Dawn, v 36.x

I'm back from my emotional hiatus and my heart and head are back on speaking terms.  I've missed a lot, and I'm fortunate to have friends and family who continue to reach out for me and not let me go completely under when I'm so deep in my own thoughts and feeling that I don't have the energy to reciprocate.

For months, I haven't done any work to help myself through my latest crisis of losing our fifth baby.  I simply sat back, felt sorry for myself and let life happen around me.  Nearby.  It was after, on March 16, I cried all day and let the pain and loss rush through me that I wrote this letter that served as a gateway to the other side of this thing:

Dearest Sister in Law –

I wanted to write to you and say some things that I just can’t really say face to face right now.  Since Ken’s and my loss last Spring, we decided to not try to conceive another child.  I have continued to grieve the loss of the baby we conceived as well as the loss of another child in the future.  I do believe that parenting [only] our three [living] children is [logically] "best" for our family. We are overextended and stressed out as it is, and I feel our children would benefit from as much as we can offer them at this point.  Still, I continue to feel a great loss for the baby we lost and feel a void in our family that I can't seem to move beyond. 

I pretty much had an emotional meltdown all of last summer, then my due date (11/28) and the holidays were very, very difficult for me. It was in the midst of feeling this immense loss that you announced your pregnancy and, while I was and continue to be thrilled for you and for our entire family, it was difficult for me to hear.   

Our loss in 2007 was excruciating, but I view Juleana as "special". I feel that she was sent to us through our lost baby. She's our Rainbow Baby. I don't have that with my second loss. No happy ending - Only what would have been, and I don't know how to move through it.  I am moving forward - focusing on my kids, graduate school, and my marriage.  I'm excited about my life.  I can honestly say I don’t want to begin a new pregnancy, but I wish I would have been able to complete the last, and your pregnancy reminds me of what I lost and what I’ll never have the chance to finish.

*Exhale* - I wanted to tell you how I feel because I love you and don’t want you to mistake my distance for indifference.  This is my issue, and I’m dealing the best I can.  Please know I adore you guys and your little one on the way, and I’m sorry I haven’t been more excited or supportive. 

There.  I did it.  I owned my feelings.  I've embraced them, taken away their power, and let them be a part of me.  A part I can live with and no longer fear.

Our Baby Mic is a part of who I am, she's a part of our family and our history, and we'll see her whole someday.  Until then, I will be grateful that I held her for seven weeks.

What you've read is a transition - me turning toward what my future holds instead of clinging to an impossible past.

What is coming up is a story of a woman who is not defined by marriage, though you'll read about that; not defined by motherhood, though you'll read about that; not defined by her education, though you'll read about that; not defined by her career, though you'll read about that.  Not defined at all.  A woman who has yet to show the world what she has up her sleeve.  Stay tuned.

And Now

If anything, the journey over the past twelve weeks has provided me clarity. It seemed a whirlwind decision that Ken and I made when we conceived Baby Mic. The impact on our lives seemed disproportionately larger than we felt it would when we made the decision. I think we both felt in over our heads once I was pregnant, and both felt we had a moment to step back and rethink our decision once I was not.

That made sense at the time, but now I am resentful of that as well. I resent that there was ever any relief at all – that there was ever any question of whether or not a baby was a great idea. I resent Ken’s ambivalence about having another baby when I want another baby so badly. We haven’t even had the discussion, and I’m angry at the possibility that this is the end of our journey. It can’t end this way.

This voice in my brain that began as background noise and has now grown to the only thing I hear. It drowns out anything else. Everything that’s said to me – every idea and every plan is framed by wanting a baby. Do you want fries with that? Yes – and a baby. Did you know I lost mine? What are we doing the weekend of September 18? I don’t know and I don’t care. What about the baby? WHAT ABOUT THE BABY? To those around me, I’m sure I appear distracted and scattered. Really, I just can’t hear them.

Broken Again

I sought to find myself through the journey of loss and hope and got stronger day by day. Reinvented and stronger.

Eight weeks after my fateful doctor’s appointment and subsequent surgery, I steeled myself and made a purposeful trip to the doctor’s office again, this time to see my baby for the first time. When the kind ultrasound technician viewed our baby in the office two months prior, I couldn’t look for fear, and then confirmation, of what I knew. I had never seen our baby. Just felt the void of what was, then wasn’t. Gratefully, I didn’t encounter any difficulty when I went in. It was very emotional taking the elevator to the office and walking in the office that housed so many mixed emotions – 2 joyous pregnancies and 2 devastating losses. The girl at the front desk swiftly handed me a CONFIDENTIAL: envelope with my name on it, which I gingerly slid into my purse and delivered to the car.

The internal conflict was being played out in my chest and my stomach. Emotions physically fighting each other to the point of making me sick. I wanted to see Baby Mic. I wanted to know what had been. Would there be nothing there that would identify a baby’s life had begun? Would I have nothing to look back on? I wanted him or her to have been real for the brevity of his or her life. I desperately wanted to see Baby Mic. I carefully opened the envelope and started to reveal the flimsy paper that I’d seen so many times before. It was with the same caution and apprehension as I handle my memories – squinting, composing myself, deep breath – looking little by little and trying to comprehend what I’m seeing. I was afraid the physical body would not match the magnitude of Baby Mic’s spiritual presence. I was afraid he or she would not be seen or known by anyone but me. That worry was in vain, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. What I saw was my little angel, body curved into itself, head distinguishable, arms and legs fully formed. A perfect little body, suspended in mine.  It broke me again.

Any healing that had occurred felt undone and I was back to being devastated. Baby Mic wasn’t an idea, a fleeting thought, a promise. Baby Mic was a baby, and not just to me – to everyone. It was undeniable. I lost my baby, and here was the proof. Baby Mic was here and now he or she is not.

Rebuilding

After the series of events that began the doomed journey of Baby Mic come the series of events that ended her journey. The first time I bled and knew something was wrong even though I told Ken “sometimes it’s normal”. He knew something was wrong and didn’t tell me anything. Going to the doctor, literally dizzy to the point of nearly fainting and heart beating so hard and so fast that it took all my energy. Slow down. Breathe. I can’t speak; I can’t think. I have to survive this. Little by little, the information was pieced together. The bleeding was not a good sign, but it’s *possible* it was alright. I was measuring a few days behind, but nothing significant. I lay on the table, head turned from the screen, comprehending after the first 30 seconds went by and the only thing was silence. Confirmation from the doctor, who’d relayed the same story three years prior. It all came in digestible pieces. I called Mom in the parking lot of our favorite restaurant to tell her the baby was gone, but I was alright. Through tears, I told two of our children. The youngest cried and asked if we were going to have another.

It wasn’t until the following day when I was again at the very hospital where I’d delivered three live babies and one lost baby – about to have another baby taken from me against my will – that the overwhelming loss suffocated me. I was incredulous. I was angry. I was breathless. I had a headache. I had heartache. Fix that. Give me anesthesia and let me sleep through that.


The focus over the following week or so was on my physical healing, and the condolences and support poured in – sustaining me. I was in the midst of a life changing transformation – in the deepest despair, underwater; not knowing which way was up. Confused, hurt, but for the first time in a long time, in a position to think about what I wanted from this point forward. It was “back to basics”. I was rebuilding my life on a platform of gratitude. I wanted to write, I wanted to volunteer, I wanted to eat my babies up – hug them, kiss them, spend time with them. I immersed myself in my life and the things that had always brought me joy. I felt exposed and raw, and I was starting from scratch. I was filling in the void with gratitude. It was liberating.

The Beginning of Baby Mic

When I made the decision to try for a fourth child and approached Ken with the proposition, I was reeling from the bad in this world, and needing an antidote. I was feeling nostalgic; feeling mercifully blessed and wanted to multiply that feeling. I wanted to give more good to this world, because I could, and to those I love. I wanted to bring more light and love to our lives – to give my children another sibling, to give my parents another grandchild, and to have one more thing to live for, to love for.

Those feeling continue to pervade my reality, and are even stronger now that we got a glimpse of how meaningful this little life was and how much joy our Rainbow Baby would bring. As part of my unending loop of thoughts, I play, over and over, the day I told my Mom by showing her a photo of my positive pregnancy test on my phone. I play the day that we told the kids at dinner. I play the day I told Ken by giving him a card and the positive test. I play the day I posted on facebook and congrats poured in – jubilant for our family. Each moment, I was so proud for all of us and so sure that adding another little person would make this great thing even greater. It would make me a better mother; Ken a better father. It would make our world better. It would make the world better. I watch these scenes in my head kind of like I’m watching a horror movie – with my hands over my eyes, peeking through the cracks in my fingers, and looking away when it’s too much.

I feel like I’ve let everyone down now and the world isn’t as great as it could be and it’s my fault. It’s not that I feel I don’t have enough. I am blessed more times over than I deserve or ever could have imagined. It just isn’t all that it could be. All that it should be.

The Gravity of Loss

Then what? I didn’t know and I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t think about lost Baby Mic or any other baby because it was too much. Predictably, not thinking about it wasn’t an option. As is my nature, I silently fixated. I slipped on a tight fitting low cut dress for a friend’s wedding, put a drink in my hand, and tried to live outside of my thoughts for a while. Tried to not wish I were donning a maternity dress. Tried to not think I would be nineteen weeks along. Tried to not want to talk about such a morbid thing during such a celebratory weekend. I packed for our family trip to Disney, trying to relish my family and the opportunity to get away, without constantly thinking about the fact that I would have been twenty weeks along and would have given Baby Mic a proper name by now, consistent with his or her gender. When asked by people in the park – “what are you having?” I would have been able to tell them this little one’s name.

By this point, I began to think of little else. Every action or reaction was centered on a baby – the lost baby and the thought that there may never be another. The feeling that I may have missed my chance forever. I honed in on pregnant bellies with resentment and newborns with longing. What I wouldn’t give to have never miscarried and what I wouldn’t give to not be in the position of making this decision all over again. I shouldn’t have to make this decision all over again. I should be twenty two weeks pregnant now. It’s unfair and I’m profoundly depressed and feeling wildly unsettled. I’m without reigns – without an anchor – just desperately trying to make sense of things again.

Living Without

The above page was written somewhere around 2 months ago, not long after my loss of Baby Mic. I think there’s a soft place after a loss where you’re filled with adrenaline, and you’re lifted by friends and family. The loss is raw, but surreal. I was a little self-involved, and very self-preservative. The real struggle, and the one that has followed for me, is learning to live with the loss. The deepest depths were yet to come.

At first, not being pregnant anymore felt like a vacation from pregnancy. I figured we would grieve the loss and move on. It’s the moving on that’s proving extraordinarily difficult. Our loss provided us the opportunity to take pause and catch our breath and think about what’s best for our family. Something spooked Ken in the early weeks of my pregnancy. I don’t know what, but he seemed relieved when I miscarried. I focused on the positive when I miscarried. I would be able to spend the summer in my body without worry about the baby. I would be able to have drinks at my friends’ weddings, I would be able to ride Tower of Terror at Hollywood Studios. It would be the best of both worlds. I would enjoy the summer to the fullest, and then . . .

Transition

May 2010 -

I’m here in front of the computer, on the verge of tears, yet giddy. That’s my existence, of late. Bipolar. One moment, I’m enticed by the freedom of not being pregnant and by the possibilities that lie ahead. I think about all the things I’ve put on hold in my life and see now as the opportunity to reclaim those opportunities that I’ve always thought of as pieces to my identity. On the other end of my bipolar spectrum is the desire to have another child. Right now, out of self-preservation, I am avoiding the issue in my head. It is pervasive and I know I’m not avoiding it. The loss is insistent and ever present. It edges in on the rest of my thoughts – coloring them and changing them. Still, I won’t meet the thought head on, because I just don’t want to cry. I just don’t want to right now, and every time I begin to allow myself to think about the fact that I’m not going to have a baby in November and allow myself to think about the loss our family has been dealt, the tears come from the pit of my stomach. It’s easier to focus on what I CAN do now and push down the bad.


The coping isn’t all bad. One of the indulgences I’m reclaiming is my writing. I’ve always identified myself as a “writer”, though I’ve never written for anyone but myself. Let me rephrase that. I think any true writer only writes for him/herself and just hopes someone can be touched by his/her words. I’ve never attempted to get published. Anyway – the fact that I’m writing, and I’m writing through this loss and time of transition will inevitably lead me back to facing the hole head on. Writing will just archive the process. Writing will also expedite the process, because writing is an exercise where your thoughts speak to you and lead you to your reality. There are no shortcuts. There is no denial. Only truth. It’s free and highly effective therapy.

Why have I considered myself a writer, aside from my love affair with grammar? Because my life is a constant narrative. It’s as if I’m telling my story all day every day. It reminds me of a voice over in a movie. My thoughts interpreted, twisted in my head as events happen around me. Retelling my story, my way. I attempt to relate those events to my life, even if they are my life. I’ve always felt like I was in the third row of the movie theater watching my life on screen. Never on stage – never the star – always the narrator. So stuck in my head and my thoughts that sometimes I miss out on important scenes. It’s exhausting and either the source of my anxiety or the symptom. I haven’t figured out which, and I probably never will.

XO
ME

The "After"

After my first miscarriage in 2007, I didn't think I could feel the ignorant bliss that went along with expecting a baby without expecting the worst.  The new mantra is typically one that accompanies most signature lines on iVillage of women who are expecting following a loss - "Faith Over Fear". 

Surprisingly to me, I had regained that innocence and that excitement.  That faith.  I was certain, despite my muted morning sickness, that this pregnancy was going well and we were on our way to parenthood again.  I was consumed with and comfortable with being pregnant once again. 

Three days later after my previous post on April 20, that faith would be tested when I began to spot blood.  Nine days later, that faith would be shattered when our little one's heartbeat would not be found on ultrasound.  Ten days later, the pregnancy would come to an end on an operating table.

The following posts will take you through the journey from then to now.

Milestone

As I wrote the post just prior to this one - I realized . . .

I am 8 weeks 2 days, which is what I was when I had the ultrasound in 2007 that showed our July Baby had no heartbeat.  It was also a Tuesday. 

I haven't seen my doctor yet, but feel completely optimistic about this pregnancy, as I sit here dizzy, nauseous, and feeling like the living dead (in a good way).  No terrible cramping, no bleeding.  This is in stark contrast to my last pregnancy where I was so paralyzed by fear and loss that I couldn't enjoy the pregnancy and couldn't bond with my little girl.  I'm glad I've had a chance for a "do over".

XODAWN

BFP

Much has happened since my last post and I probably should have blogged about it. ;-) I got my first BFP (Big Fat Positive) on Wednesday, March 17 – St. Patrick’s Day! My AF (Aunt Flow) wasn’t due until somewhere between the 21st and 24th, so I spent the next week obsessing about a possible chemical pregnancy and took a grand total of 11 pregnancy tests to see if the “line” got darker. It did, I officially missed my period, and thus my fifth pregnancy began.


I am now about 8 weeks 2 days pregnant and started coping with morning sickness about two weeks ago. I’ll be the first to admit that my memory is not great at all, but I believe I was much more sick with the girls than I am with this pregnancy, so I’m wondering if this means we’ll be blessed with a boy. With Brendyn – 15 years ago – I didn’t have morning sickness too bad. Other than the queasiness, food aversions, and extreme exhaustion, things appear to be going well. I have had no spotting and only the typical pregnancy abdominal discomfort.

I am really relaxed about this pregnancy and ready to enjoy it, as it is certainly my LAST.  The next seven months will be such a brief moment in time – I will cherish every moment. Ok, most moments.  I have gained weight during the time we were trying to conceive Baby Mic, so sadly I’m growing out of my “pre-pregnancy” clothes. I’m not legally, ethically, or morally ready for maternity clothes, but have already submitted to several pair of pants, just because they’re way more comfortable and I’m above pride at this point.

My first appointment with Dr. Hulsen, who delivered El and Jule, is on April 29. I will establish with him, go ahead and get the NT Scan and probably the mid-pregnancy anatomy scan (at 20 weeks) while I seek out a practitioner and facility who will cater more to my desires for the birth I want.

I look forward to blogging my way through this journey and sharing the highs and lows that come with becoming a Mommy to four. XODAWN

Bored

Now 20 days into the second cycle and getting a little "over" the TTC hype.  It's pretty mentally exhausting to think about it as much as you need to think about it to be considered "obsessive", which is the category under which I fell last month.

Due to life pulling us in different directions this month, Ken and I missed out on certain opportunities.  I don't have high hopes that this will be our month to start spreading the news.  That said, stranger things have happened (getting pregnant the first and third time, for instance, while on birth control).  I still have to wait another twelve days to know for sure. 

The fantasy of influence

After testing again last night, now four days before all hopes are dashed for this cycle, and getting a negative, I’m focusing my sights on next month.


Fact: Aside from knowing the right time to dance the big dance, 99.99% of becoming pregnant is out of our hands.

That said - we’re women. We hold jobs, we run households, we’re strong, we’re capable. We are in control. Well, we were. Now, we’re at the mercy of God, the Universe, Mother Nature, our husband, our body, our libido, his libido, our schedules, and the alignment of the stars. We’re incapable of sitting back and letting things happen – incapable of releasing control in just one area of our life.

Simple solution – we don’t relinquish the reigns. We hold on tight. Logically, we may know that getting knocked up has to be an act of God, but we run a close second and we’re going to do everything possible to make it happen. These efforts include but are not limited to:

Charting your cycle by watching for fertility signs
Ovulation Predictors
Dancing with the girl on bottom
Elevating the baby arena on a pillow for 20 minutes after dancing
Taking Robitussin cough syrup
Eating fresh pineapple
Eating French fries
Eating baby carrots
Making sure the woman, ahem, really, really enjoys the dance
Reducing stress
Not Smoking
Not Drinking
Using Pre-seed
Using “Instead” brand Softcups

There are more, but these are some of the oldest and dearest.

I’m in no position to say if any of this really, really works, but I can say that it makes the journey to conception a little easier. It gives women a toolbox to pull from that helps them feel powerful in a powerless situation. Well, now that I’ve made my shopping list, I’m off to the store . . .

Patience is also a form of action. ~ Auguste Rodin

Patience is also a form of action. ~ Auguste Rodin.

I may get a mug with this on it, and stare at it all day while I drink my decaf coffee and water.

This helps remind me that the process of creating little Michael(a) began way before sperm meets egg.  In the immediate context, the act of bringing a new little life into the world began with the decision to have a fourth child.  That decision then led to "actively trying to conceive", which will eventually result in conception.  Right now, typing this post, I'm actively working on getting little one here in my arms.  I'm readying myself emotionally and mentally, I'm taking care of myself, taking prenatals, and I'm living today, which puts me one day closer to the next chance I get to introduce sperm and egg.  ;-) 

On a more zen, abstract level, Michael or Michaela's spirit has been pushed closer and closer to us beginning with the birth of his/her older brother, his/her older sisters, and his/her spirit sibling who never came to earth.

Sometimes our family gets so caught up in talking about our kids' new baby brother/sister that we must sound like (s)he is already here.  I catch myself and think it odd for a moment.  However, (s)he already has a place in our hearts, and it's just a matter of time until (s)he is here with us.  That's how all my babies started - a thought.  A yearning.  The baby bug.  All of my children grew first in my heart and head, then in my body.  I imagined what they looked like before I laid eyes on them.  I imagined what they smelled like before I held them close to me.  I imagined what they would sound like before I heard them laugh (and cry!).  I imagined what they would live like before I began to raise them.  This fourth child is no different.  I'm in the beginning stages of parenting.  Again.

Statistics that say it can take up to 12 months for a healthy couple to conceive.  An average, for a healthy couple, of 4 - 5 months.  In that respect, Ken and I are on our second month.  We're putting in our time.  We're halfway there.

Statistics, unfortunately, also state that things can go wrong more frequently in a woman of AMA (advanced maternal age).  I hope that we only have to go through the journey of getting a positive pregnancy test one more time.  Though I know it's possible, I really don't want to endure another miscarriage.  If waiting for the perfect sperm and the perfect egg to unite will put Baby M on solid ground, I'll wait for that.

I'll pass the time with dreaming of the great things my children will do and the great people they will be come.  All four of them.

BFN

So, I've been testing like a crazy person.  I'm not sure what that was about, but it was a little bit experimental.  My fertility history is that I've gotten pregnant twice on birth control, and twice the "first try".  So, I guess I got a little overconfident and thought instead of seeing IF I was pregnant, I'd see how early I could get a BFP (big fat positive).  A mentality of - just how fertile am I?  Anyway . . . I guess all of the negative pregnancy tests (8 leading up to the BIG fat negative) prepared me a little for the ultimate letdown today.  The official test day.  The official negative. 

I'm still "in the game" so to speak, since my period (AF [Aunt Flow]) isn't due until Monday, but I'm not hopeful.  Again, this is history talking.  My "on purpose" tests have shown up well before my period was due, so I take that to mean that they all will.  I suppose I could just wait to see if I'm "late" like normal, not obsessed people do.  That's my new plan.  My Plan B(FP).  ;-)

I'm shifting my focus, for now, to health.  I'm going to try and figure out some ways to move more throughout the day and hit my daily burn on my bodybugg.  I'm looking at Jillian's 30 Day Shred DVD.  I was worried about the intensity of it and how it would affect little one if I get pregnant (before I know I'm pregnant), but from what I've read, it's alright to work out hard.  It will make me feel like this time is put to good use and will make for a happier pregnant lady, come February.  :-)

So, the obsession has died down a little for now - I'll see you on the flip side of ovulation . . .

The Longest Month. Ever.

Seriously.  Does every 28 days last this long?  Even with the distraction of the holidays, work, and three kids, I still manage to focus my mental energy on only one thing - am I or aren't I? 

I have 2 days until it's "conceivably" possible that I get a positive pregnancy test, 9 days until it's certain I would get a positive test.  That said, I've already tested 4 times.  I guess I'm hoping I'm a freak of nature and get my positive pregnancy test hours after conception.

The ironic thing is, it really is alright with me if I don't get pregnant this month.  I really want to lose a lot more weight, and would really feel better going into a new pregnancy healthy.  Every month that goes by puts me 8 pounds closer to my goal weight. 

It's just the "not knowing" that's killing me.  Really. 

Hopefully, the next post will be an update that will tell one way or the other.  Until then...

Obsess Much?

We are getting into the window of opportunity on our first month of trying - to think that conception could happen any day now is making me crazier than usual.

I'm watching the calendar, wandering to Expecting Clubs and wanting to get that positive pregnancy test so much.  I feel like it should happen this month, because it's happened the first try every other time, but I also know we were so very fortunate for that.  I know it's not always that easy, but it has been in our experience.

Ken's asking me every day if I "feel anything going on".  LOL.  I try and keep him in the dark as much as possible (no pun intended), because I don't want our time together to be a mission.  I don't want it to feel different.  He's anxious, though.  I think that's fun.  :-)

On the flip side, I'm also focusing on health and fitness.  I got my bodybugg for Christmas and I'm loving the new fitness gadget!  I'm aiming to lose mucho weight, so each month that I don't conceive at least puts me 5 - 10 pounds closer to being a healthier weight.  So, there's that.  I'm completely off caffeine and alcohol, taking prenatals, and working out within recommended limits, so that it will be a seamless transition from TTC to pregnancy.

I am two weeks away from even possibly testing, so it will be an exercise in patience, which we all know I lack.  ;-)  That's why we exercise patience, though, right?  To get better and stronger.  We've enjoyed talking about adding to our family, planning for it - we told the kids last week about our plans.  There were mixed reactions there.  Bren was pretty much shocked and kept asking why we wanted ANOTHER.  He feels like everything's good now, I think, and doesn't know why we'd want it to change.  El was very excited about another baby and wants to sleep with "him".  LOL.  So, we'll enjoy this time of looking forward to becoming a family of six, without the morning sickness and while my waistline is decreasing instead of expanding...  ;-)

Ode to Caffeine

Prior to the last two pregnancies that were planned (d'oh!), I went off caffeine completely (and on prenatals) before we started TTC.  I'm doing this again this time - the largest part of this is so that I can rid my body of caffeine, which is a pregnancy no no, gradually and not shock my poor system.  The second part is so that I feel I'm "doing something" to help get the ball rolling on having another baby.

Unfortunately, since getting back on the juice after weaning Jule, I've developed quite a liking for caffeine in all shapes and forms, and I'm having a very hard time giving up my vice.  To bid a fair farewell to my much missed companion, I've written a fitting poem...

Ode to Caffeine


You are my friend, my drug of norm
you help me face my day
always there, in many a form
At home or far away.

The little baby can’t partake
For now we must part days
the little baby you may break.
with your naughty stimulant ways

A headache I’m sure I’ll suffer
as we say farewell
not having you will make me tougher.
though I’m sure it will be Hell.

I’ll miss you in the days ahead
when pregnancy exhaustion is here
I’ll feel so tired, like the living dead
Abandoned by you, I fear.

Until we meet again, take care
I’ll be counting day by day
Once the baby’s not so fair
I’ll have you here to stay

*sniff, sniff* I’ll miss you, C.

Genesis

I’m inviting you into my life, and into my bedroom. Well, sort of. Ken and I have decided to add to our family and give Bren, El, and Jule a brother or sister - God willing. I say “God willing” because Ken and I are well aware that we are so very, very blessed to have three healthy children. We accept that immense and overwhelming responsibility earnestly and never a day goes by that we take it for granted. Anyone who knows me at all, knows that my thoughts are loud and relentless and I have a tendency to ruminate (ok, obsess). This time, I’m bringing you along for the roller coaster ride from trying to conceive through birth and beyond. Save for a few intimate details, you will be privy to the entire goings on throughout our house and throughout our journey. Who knows what will happen?

While I know those in our inner circle will appreciate the sentiment, I also hope to reach out to all the obsessive folks who are in any stage of parenting whatsoever – trying to conceive (the dreaded two week wait, buying pregnancy tests in bulk – you know who you are!), or trying to cope with a teenager (one moment a child, one moment a man, he’s Teenzilla!). Chances are, I’ve been there, done that, and can offer some insight. And frankly, I can use all the help I can get, so I’ll be reaching out to all of you wise parents for advice and moral support.

For those who don’t know my family’s background, I’ll give you the short version so you know all the players. We’ll all get to know each other more as time goes on. Ken and I both work full-time in the IT industry, where we met at work ten years ago. We’ve been married since Fall of 2002. I have a son, Ken’s bonus son, who just turned fourteen. Yikes. Ken and I have two daughters together – Elizabeth, who is 5, and Juleana who just celebrated her first birthday. We treasured our “July Baby” for five short weeks in November of 2007, until I miscarried at 9 weeks. I am entering this new adventure of trying to get pregnant a fifth time with an open mind and an open heart, a sense of adventure and a sense of humor. I am relaxed and ready to enjoy every moment. I hope you are too.

As far as babies, I have experience in a lot of different areas, and would like to use this blog to share that experience and as an opportunity to hear new ideas throughout what will [probably] be my last pregnancy. ;-)

Please stop by often, and post comments regularly so I know I’m not talking to myself.

XO
Dawn