converse with people, and I was explaining why it's hard for me to maintain a pregnancy.  I was talking about my old chemo-fied eggs and how it would be like me trying to get pregnant in my late 40's and it hit me.

I don't have the time to be waiting around for the stars to align.

Sure I need to pay off bills and have more time at home and save more money and lose more weight and eat more leafy greens and align my chi and do all kinds of stuff that I can't think of right now but AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.

So here we are again and I find that despite my great efforts to not be crazy, life is once again broken into 2 week increments.

2 weeks until my period.  Will it come?  Will it not come?  Will it? Will it?  Huh?  Huh?
2 weeks until ovulation.  Then cross your fingers, your eyes and your legs and pray something sticks.
2 weeks to menstruation.  I'm sure it won't come this time.
2 weeks to ovulation.  Go! Go!  Go!
2 weeks to judgement day.  I just know I'm pregnant this month.
2 weeks to baby making time.  Do the words "I'm ovulating" make you want me?
2 weeks of crossing fingers.  Did I shave my legs for this?
2 weeks of impatiently waiting...

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Oh and the pregnancy tests.  I cannot hold on to a pregnancy test without taking it.  Do you know how much those things cost?  Like $10 each!  I'm in the wrong business.

I had to hide the tests from myself, make them hard to reach, try to forget where they are because it's just so easy to take the tests.  I must know!  It says you can detect it 6 days before you even miss your period!

So a good friend of mine got some pregnancy tests from a co-op she belongs to.  They are just the little tests you use at the doctor.  Just dip them in your pee and wish that second line into developing.  I paid less than a quarter a piece.  I feel like I won the lottery.  I had 40 of them.  40!  I'm going to start some black market for pregnancy tests.  I send my friends messages offering them up to people I know who are trying.  But who knows, in 2 weeks I might have blown through the whole batch.

Of birds and bugs

Climbing mountains at the park

The other day Peanut and I were in the backyard.  It was one of those gorgeous sunny days and we were watching the birds flock to our fruit trees.  The previously unidentifiable fruit tree of which I will ask advice about at a later time.

He laughed as the birds flew around and I watched him attempt to take off with them.

He jumped, waving his arms around and laughing loudly as the birds took off for safer ground.  Peanut did this repeatedly while I watched with amusement.

He suddenly looked at me in disbelief.  "Mommy, I can't fly."
I could tell he was actually surprised.

"Well, where are your wings and feathers?" I asked.

"I don't have wings.  I can't fly, I'm too little," he said as if he will surely be able to fly when he gets older.

I was having one of those existential mommy moments.  You know those moments?  The ones where you marvel about the existence of you and your little one, at your places on this Earth.  You are amazed to see this little human you helped create.

I was watching his mind whirl over the fact that there was something he could not do and watched as he decided that surely he would be able to do this wonderful, amazing thing when he got a bit bigger.

I watched him as he smiled and ran and giggled and played and I took note of every moment, trying to burn it into my memories.  It is an amazing thing to watch your child exist and learn and grow.

I saw the tiny bug, about the size of a gnat, land on the the bright yellow stool sitting in the middle of the lawn.  His eyes lit up as he discovered this new friend.  Oh how he loves bugs.

In the blink of an eye he was reaching over to it and the sound of me screaming NOOOOOOO! broke the magic of our moment as he smashed it with his finger and stuck it in his mouth.

Just be braver than the baby

I'm afraid of the dark.

I believe in ghosts.

I have a hyperactive imagination.

Let that information soak in for a second.  

Yes, I'm sure nighttimes as a child were fun for my parents.

Fortunately Peanut is still at the age that monsters are funny and not lurking under the bed.

However, the other day he ran to tell us that there was a monster outside the front door of my parents house.  It was really a wreath that was moving in the wind, casting shadows through the glass.

It reminded me that fears are something we are getting much closer to and I better figure out how handle these types of situations.

Last night Peanut woke up screaming for me to come help him.

This happens nightly but I have a hard time letting him cry for me when he is specifically saying Mommy, help me!  (more on this fascinating choice of words later)

When I went in he was still half asleep and crying.

Me:  What's wrong baby, how can I help you?

Him:  Help, mommy, help me!  Help me please! ~pulls at his hands in frustration~

Me:  Help you with what, what is it?  ~yawn~

Him:  There!  Right there!  See!  ~points into the darkness over my left shoulder~

Help mommy, help! 

Me:  ~momentarily paralyzed with fear~

Me:  ~looks around while mentally chanting, just keep your cool mommy, don't freak the kid out, there is nothing there, no need to plant the fear of the dark in his head.  Man, it's really dark in here...~

Me:  Uh-huh, do you want me to tuck you in?

Him: No, no, no, no, this!  ~he points and then rolls to his side~  Sit, mommy.

Me:  OK baby, I love you.  

I sit in silence, my eyes searching, groping through the darkness.

What was that?  Did something move?

Will I wake him if I turn up the night light?

Be cool mommy, just be cool, there is nothing there.

~glances over shoulder~  

WTF did he mean by "Right there!  See!"?!
~shifts uncomfortably and looks around!

I sat there for a while, then ran down the hallway and jumped into bed, where I woke B.

He looked at me and went right back to sleep.

He's used to this kind of activity when I (rarely) have to be the one to turn off the lights.

The point is that I'm crazy, yes, but also that I don't get to be crazy in front of Peanut.

I'm going to have to master my poker face and figure out how to reassure him while my inner dialogue is screaming, take the child and run!  Save your family! because really, that's just not cool.

But seriously, next time your are with someone late at night, I want you to look over their shoulder and gasp! with a terrified look on your face, or better yet, just gasp and run, perhaps dragging them with you.  Make a mental note of that look on their face and you'll understand what I'm trying to avoid.

~Pictures were taken with my phone during nap time.  I was washing the sheets, don't judge me.  And seriously, don't kids look so angelic when they sleep?  Even when they are sweaty and after a long meltdown, they look so darn sweet.  Of course, then they wake up.

Damn. Dammit. Shit.

10 weeks, 1 day.

That's how long I carried this last little one.

We had the positive pregnancy test in the beginning of December and I felt really good about it.

I got those immediate, dark confirmation lines a few days before I was even due to miss my period.

I have the inability to ignore those pregnancy tests sitting under our sink and that was the last one.

I didn't even feel compelled to buy more, I already knew because of the total and complete exhaustion I felt that I was absolutely pregnant.

I put a Big Brother shirt on Peanut the next day and waited for daddy to notice what it said.  We celebrated with more reserve then we would have before the first miscarriage.  We'd feel better when we saw that little beating heart on the monitor during the first ultrasound.  Still we were excited, despite my aversion to meat and my waves of nausea.

A day before the 8 week mark we sat in the doctors office.  I shifted with a crunch, crunch as I sat on the paper-covered examining chair.   I tried to cover my freezing legs with a sheet and ignore the nervousness I was suddenly feeling.

The midwife and trainee came in and chatted through the preliminary questions.  They knew that after the last miscarriage I would be eager to get through this and tried their best to hurry.  She commented on how fast my heart was beating and I gave a nervous laugh.

When the ultrasound started we all looked at it in silence.  I couldn't see anything inside the yolk sack.  

My mind flitted back to the first appointment with Peanut where at 6 1/2 weeks we saw the little flicker of his beating heart.  I held my breath.  Then we saw the little blip of the baby as they tried to maneuver the ultrasound wand to get a better view.  The sack was measuring 7 only weeks and there wasn't a heartbeat yet.  We were told that at this stage in development the heartbeat could show up any day.  There was still a chance.

We walked out of the office in a silent daze.  This was not how I had envisioned the visit going.  B left for work and I headed to the lab to get my blood drawn.  Over the next week we kept track of my steadily climbing HCG levels with great hope.  The levels looked so good they bumped up the next appointment for an ultrasound.

A little over a week later we sat in the waiting room for far too long.  It was the first time they had run late like this and B had to leave for work as I sat waiting in the examination room.   As soon as the ultrasound started I knew it wasn't good.  Although the baby looked a little bigger she still couldn't find a heartbeat. They sent me down for more blood work and an ultrasound in radiology where the machines are more sensitive.  I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for results from various tests and reading the same few pages of my book.  The midwife cried with me when she told me that the baby didn't make it.  There was no heartbeat, the yolk sack was an abnormal shape and despite the rising HCG levels the pregnancy had failed.  She told me I had gone through too much in my young life and gave me my options.

I sobbed in the parking lot as I called B at work.  Again.  Here I am again, sitting in the parking lot, calling B at work to tell him that we lost the baby.  Again.  I sent a message to my mom to tell her and let her know that I would pick up Peanut later.  I needed to go home and sleep, I was so tired all of a sudden.  A little Taco Bell therapy and a nap.  B came home early from work and we talked about moving forward.  I felt better by the evening.  I'd known for a week this was a possibility.

A week later at 10 weeks my body wasn't showing any signs of a natural miscarriage and I had decided not to wait on it.  I looked at the prescription I had picked up and read the direction on how to take the medication.  Insert both pills into your vagina 3 hours before surgery.  I read the directions again.  You see, the pills were the same ones I took during the last miscarriage only I had taken them ORALLY.  These weren't suppositories, these were just plain ole pills and there was no applicator.  I sent the doctor a message and called the nurse.  "Are you sure?  I stick these, up there, with my finger?", I asked.  She assured me that the pills can be taken orally or vaginally.  This is still odd to me.  I mean, they couldn't make the same pill a little more vagina friendly?   Who's with me?  I assumed I could then ignore the part of the instructions that said the medicine should be taken with food.  I hope.

The next day, after "taking my medicine" my mom took me to the surgery center after she came to pick up Peanut.  B was heading in from work to pick me up.  I sat in pre-op by myself and thought about how I could handle anything.  I felt calm as I read my book and listened to the woman behind the curtain next to me.  She was a nervous wreck and I felt bad for her.  I sat calmly as the doctor asked 100 questions regarding my breast cancer diagnosis and then what vein I prefer he use for the IV.  Doctors are always interested in my breast cancer history, it's seems like a fun learning case.  I was impressed with the lidocaine numbing shot before the IV (wrist and hand IV's always hurt a bit) and the awesome heating contraption they hooked to my gown.  I sat comfortably waiting for my turn in the OR.  I reclined in my bed and slipped into the world described in my book.

2 hours later I realized the lidocaine had worn off when I could feel how uncomfortable the IV was.  I had picked my favorite chemo spot, a nice vein in my wrist that usually didn't give me any trouble.  Apparently the vein was tired and he had to go in a little higher.  I sat with my hand hanging over the railing in hopes of relieving some of the pressure.  I tried to pull the IV back slightly but the tape did it's job and made it impossible.  I could feel the bruise forming.  It makes me laugh that I feel I can do things like adjust my own IV because that just can't be a good idea.

That cool contraption that was heating my gown was starting to feel like a personal torture device.  I tried to look around and follow the hose pumping in the hot air to it's source.  There was no luck.  I kept up a never-ending round of texts to my parents and B as I started to sweat.  I sent pictures of my stocking feet as I waited in bed.  I suspect that this is not normal behavior for a person but I blame blogging on my impulse to document everything.  I kept eyeing the red button that calls the nurse.

Does sweating in your dressing down give you cause to push the red button hanging next to the bed?  If I push the button are people going to come rushing in to save me?  How long can I stand the heat?  Is this for emergencies only?  It was at this point specifically that I wished desperately that B was with me.  Not because of the actual surgery or because of the emotional difficulty but because of the heat induced panic I was nearly in.

I envisioned them putting me on the operating table and talking about how they would need to wipe the sweat off my body before starting.  Nobody wants to deal with a sweaty hoo hoo and so I quickly pushed the button and looked around anxiously.  I'm sure I looked a lot like Peanut just after he's done something he knows he shouldn't.  The nurse came in and pointed out a dial that would have apparently controlled the heat.  This would have been good to know during the hour I sat in my own little piece of hell.  

It was close to 2 pm and I hadn't had anything to eat since the night before.  I tried to fan the sweat off my body.  A few minutes later a nurse came in to take me to the OR.  What is my name, when is my birthday, etc, etc.  She asked me to confirm name of the procedure I was waiting on.  Suddenly I couldn't remember what it was called.  In my mind I recalled my mom calling it a "dusting and cleaning" and I laughed at the thought of repeating that to her.  I'm here for a D&C and my voice sounded calm and easy.  Everyone looked at me as if I might break down into tears but there is something very familiar to me about being at the doctor.  I felt completely comfortable, even more so after the calming cocktail.  A few minutes later, under the bright lights I took a few deep breaths and that was it.

When I woke up I saw the nurse pull out the mesh panties.  I laughed at seeing them again before remembered the baby I was holding the last time I had to wear them.  It was something about the damn mesh panties.  We chit chatted and I found out that she had 4 boys, the youngest is 3 and I couldn't believe her energy.  I'm always compelled to talk to my nurses and doctors and find out more about them.  It might be habit from managing restaurants, that same social tendency to get to know people and make them feel comfortable.  It might be a way for me to focus on things other than my nerves.  Maybe I'm just nosey.  My doctor is 36 and grew up in HB, he seemed slightly socially uncomfortable and I tried to give him encouraging smiles when he made eye contact.  The anesthesiologist is also a comedian, the nurse prefers tea over coffee, these are things I remember.

B came in as they got me ready to head home.  I hobbled inside our house and sat staring at the TV, clicking, clicking, clicking without seeing the pictures.  I wondered why my doctor needed to give me 100 pills with a refill.  I wondered how bad the pain would be.  600 mg ibuprofen and I still have Vicodin from the last miscarriage and I started thinking about the prescription drug problem in America.  I'm pretty sure I came up with a few ways to save the world but I can't remember any of them anymore.  I cried into B's chest before bed as I had a few days prior and went to sleep feeling closer to him then ever before.

The next day I felt a million times better.  I had taken 2 pills.  I cleaned house, organizing things that made life feel more in control.  I thought about what the doctor had told us.  

She reminded me that after rounds and rounds of chemo it affected my body in more permanent ways.  At 33 years old my eggs were really in their 40's.  I had thought the difficulty would be in getting pregnant but I suppose that for me the difficulty is in staying pregnant.  2 miscarriages in 6 months, almost to the day.

That was when I realized how lucky we are.  We always new Peanut was a gift but I never appreciated him so much.  We got pregnant with him so quickly that it seemed the threat of having chemo-fied eggs was over. Now we were reminded the truth and I felt a new rush of gratitude for having Peanut.  If all else fails, if we never make it through another pregnancy, we have each other and we have Peanut and we have friends and family who love us and we will always be grateful for this world that we have.

Sometimes I'm sad.  Sometimes I think about that pink-cheeked baby I thought I would be holding in August or the one I so briefly thought about holding in March and my arms twitch momentarily and I swallow the lump in my throat.  But at this point, 5 days later, I mostly feel positive.  I look forward to getting healthy, getting my body back in shape, getting my mind back in shape and spending some time with my family.  

And then our bubble burst

Sometimes the only way for me to process an experience is to write about it.  When my mind is full of thoughts, I take one out, write it down and place it on a shelf next to the other things I've written.   The weight is transferred elsewhere, to a place I can visit as I please but is less present than the thoughts pushing their way to the front, wanting their turn to make it on the page.

So here we are and here I am, about to tell you a little story, in more depth then anyone needs to know. It's not a pretty story but it's one that some of you share with me.

A week ago I had a miscarriage.

I was only 5 weeks pregnant.  We had only been celebrating for 5 days but I still feel the sting.

Christchurch, New Zealand 2010

The previous Sunday, before B came home from a trip, I snuck into the bathroom and took a pregnancy test.  Actually it was the third test I had taken in less than a week.  Despite the fact that it was unlikely those expensive little sticks could actually tell me I was pregnant a week before my expected period, I took the first one 7 days before anyway.  Of course, it was negative.  So I took one a few days later and again, it was negative.  I waited to take the 3rd one because I had a book club meeting in the morning and I knew that if it was positive I wouldn't be able to keep a secret and my whole book club would know before B.

So there I was trying to hide from Peanut as I peed on a stick (I mean, I don't want to find him trying to pee on any stick he comes across) and I just knew it was positive.  When I saw that double line I just smiled to myself, did a little jig and went about my day.  That evening, when B, Peanut and I were all in bed (as part of the pre-bath routine), I handed the test to Peanut, who handed it to Daddy, who said thank you and then something along the lines of "What the.... are you serious... is this real.... really?!...." followed by a lot of laughing and a little more shock.

I have it all on video and can't decide whether or not to delete it.

We spent the next 5 days planning and dreaming.  Well, one step closer to the planning and dreaming we have already been doing.

On Friday we were moving out of the apartment, just wrapping things up when I noticed a little blood on the toilet paper after I went to the bathroom.  I spotted with Peanut so I didn't worry too much.  It was a busy day with us moving out of the apartment and moving in with my parents.  B headed in to work and I headed to my parents where we are living for the next few weeks.  When we go there I went straight to the bathroom where I was greeted with more blood and some clotting.  I knew then.  I told my dad I had to make a run to the restaurant (as we hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy) and headed to see my doctor, calling B along the way.  That's when the cramping started.

It was odd, standing in line at Kaiser, stopping to get blood work done, exchanging smiles with the receptionist and waiting in the lobby while I was losing our baby.  The world keeps moving around you as things slowly unravel inside you.  I calmly answered 20 minutes worth of questions before my exam.  So you say you are bleeding?  Yes.  Heavily?  Um, yes, I think so.  What is your family's medical history?  What is your breast cancer history?  What do you do on every second Tuesday after a blue moon in autumn?

I think I was mostly numb by then, or maybe it was just denial.  No, it couldn't be denial, I think being a good patient is my default.  I was flying on autopilot.  I know how to be a nice, calm patient under a variety of circumstances.

When I finally rolled back for the exam, the doctor told me there was a lot of bleeding and the nurse went to get... whatever it was that she got to clean up the blood while I stared at the ceiling and thought about how I needed to shave my legs and wondered if I should apologize for my hairy legs and flakey toe nail polish. I was still calm and smiling politely when I answered questions.  I believe I very calmly said, "Damn, I thought so, I thought I felt a lot of blood.  Sorry, are you sure you want to do this exam now?"

"Yes, you're about halfway through your miscarriage."

Waitomo, New Zealand, 2010

That's when the tears came, sliding silently down my face.  When she looked up at me, I watched her face contort in slow motion.  I had been so calm she didn't realize how upset I would be.  I watched her blink back tears and then apologize to me as she placed her hand on my prickly knee.  I apologized for crying and told her I already knew.  Hearing the word miscarriage was all it took, really.  Sometimes reality really sucks.

She told me I could take something to complete the miscarriage or I could let it run it's course over the next week or two.  All I could think was that maybe it wasn't actually happening and I didn't want to kill the baby.  But it was happening and I was sitting in the pool of blood to prove it.  I think she read it on my face because she did an ultrasound to show the clotting in the uterus.  When she left I asked her for a pad and wondered out loud how it's possible that in this day and age they still hand out pads the size of airline pillows.  How can this be?  Someone answer me!

At the pharmacy I couldn't stop crying and I went back and forth between wanting to escape and wanting to tell the lady looking questioningly at me, that I was losing my baby.  I was about halfway through losing the little one I only found out about 5 days earlier.  I wanted to call B but I knew I would fall apart right there in the waiting room.  The pharmacist gave me something for the pain and paused when he read through the medicine.  I watched his face sink as he looked at the words partial miscarriage and pending miscarriage. He kept apologizing as I cried into the paper towel he brought me.

I called B from the car and he gave me what comfort he could in the middle of his shift.  I headed to my parents knowing that I couldn't keep what was happening a secret.

I was pregnant but now I'm not.  Right now, as we speak, I am having a miscarriage.  The bleeding should stop in a week or so.   Next week this will all be over.  Next week we will not be picking out names or crib bedding.

I stood in the bathroom, looking down at the toilet and it's contents, and wondered if my baby was in there.  Just the size of a sesame seed.

That night was the worst.  The blood and pain a constant reminder of what was happening.  The next day I woke to go to work and remembered that I wasn't pregnant.  I was only 5 weeks along and still it hurt.  I can only imagine what it was like for friends who have lost babies much later on.

Each day things become more final, more a part of the past and less a part of the present.

I read the email that said my labs are normal and feel detached.  Now my body no longer recognizes that I was pregnant.  Is this a good thing?  I suppose it is.

 I want it all to stop.  I don't want to see the blood anymore.  I don't want the reminder.

I'm glad it happened so early.  I realize that things probably weren't as they should have been and so my body did what was best.  I just don't want to think about it all the time.

 I don't mind talking about it with friends, I don't cry every time I think about it anymore, I just don't want to think about the why and what ifs.

For now I want to have some down time.  I want to think about the house we're moving into, about getting back into shape and creating the healthiest body I can, about swim lessons with the Peanut and date night with daddy.  For now I want to rest.