and - just like that - my family is incomplete once more...

I have obviously not been posting anything this summer, and for the most part, that has been due to our newest little family member keeping me busy, busy, busy. But for the past month, that has not been the only reason I've been quiet on here.

Just when our family had finally become complete with the arrival of baby Luciana, and just as I was getting settled into the new way of things with her, and enjoying the summer with her and Super Boy, terrible tragedy struck.

On the afternoon of August 8th, I received a phone call I never, ever wanted to get from my stepmom, saying that my dad had been in a motorcycle accident earlier in the afternoon and did not survive. My dad was gone.

Hearing those words was surreal. Unless and until you've heard them yourself, you cannot fathom the soul-searing grief that comes with them. In fact, there's those few moments right after those words curl up in your ears when you can't quite comprehend them, when your brain hasn't quite caught up with them yet. I had to ask my stepmom to repeat them at first because it didn't seem possible that she had really said what I heard.

I happened to be nursing the baby when the call came. I was sitting up in the baby's room, in the rocking chair, quietly feeding the baby and enjoying a restful moment. The phone rang; I could hear it, but the upstairs cordless was in my bedroom. I heard Super Boy answer it downstairs, and heard him coming up the stairs to bring the phone to me. He said, "Mom, it's Grandma R." Upon hearing it was her, I chuckled, because we had just emailed that morning and I told her to let Dad know I was going to call him that afternoon. In fact, the baby was falling asleep while I was feeding her, so I had planned to lay her down and then call him. When I took the phone, I greeted her the way I always did: "Hey, Bud! What's up?"

I don't know how she got the words out, I really don't. In the deepest depths of her own shock and despair, she had to call me, my older sister and my younger brother to tell us the horrible news that our dad was dead. I give her a ton of credit for finding the strength in those moments to make those phone calls; I don't know if I could have done it had it been me.

When it finally hit me what she was saying, that my dad was gone, I instantly felt like I wanted to get as far out of my own skin as I possible could, as far away from that moment, that news, as possible. My mind whirled and raced, making no sense whatsoever. I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what to say. Keening wails rose from my toes, out of nowhere, and wouldn't stop.

My dad was gone.

My stepmom kept telling me how sorry she was, and finally something brought me back into my right mind again so I could tell her how sorry I was for her, too, to lose her husband. As enormous a hole as losing my dad was leaving in me, I knew it was just as bad if not worse for her, losing her partner in life, the person she had planned to grow old with. My dad was only 62; far too young to be gone, or to leave my stepmom a widow.

I asked her what happened. She was still in such shock herself that she couldn't remember everything the sheriff's deputy had told her at the hospital, but she told me what she did recall.

My dad had been riding his motorcycle just outside of the small town in northern Wisconsin where they lived, on a two-lane highway, and the person driving the vehicle ahead of him had stopped to wait for traffic to clear from the north so she could turn left. Rosie didn't know whether the driver stopped at the last second or my dad hadn't been paying attention, but either way, my dad didn't have enough time to react safely. God bless my dad, he must have realized he couldn't brake fast enough, so instead, he tried to lay his Harley down, knowing he'd be injured to some extent but he'd be sparing whoever was in the vehicle ahead. Unfortunately, he hadn't worn his helmet that day. But the sheriff's deputy told my stepmom that he was unresponsive when authorities got to the scene and he died quickly.

What has haunted me since receiving that phone call, what has kept me awake at night, is wondering what his final moments felt like for him. Did he know he was probably going to die? Did he feel any of what happened between when he decided to lay the bike down and when he actually drew his last breath? What did he think of as it was happening? Did he know how much we all loved him?

Nothing can prepare a person for such a sudden loss, much less one so traumatic. Especially when one thinks one has at least another 20 years with their loved one, as I did.

Tomorrow will be one month since my dad died. Intellectually, I know he's gone. Emotionally, I still cannot believe it. It just doesn't make sense. It's not right. He should still be here. I need him; we all need him. Nothing else has changed except that he is not where he is supposed to be, and never will be again.

I dream of him. In the dreams, he is alive at first, and I am so happy to see him, but then I remember that I'm not supposed to be able to see him because he's really not alive anymore. And my heart aches, and I wake up in tears.



I miss my dad. I miss him so much, it hurts. I want to hear his voice, to get one of his great dad hugs. To tell him how much I love him and how proud I have been to be his daughter. He wasn't a perfect man, and he often drove me nuts, but he was my dad. And he was a good dad.

I love you so much, Pappy. I will miss you every moment of every day for the rest of my life. Wherever you are, I hope you know that. Thank you, for everything.



SW

she's here!!

Alright, before I get into the details of announcing our little girl's arrival, let me first apologize PROFUSELY for not posting in MONTHS, considering my last post was put up 8 days before my scheduled C-section.

Not that I think any of you have been feverishly checking this blog daily waiting for the great news, but if any of you HAVE been doing that, my sincerest apologies for the long, LONG delay.

As you might imagine, things have been a bit hectic around here getting settled in with the new baby, and what little time I've had really and truly to myself has generally been spent on one of three activities: showering, using the bathroom and sleeping!

Anyhoo, without further ado...

I'm thrilled and elated to finally announce the birth of our baby girl, Luciana Ava!!



Little Luciana joined us on 05.11.11 at 8:03am, via scheduled repeat C-section, weighing 8 lbs. 14 oz. and measuring 20.5 inches long. For the record, that is 3.5 oz. heavier and a half-inch shorter than her big brother was at birth! Oddly enough, she LOOKED much more petite and lean than her big brother did at birth, so you can imagine how shocked I was when they said she was 8-14. She has a head full of dark hair (as did her big brother and big sister), pretty blue eyes, Mommy's eyes, lips and frame, Daddy's coloring and silly toe, and basically looks a whole lot like her big brother did as a newborn.

She is a sweet and lovely little baby, such a snuggler, with a very fun personality. She smiles and giggles, makes silly little faces, and she actually "squeaks", thus earning her the nickname "Squeaker" from me. She also does a startlingly accurate penguin imitation when she grunts and stretches, and coos in response to your cooing when she's falling asleep, and it's just too, too sweet for words.

In a nutshell, this little sweet pea has wrapped Mommy, Daddy, big brother, big sister, all of her grandmas and grandpas, and virtually everyone else who has met her around her dainty, petite little fingers. Which is just as it should be.



After everything we went through to bring this little miracle into our lives, I cannot tell you how worth the wait she was, or how grateful I am that our dream came true. The moment Luciana was delivered and I heard her first cry, all I could think was "thank you, thank you, thank you, God!" Super Man and I were both in tears as we marveled over her beauty and perfection, and the gratitude we felt was overwhelming. We knew full well how much we wanted this baby in our lives, but the actual feelings that came with beholding her for the first time were even greater than we anticipated - only then did we fully realize just how much we loved her and how truly and fully thrilled we were to welcome her into our lives.

I am so grateful for the doctors & nurses and the pharmaceutical and medical technology that helped us make our dream come true. I am so grateful for the family and friends who stood by us and supported us unconditionally through thick and thin, better and worse, happiness and depression as we traveled the often difficult course on our long journey of five years to get here. I'm so thankful for Super Girl and Super Boy for never losing hope, for their excitement and love and support of our efforts, and for loving their baby sister wholly and completely (even when she keeps them awake at night and takes so much of my attention to meet her basic needs!). I am thankful for Super Man, for seeing how much this meant to me and staying the course with me, even when the going got tough. I'm so glad we're going through this life together, with all of its good and bad.

And I'm thankful for those of you who have gone through secondary infertility, in the past and/or the present, for understanding what it is like and giving me comfort, for sharing your own stories, and for continuing to persevere. I've said it before and will say it again: Miracles DO happen. Keep believing. Keep faith.

And to my little Luciana - I love you more than you'll ever know. Thank you for finally coming to us and completing our formerly Incomplete Family!!

All the love in the world,
Super Woman

8 days

I write this post 8 days away from my scheduled C-section, yet praying fervently that the baby will decide to come sooner than that because I am soooooo ready for her to come out and play!!

Honestly, I thought she'd have come by now. I think my pre-term hospitalization for contractions at almost 34 weeks sort of convinced me that we wouldn't even make it to May, much less May 11th. Then again, the Universe likes to screw with me, so we probably will make it to May 11th! Which is fine, really, except that I was really hoping to have a little extra time to recover from having the baby before Super Boy's First Communion on the 15th. Oh well - we'll roll with it, one way or the other.

Still, it's so strange to be so close to bringing this baby into the world. You forget what it's like when there are so many years between your first and your second.

There is of course the extreme excitement and anticipation, knowing the end of the pregnancy and the new beginning of a new precious life are so close at hand. You can't wait to see and hold and touch your baby, to forever imprint them in your mind and your heart, to fall in love with them and get to know them fully and completely. You look forward to them integrating into the family, blending into the fold so seamlessly that you literally can't remember a time when they weren't there. I can't wait to peek into her room and see her in her crib, to take her for walks in her stroller or one of the baby slings/carriers, to snuggle her as she nurses, to smell her fresh from a bath. Those cravings are so strong they're physical at this point -- I want my baby on the outside, in my arms, and I'm READY.

But there's also some anxiety and trepidation about getting that precious new life out of your body and into the world. And for me, those feelings are particularly acute because I'm not sure which way she'll come and am finding it tricky to prepare for the unknown. If we make it to 5/11, it will for sure be a C-section. If not, I plan to try for a VBAC if the circumstances are favorable. But even then I'm nervous because I tried for a vaginal birth with Super Boy and failed miserably after 30 hours of labor and a stuck, sunny-side-up baby. That stays with you - trust me! And I don't look forward to the prospect of the surgery any more than I do a long or difficult vaginal birth, because I remember the pain and discomfort of the recovery, and how frustrating it was to be restricted from driving for 2 weeks and from lifting for even longer. As much as a woman's body already changes after pregnancy, it changes even more after a C-section -- everything in the midsection is weaker and less tight than it once was, so it's not even a matter of getting through the 6-8 weeks of "typical" recovery, but the many more months of rebuilding the muscular connections and strength. Add to that the fact that my life was much simpler when Super Boy was born -- I didn't have another child to care for or another schedule to work around then. Now we have Super Boy to care for and his school, soccer and baseball schedules to take into consideration, so the faster I'm back in action, the easier it will be all around.

I'm also still sick with a bad cold/cough & sinus infection, so I'm on antibiotics for that now and hoping to feel SIGNIFICANTLY better very soon. The timing of me getting sick with this could not have been worse. It's ironic, too, because I made it through almost the entire past 9 months with only 1 other cold & sinus infection and 1 UTI, plus a few bouts of stomach upset (not full-blown stomach flu/gastroenteritis, thank God!). I just hope to be healthy - or at least healthiER - by the time the baby arrives so I'm not exposing her and I get off to a good start health-wise as I recover.

One of the other strange things about being in this final home stretch of the pregnancy is that I never know what each day will bring. When I go to bed at night, I have no idea if my water will break during the night or if contractions will begin, and the same goes for when I wake up each morning. I take Super Boy to school not knowing if I'll be the person picking him up at the end of the day, which is odd. Super Boy had two soccer games last weekend and as I said goodbye to the other parents, they asked if they'd be seeing me at this weekend's games, and it's so strange not knowing for sure whether they will or not! Anything could happen at any time, and I'm just trying to be as prepared as possible for any outcome.

I will of course continue to update here. I will be 38 weeks tomorrow and I have my 38-week check-up with my OB on Friday, if we get that far. At my 37-week appointment I was still only dilated 2cm with no effacement, so we'll see what this week's appointment has in store! And once the baby comes, I will try to post fairly quickly to let you all know.

Thanks for following me on this journey of many years - it means so much to me to hear from you, and please know that I'm always sending out baby vibes for those who are still struggling to complete their families. You're not alone!!

SW

we made it: 37 weeks = full-term baby!

I am thrilled to say that I am 37 weeks pregnant today, which means Baby Girl is now full-term and welcome to come any time now!

Seriously. Baby Girl, you are really and truly welcome to come along now. The sooner the better, really.

No, really. I'm begging you. Come soon.

Can you tell that I'm eager to meet my baby? No? Huh - I was really trying to be clear about that.

In all seriousness, I am ready. I have loved - LOVED - being pregnant again. It hasn't been an easy pregnancy at times, and certainly not as easy as my pregnancy with Super Boy was, but it was all worth it, every single second of it. The extreme constipation. The bloody noses. The scary episodes of contractions including the hospitalization and medication to stop them a few weeks back. The passing out while driving. None of that is ideal or something a mom-to-be hopes to go through, but we survived it and both of us are still intact, so it's all okay in the end.

But I'm ready to meet my daughter. I've been ready to meet my daughter for over 5 years now, since we first started trying for another baby. And now, after 9 long months of pregnancy, I'm ready to be done being pregnant and to just enjoy life with my baby in the world and our family complete at long last.

The baby's room is all set-up, decorated and ready for her to settle into. We have all the gear we need for her at this point. Her car seat is installed in my Odyssey. Her nuks, snot-suckers and the few bottles I plan to use are sterilized and ready, as are the necessary parts of my breast pump. Her diaper bag is packed and my hospital bag is mostly ready. Super Boy is crazy-excited to meet his baby sister. Super Man is (mostly) ready to be a new daddy again at 45. We're ready and waiting.

I've had occasional contractions here and there over the past week, but nothing organized or consistent. Still, at my 36-week check-up last Friday, I was already dilated to 2cm, so I'm hopeful that if I get to my 37-week check-up this Friday I will be a little further along (ideally, enough so that they'll just send me next door to the hospital!). I've had a lot of pain on my cervix, though whether it's from cervical change or the baby tap-dancing on it, I can't be sure.

I'll tell you a little something though: I secretly think that the baby will either come this Friday, April 29th or next Tuesday, May 3rd. That might sound silly, I know, but I'll explain why I think that: It's all in the numbers of the rest of our birthdays. Mine is January 29th, Super Girl's is February 29th, Super Man's is March 13th and Super Boy's is May 23rd. Super Girl (my stepdaughter) and I were both born on the 29th days of our months, so maybe MY daughter will also come on the 29th of this month (and I may have mentioned this before, but I always hoped our last child would be an April baby so we'd have January/February/March/April/May covered). In addition to that, Super Boy's birthday was on a Friday and that worked out great, so it might be nice to have this baby on a Friday, too. On the other hand, Super Man and Super Boy both have birth dates ending in 3, and since this is my daughter with Super Man, maybe she's meant to be the final 3 in the bunch. I'll be really curious to see if I'm right about one of the two upcoming dates, that's all I can say! However, if the baby doesn't come on either of them, and she doesn't come before May 10th on her own, we have our C-section scheduled for the morning of May 11th.

Which would be totally fine - I know that it's only better for her the longer she stays inside and keeps growing. But I also think it would take off some of the pressure if she came a LITTLE sooner than May 11th, because as you might recall, Super Boy has his First Communion on Sunday, May 15th. If the baby were to come in the next week or two, that would buy me an extra week or two to recover and get into somewhat of a routine with the baby before Super Boy's big day, allowing us all to relax and enjoy it a bit more, you know? Regardless, it's out of our hands! We'll just have to roll with whatever happens whenever it happens.

Now, in the meantime, I need to get over the cold-from-hell that I came down with over the weekend before the baby comes so I don't get her sick, too! This stupid cold has been miserable: I can't breathe through my nose, so I'm perpetually mouth-breathing, which means I'm drinking TONS of liquid to keep my throat moist and to keep from getting dehydrated, and which also means that I'm peeing 10 times more frequently -- day AND night. I kid you not, I actually got up to pee FIVE TIMES the other night, not to mention all the times I woke up to blow my nose because despite the massive congestion, my nose was also running. I'm exhausted. Exhausted and congested and just sick of being sick!

Please keep us in your prayers that all goes well these next few weeks and that the baby makes a safe arrival into the world, healthy and well!

SW

35 weeks

Wow, I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last wrote here. My apologies! The only explanation I have to offer up for my absence is that I've been nesting like a maniac over here, not to mention the little unexpected hospital admission for contractions at almost 34 weeks (more on those in a bit), but I'm happy to say that all is well right now!

As of today, I am 35 weeks and 1 day pregnant, so we have less than 4 weeks left until we meet our baby girl. Can I tell you how excited I am?? I'm GIDDY at the thought, people. You have NO IDEA.

I think about the baby constantly. I have been driving my husband and son nuts in my quest to get her room ready for her, and to get all the essentials purchased and in place for her arrival. (Seriously, there were maybe 2 weeks there where I thought Super Man might actually go insane because I was all "we've got to get this done - we've got to get that done - NOW!") I spend hours daydreaming about what the baby will be like, I love "window shopping" online and looking at all the cute girly clothes, and I can't stop thinking about what our life will be like with her in it. Oh - and we're still obsessing over what we're going to name her (and yet we're no closer to having ONE NAME chosen). At least we've got it narrowed down to three names, so that's a start!

Before I get off on a tangent about that, let me just tell you what all I've been up to lately!

Baby Super Girl is taking Super Boy's old bedroom, which is right next to my and Super Man's bedroom, and we've moved Super Boy into what was our guest room/playroom (we've always referred to it as The Back Bedroom as it's at the back of the house, but Super Boy is now VERY quick to correct me when I call it that rather than Super Boy's Room). Super Boy is THRILLED with the new sleeping arrangements, to say the least. He has wanted The Back Bedroom as his bedroom f-o-r-e-v-e-r, and has been sleeping back there for the past few months anyway, so it was a pretty natural transition for him. Which was a HUGE relief to me and Super Man because although Super Boy is very excited for his baby sister to arrive and seems to be doing really well with the changes that have already come about in preparation for her arrival (not the least of which is my completely altered shape!), we know it will be a huge adjustment for him once she's actually HERE and it's no longer just him and us.

No, this bedroom move was met with elation on his part, so that went very smoothly. Unfortunately, given that The Back Bedroom was the spare room, its closet became the catch-all closet, where things we didn't have room for anywhere else ended up. And by things, I mean a LOT of things! Clothes, pillows, blankets, sleeping bags, Halloween costumes, duffle bags, fitness things (hand weights, medicine balls, the big exercise ball, etc.). And ALL of that had to be cleared out so I could move Super Boy's clothes and things from his old closet -- and since we needed Super Boy's old closet for the baby's things, all the crap we moved had to find a new home.

Say it with me: Uggghhhhhhhh.

So, there I was, 7-1/2 months pregnant on a step ladder, tossing things off the shelves, going through a ridiculous amount of clothing and crap, throwing some stuff in the garbage and other stuff into garbage bags for Goodwill, and finding a new home from the stuff we wanted to hold onto. It took hours, but holy smokes, did it feel good to have it DONE! The unfortunate (or is it fortunate?) thing is that I wasn't able to just work on that closet, when all was said and done, because finding new homes for what was being kept meant having to go through all the OTHER closets in the house -- the one in my and Super Man's bedroom, the closet in the hallway, and the closet in Super Girl's rarely-used room. So instead of purging and organizing just Super Boy's new closet and the baby's closet, I ended up purging and organizing ALL of our upstairs closets.

Needless to say, I got rid of a TON of stuff. Most went into the Goodwill bags, which I felt good about. But the whole process just had me shaking my head, wondering why the heck we held on to some of the stuff I was going through and sorting. We have wayyyyy too much STUFF, and I guarantee that most of it was there because one of us said to ourselves, "I'm sure I'll wear/use that again someday." Those words ought to be the kiss of death from now on. If I ever think them again, I need to find a 6-months holding area for those items and if they aren't used in that time, they're gone, no questions asked.

All in all, it took me nearly an entire day to go through all five closets upstairs, and the hall and staircase landing were full of bags by the time I was done. Needless to say, I overdid it a bit that day (ya think??), but I was on such a roll that although I intended to rest the day after, I found myself doing a little bit more purging and organizing, though not nearly to the same extent. And I did make sure I took long breaks every couple hours to rest, as I was really feeling it that second day.

Anyhoo, Super Boy's new bedroom still has a little bit to be done to make it just right (we desperately need to go through all of his toys, stuffed animals and books and PURGE), but he LOVES it and has been so excited to show it to his friends as he's had playdates the past few weeks. I think the best part of it to him is that the room has a t.v. and the Wii in it. Now, before anyone jumps down my throat and spouts research showing how awful it is to let kids have a t.v. - much less a video game system! - in their bedroom, let me just say that those things have ALWAYS been in that room because, REMEMBER, it was our guest room/play room. We contemplated moving the t.v. somewhere else and the Wii down to the living room, but then Super Boy is going to have his play dates in the living room instead of upstairs, and that level of noise and activity is not something I want to deal with!

So, instead, we set some ground rules for Super Boy that MUST be followed in order to keep the electronics in his room. First, he is allowed to watch 15 minutes of t.v. before he falls asleep at night, and I set the sleep timer on the t.v. when I say goodnight to him so I know when it will be turning off. He knows that if he resets it or turns the t.v. back on after it automatically shuts off, the t.v. is gone. And he is not to play the Wii at all before bed -- that's for after school or weekends, not evening hours. He's always been really great about following house rules and not pushing his luck, I'm sure because he knows I don't mess around and I WILL follow through on the consequences, so I fully expect this arrangement will be fine for the time being. Thankfully, Super Girl will be 18 in three more years and we will no longer feel compelled to provide her with a designated room at our house at that point, so if the situation with Super Boy changes and it's a problem for him to have the t.v./Wii in his room, we can move it to the new spare room at that point.

Now let me tell you about the baby's room! :)

I never in a million years thought I'd be the mom who would want a pink bedroom with pink things in it if I had a daughter. And yet, lo and behold, that is apparently EXACTLY the mom I am.

We originally planned to keep the bedroom painted the way it was as Super Boy's nursery, as it was done in a relatively neutral animal theme and the crib bedding we used with Super Boy and planned to use again was Pottery Barn Kids Animals bedding (2003). Well, it didn't take long for me to conclude that I just wasn't digging that plan, and I felt compelled to make the room girlier. And making it girlier meant painting it pink. Not just one shade of pink, but two shades of pink. Extra pink.

Thankfully, Super Man didn't fight me on my compulsion. In fact, he went along with it quite willingly. So we picked out two complementary shades of pink that, surprisingly, we agreed on without any debate - one medium/deep pink and one pale/medium pink - and Super Man promptly painted the room.

Once the room was painted, however, I came to the conclusion that the animals crib bedding was no longer going to work in the room, as there is no PINK in the animals bedding. Of course, that's when Super Man decided to disagree and insist that we reuse Super Boy's bedding!

But I (being the clever mommy-to-be that I am) had a plan: I had just gotten some belated Christmas and birthday money from my in-laws, so I decided to use some of that to get a new crib bumper and a few new sheets that were girlier. And then, as luck would have it, my mom called my cell phone while I was ON MY WAY to buy the new crib bumper and sheets, and in the course of our conversation she asked if we were using the same bedding we had for Super Boy. I explained the situation and before I could even say that I was going to buy a new bumper and sheets myself, she offered to buy a new bedding set as a (yet another) baby gift for her granddaughter. I accepted her offer, but declined to get a whole new SET because although I loved the set we had for Super Boy, we only used the toddler quilt for a very short time with him and it was mostly just for decoration despite being the most expensive piece of the set, so I really didn't want to spend the money on an entirely new set. I was able to get a new bumper and sheets for ~$60, as compared to $150 on a whole new set, but I got exactly what I wanted, and was so excited to put it in the baby's room! (Thanks again, Mom!!)

That same week, after scouring Craigslist every few days in search of an old, tall dresser for the baby's room, I found the PERFECT one: it was $30 and the size was just what I had in mind. So that weekend we went and picked it up, and Super Man gave it a fresh coat of white paint the next weekend. I was thrilled to be able to clean and line the drawers and get all of the baby's 0-6 month clothes put away in it (I'd already hung the hangable stuff in the closet earlier in the week). And Super Boy helped me set-up the crib while Super Man was painting the dresser, so it felt like the whole room came together in a day but for wall decorations, which I finished the week after.

We had already decided to do vinyl wall decals this time as opposed to having Super Man paint a mural or murals again. And, thankfully, we once again were able to agree on a set of decals pretty quickly, which Super Boy helped us put up one Sunday afternoon! The set has owls, birds, a tree and branches, flowers, and a few other animals, and there were enough that we were able to do one main arrangement right by the baby's crib and several smaller ones elsewhere in the room.

In addition to the decals, I decided to finally try my hand at making some mixed-media art on canvas, something I've thought about doing for quite a while but was never confident enough to try - until now. I made two smaller canvases with birds on them and one larger canvas with an owl, and they turned out beautifully! I painted the canvases with acrylic paint, let them dry, and then using my ridiculous stash of scrapbooking paper and some templates I found online, I made multi-patterned/colored birds and the owl and Modge-Podged them onto the canvases and then Modge-Podged the canvases in their entirety to give them a little sheen. I had a few "uh-oh" moments along the way (1. I had planned to use some felt on the bird canvases but after sponge-painting the Modge-Podge on the felt and seeing the effect - can you say "ruined?" - I quickly pulled the felt off and replaced it with a different scrapbooking paper, and 2. I thought I could ink stamp the owl canvas, let it dry for nearly 2 days and then Modge-Podge it, but the Modge-Podge smeared the ink, so I had to finish the picture, let it dry, and THEN ink stamp the canvas), but the end results are awesome. To finish them for hanging, I just hot-glued ribbons to the back. Gorgeous, simple, low-cost and made with love - doesn't get much better than that!

Anyway, the baby's room is so sweet, I can't even tell you. I love the pink. I love the white crib and white dresser against the pink walls. I love the pretty pink crib bumper and sheet. I love the gorgeous stuffed birds and owls I found and purchased on Etsy.com to go with her room. I love the artwork I made for the room. It's all beautiful, and it's all ready and waiting for her to get here!

Now, about the unplanned hospitalization...

Wow, that was scary! It was last Monday; I wasn't quite 34 weeks yet (two days shy), and I was doing nothing that should've triggered labor. The day it happened, I had literally spent the entire morning working on the owl canvas, sitting at my kitchen island. I wasn't cleaning, lifting, doing laundry, climbing stairs excessively or anything of the sort - it was actually a pretty relaxing, low-key day. Around lunchtime, I used the bathroom and came out to start making my lunch when all of a sudden I had a terrible pain in my lower abdomen. Thinking maybe I had to go #2 (sorry for the TMI!), I went back to the bathroom, but nothing was coming. That said, it did look as though I'd lost a bit of my mucus plug (again, sorry for the TMI), and that made me nervous. I came back out and continued making my lunch, only to realize that the sharp pains were coming with some frequency and consistency. Still, I tried to stay calm, drink my water, eat my lunch and sit quietly. It wasn't getting any better, so I went upstairs, grabbed the phone and lay down on my side on our bed, praying that the contractions would go away. I called Super Man first.

SW: "Hey, baby - it's me. Um... can you come home?"
SM: "Uh... what's going on? Everything okay?"
SW: "Well, maybe. I'm not sure. I'm having contractions, and they hurt. Bad. I really think it would be a good idea for you to get home, just in case." (side note: Super Man works an hour away from where we live.)
SM: "Really? Have you called your doctor yet??"
SW: "No - I wanted to call you first and have you get on the road, and I'll be calling her next. Whether she wants to see me in her office or not, I think it's smart for you to plan to be at home in case I have to go in somewhere later on. Can you just come home?"
SM: "Well, yeah, I should be able to. Let me start wrapping things up here, but you call Dr. ____ and call me back, ok?"

I called my OB's office next and explained what was happening. They didn't put me through to the nurse right away but said they'd take my number and have the nurse call me back. I waited. And waited.

Thankfully, I spent enough time lying on my side waiting to get a call back that the contractions seemed to be easing up a bit, and since I had not yet showered that day, I decided to take a really quick, warm shower in the hopes that that might also calm the contractions down. I put the phone right next to the shower and took a quickie shower. The doctor's office still had not called me back.

The contractions, while still coming, were less intense and seemed less frequent, so I was a bit calmer, but I also realized that I had to pick up Super Boy from school in about 45 minutes, so the clock was ticking.

As I was getting dressed and drying my hair, the nurse finally called me back. We talked a bit and I told her I was nervous because this round of contractions were more painful than the bout I had at 27 weeks. That said, the last round was triggered by a UTI, and I had been on the fence wondering if I had another one, so we ultimately decided that I should go in to their office to do a urine test to check for a UTI, and then depending on what the urinalysis showed, Dr. ____ may or may not see me.

I called Super Man back and told him that I was picking up Super Boy and heading to the doctor's office and that he should just meet us there. It all worked out great timing-wise, and thank God I did ask Super Man to come home because the contractions were getting worse as I was driving with Super Boy to the doctor's office.

My urinalysis didn't show any sign of infection, so they said they'd culture it (since it took a culture to diagnose it last time) but would not give me antibiotics for it until they knew for sure. The urine DID, however, show that I was rather dehydrated, no doubt as a result of the on and off diarrhea I'd had all weekend. And dehydration can definitely trigger contractions. The doctor was able to see me, as I wanted her to check my cervix. Thankfully, it was still tightly closed, but I was really in a lot of pain then, to the point of tears, so she hooked me up to the fetal monitor to see what was going on with the contractions. They were coming about every 4 minutes and lasting up to a minute, and they weren't letting up. So the doctor sent me next door to the hospital to Labor & Delivery to get some IV fluids, hoping that rehydrating me would stop the contractions.

Again, thank God Super Man was there. I looked at the clock as I was wheeled over to L&D and it was about 5:30pm, which meant Super Man had to get dinner for Super Boy and make sure he got homework done, not to mention run home and let our dog out and feed her. In the meantime, I was admitted, told to put a gown on, and hooked up to the fetal monitor and an IV to get the first liter of fluids. The monitor was showing my contractions were coming every 2-4 minutes (which I could definitely feel at that point - the pain was worse than ever), but still lasting 45-60 seconds each. When the first liter of fluids failed to stop the contractions, the nurse called my doctor and was told to give me another liter of fluids and terbutaline shots to try to stop the contractions. I had the first shot, and although I felt MUCH better almost immediately, the monitor was still picking up mild contractions, so I had another shot 20 minutes later to completely knock them out. I had to wait until the second liter of fluids was empty and until I'd had 30 minutes without any contractions being picked up by the monitor to be released, which happened around 10pm. My doctor didn't put me on bed rest, as she fully believed that whole situation was due to the dehydration and I wasn't dilating, but she insisted that I take it very easy going forward.

We were all exhausted by the events of that evening, physically and mentally. God bless them, Super Man and especially Super Boy were both very calm and reassuring through the whole ordeal seeing how upset I was, but I know it was hard for them, too. It was definitely at the forefront of my mind that having the baby that early could've been really bad. Yes, babies usually survive when born at ~34 weeks, but they're more likely to have problems. I know that to be considered "term" we need to get to 37 weeks at least, so I was immensely relieved that they were able to stop my contractions, get me rehydrated and send me home. I am now DETERMINED to stay properly hydrated at all costs, diarrhea or not, and have been taking it extremely easy since that day to make sure I don't trigger another episode.

As it turns out, I had another - worse - episode of diarrhea this past Sunday night/Monday morning that left me feeling nauseous, but I forced myself to drink tons of Gatorade and water anyway, and thankfully nothing came of it contraction-wise. But then I was nervous because I was also summoned for my first jury duty EVER and was to do it yesterday/today, and I was praying the diarrhea would resolve well before then so I could just go and get it over with. Thankfully it did, so I was able to report for duty yesterday. And even MORE thankfully, I was dismissed at around Noon yesterday and told I didn't have to report back today!

Anyway, we aren't sure what's causing all my diarrhea, and that's a bit of a concern to ME at least, because it's really uncomfortable and I don't like that it could send me back into contractions. I also think it's odd because I was SO ridiculously constipated for most of this pregnancy and now all of a sudden I'm on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I have NO normal BMs - I either can't go at all or I'm going like a goose. That can't be right!!

Still, I had my 34 week check-up last Friday and everything looked good, and I'll have my 36 week appointment next Friday, where she'll be checking my cervix again. And other than the diarrhea episode, I have been feeling mostly pretty good since the hospitalization, so that's a good thing. I have less than 2 weeks to get through before I could safely have the baby and feel okay about it, and I have less than 4 weeks until my scheduled C-section, if the baby stays put that long!

I look back at all the time it's taken us to get here. Not just the past 8 months of pregnancy, but the miscarriage I endured last May, the year of seeing our fertility specialists, and the three and a half years of trying for another baby without success on our own prior to that. March of 2011 marked 5 years since we began our journey; that sort of takes my breath away when I think about it. I was just 32 at the beginning of all of this, and Super Man was only 40. I still can't believe that it took us this long, but I am so, so immeasurably grateful that we are finally here, in the final weeks of this pregnancy, waiting to meet the final member of our family. Every moment, even the worst of them like the days and weeks following the miscarriage, of the past 5 years has been worthwhile because each one brought us one step closer to where we are now and has made us that much more appreciative of being here.

For all reading this who are still waiting for their miracle, stay strong. I know that not everyone will get their dream come true, as medicine and science can only do so much, but for those who have not yet exhausted all their options, don't lose hope, don't lose faith, and keep believing that the journey isn't over until it's over. As often as I doubted things along our journey, there was always that part of me that believed we weren't done yet, and I'm so grateful that part wouldn't let me give up. I continue to pray constantly for others who are going through all forms of infertility, always.

SW

daydreaming

I've reached that point in this pregnancy where I am starting to spend ridiculous amounts of time lost in delicious daydreams, picturing what my baby girl is going to look like, what her personality will be like, what it will be like to have her in our daily lives, in our home, in our family. It's sublime.

I will admit that when I picture her, I picture her looking a lot like Super Boy only more feminine. Similar faces and features (especially the eyes and thick, dark eyelashes and the beautiful rosy lips), with similar hair color and curl like Super Boy's, but I picture her hair longer. I picture her build being more slender though, more like I was as a baby/toddler/kid. I try to imagine what her smile will be like, and her voice, and her laugh. How her little fingers will look in my hand, and the shape of her little feet. I'm obsessed, and she's not even here yet!

I'm sure it's due in part to the fact that other friends who were also pregnant have had their baby girls recently, and seeing the pictures of their yummy newborns is akin to torture for an impatient mama like me. I find myself absorbing every detail of their beautiful babies, from the downy hair to the peach-like skin, the itty bitty fingers and toes, the little button noses. I'm so thrilled for my friends to finally be holding their babies in their arms, but I've gotta say that my arms are itching to hold my baby girl, and that's a tough kind of impatience to endure.

Granted, our baby isn't quite ready for her to make her grand entrance yet. She still has several weeks of gestating to do to get big, strong and healthy and I would never want to jeopardize that. I want her to be fully-cooked when she joins us, for sure.

And, frankly, we're not quite ready for her arrival yet either! I'm still struggling to decide where to put her upon her arrival, for starters. Our house is laid out such that our bedroom is at the front of the house, Super Boy's room is right next to ours (we can literally see most of his room while laying in our bed), Super Girl's room is slightly down the hall, and then our guest room/play room is at the other end of the hallway, right next to the bathroom. The long-term plan is to move Super Boy to the guest room/play room and put the baby in his room, but the question we're struggling with is whether to do that right away or not.

The argument for NOT doing it right away is this: I'm a SAHM, but Super Man has to go to work Monday through Friday, and with me planning on breastfeeding again, there's not much reason for Super Man to have to get up during the night. So if we put the baby in Super Boy's room right away, not only will Super Man hear the baby when she cries to be fed at night, but I'll be in and out of our bed and our bedroom every few hours to feed her. Super Man is usually a pretty deep sleeper, but not always, and once he's awake, he usually can't go back to sleep.

So the alternate plan was for Super Boy to stay in his room for the first few months after the baby comes and for the baby and I to set-up shop in the guest bedroom, since it's at the opposite end of the house from both my & Super Man's room and Super Boy's room, so they'd be less likely to be woken up by her crying and I'd be right there with her for feedings. If she's anything like Super Boy was, she'll be sleeping at least 6 hours by 10-12 weeks, so the bedroom changes should be able to be done by the end of the summer at the latest. There's just a few problems with the plan though.

First off, Super Boy has been spending most nights in the back bedroom for the past few months because he LOVES sleeping back there, and he's not crazy about having to go back to sleeping in his bed once the baby comes -- he wants to make the guest bedroom his new bedroom NOW. And I don't blame him. It's a great room, with windows on all sides, not to mention that there's a t.v. back there! (For any critics, Super Boy is only allowed to have the sleep timer on the t.v. for 15 minutes before bed and then it's lights out.)

Secondly, my nesting instincts are kicking in BIG TIME, and I'm having a super hard time NOT getting the baby's room ready. And what I mean by that is that we plan to paint Super Boy's room before it becomes Baby Super Girl's room, and there will undoubtedly be some minor decorating changes in there, and the thought of having to wait until the baby is 2-3 months old to make those changes is driving me batty. I LOVE the idea of sleeping in the back bedroom with her for the first several weeks for the convenience and to let the rest of the household sleep, and for the summer breeze from all those windows, but I want to have a finished bedroom for her sooner rather than later. I want to be able to put her clothes away (once) and just have a space that is all hers.

You might say, "well, why not just make the guest bedroom her bedroom?" That would be bad. Bad because that room is farthest from our bedroom, bad because it's a big bedroom and would be mostly wasted space as her bedroom for the next few years, and bad because Super Boy REALLY wants it to be HIS bedroom and I want this transition to be as smooth as possible for him, since he's been my only child for nearly 8 years and while he is thrilled about his baby sister coming, I know he's got some reservations about not being my only baby anymore. The more we can do to help him view the coming changes as positive, the better it will be all around.

Aside from that situation, we still don't have some of the things we "need" for the baby. As far as I know, there isn't going to be a baby shower this time around, so we're trying to spread out the necessary purchases a bit so as not to go broke all at once! I've been trying to borrow as much as I can, and to find gently used things as cheaply as possible through eBay, Craigslist, etc., but there are just some things that are going to have to be purchased. I have my list, I keep an eye on the sales and wait for coupons, and I buy them as I can. I'm sure we'll be ready to roll by May, but it still makes me a little anxious that we're not fully locked and loaded now.

In the meantime, I'm trying to allot more time in my days for just sitting and thinking about the new baby and how her arrival will change our lives in great and wonderful ways. I can't wait. :)

Yours,
SW

10 to go...!!

I hadn't realized how long it's been since I last updated on the pregnancy, so my apologies if anyone has been waiting for an update. That said, I'm officially 29 weeks and 1 day pregnant, and since we're planning a scheduled C-section for May 11, 2011, that means that we have 10 weeks AT MOST before we get to meet our baby girl!

I can't even begin to tell you how excited and eager I am to meet her. I'm not a patient person by nature (in case that hasn't been READILY apparent), so waiting for May to roll around is hard. But I want the baby to keep on growing in my belly until she's ready to come out, so hopefully she stays put for at least another 8 weeks.

Speaking of that, I had another little scare the other week. I didn't pass out again (thank God!), but there was a Thursday evening two weeks ago when I spent the night almost entirely wide awake having contractions. I was only 27 weeks at that time, so needless to say, I was freaking out. They weren't painful contractions and were probably Braxton-Hicks, but it's been so long since I last had them (with Super Boy) that I really couldn't remember what they were supposed to feel like. I managed to wait until 6am to have my OB paged, and after talking to her, she wanted me to come in to her office that morning so she could check my urine and see what was going on. Of course, by the time I got to her office, I was no longer contracting and felt fine (albeit exhausted!). Still, she checked my urine, my blood pressure, and the baby's heartbeat. My urine test was iffy for a UTI, so she wanted to culture it, but she gave me 3 days of antibiotics to get through the weekend on the assumption that that was the culprit, as I guess UTI's can trigger Braxton-Hicks contractions. My BP was totally fine, and the baby's heartbeat was strong and I could feel her moving, so she chalked it all up to the suspected UTI and told me to take it easy for a few days. But... she didn't check my cervix, and that made me nervous.

As the next several days went by, I took it easy and followed doctor's orders to the letter. Super Man and Super Boy took excellent care of me, and of the dog, and of the house while I stayed off my feet and stayed hydrated. The antibiotics had me feeling much better within a few days, and the culture came back Monday confirming the UTI, so my OB extended my antibiotic another few days. But I was still nervous about what effect the contractions might've had on my cervix, coupled with the fact that I seemed to have more discharge and I was worried it might be amniotic fluid. I toughed it out until Thursday, but it was really bothering & troubling me, so I made another appointment for Friday to have her check my cervix and swab for amniotic fluid. Thankfully, my cervix is still tightly closed (amen!) and the swab was incredibly clean - no amniotic fluid, no yeast (usually after a week of antibiotics I end up with a yeast infection), and not a lot of other stuff either. I was so relieved, I can't even tell you.

That's the thing with this pregnancy: After all the years we tried for this baby, and after miscarrying out of the blue last spring, I am SO PARANOID whenever anything unusual happens now. I know that's not a GOOD thing -- my stress level affects the baby. But I can't seem to shut my mind off once something starts troubling me, especially if it's a physical thing that's bothering me. My OB has been so cool and awesome about the whole thing though that I now feel much more comfortable just going with my instinct to call her and/or come in to get checked out when I'm really nervous about a new symptom or pain or whatever. Bottom line: I'd rather be safe than sorry. If getting checked out will put my mind at ease and let me relax, better for both me and the baby. And I'd rather find out for sure sooner than later if anything IS wrong.

Anyway, I'm glad to be in the home stretch of the pregnancy: the Third Trimester! In just over 2 months, we will have our baby girl with us. She will have a name (finally!), she will be sleeping under the same roof as us, she will be wearing all the sweet little clothes I've been readying for her arrival, burning through the diapers I've been buying, and making our family complete.

I cannot wait to meet her.

Thanks to all for the well wishes and prayers all along the way. We are so grateful and feel so blessed to be where we are right now, and I know all the positive thoughts and prayers have helped to get us here. So, THANK YOU. :)

Much love,
SW

an answer to a question

One of my new readers, Theresa, posted a comment on my last blog post, and in her comment she asked why we had ultimately decided that adoption wasn't for us as we went through our journey to a second child together. Frankly, I was surprised to find that I hadn't ever really addressed that along the way here, because we did talk about and consider it in weighing all of our options, but apparently I never did get around to addressing that. Which is why I will address it now, in answer to Theresa's question. (Thanks, Theresa!)

Super Man and I never imagined it would take us forever and a day to conceive the second child we always wanted together. When the first year of trying to conceive passed with no pregnancy to speak of, we started to talk about all the "what ifs" and "what would we dos" if our efforts on our own continued to be unsuccessful. It was never a situation where we had one conversation and laid out the master plan at the end of it and said "it's this or nothing!" It was a long, drawn-out conversation that led to a loose plan that changed a bit here and there as circumstances changed.

Some things to consider before I answer the question:

-- From the time I met Super Man in 1998, he already had a child from his first marriage, Super Girl. She was 7 when Super Boy was born and 10 when we started trying for a second baby together. Super Man pays child support for Super Girl (now 15) in addition to being the sole bread-winner in our family.

-- Super Man and I were already blessed with one child together, Super Boy. He was 3 when we started trying for a second baby together, and is almost 8 now (will turn 8 right after our baby girl is born).

-- I was working full-time when we first started trying for another baby, but dropped to part-time in the second year of trying to conceive, and then left my job entirely to be a stay-at-home mom by the third year of trying to conceive. This left us with a reduced second income for a year and then NO second income for the 3 years since. Our financial situation today is way different than it was in 2006 when we started trying for this baby.

-- I was 32 and Super Man was 40 when we started trying for a second baby; I am now 37 and Super Man will turn 45 in two weeks.

And now, to answer the question!

Yes, we considered adoption. We know others who have their children and their families solely because of adoption. We have nothing against adoption. For us, however, it just never seemed like the right or practical option.

Our main reason for choosing not to pursue adoption is that it is expensive, regardless of whether you adopt stateside or internationally. From what I've heard, it's more on par with in vitro than anything else, and can be way more costly than in vitro. And so, once we decided that in vitro was outside of our financial capabilities (or at least outside of the financial risk we were willing to take, given that there's no guarantee that in vitro will result in a baby), that pretty much took adoption off the table, too.

We've heard horror stories of international adoptions that ended up being WAY more costly than expected because of corruption within the foreign governments, and unexpected delays and added trips overseas and additional legal expenditures to clear them up. And we know personally of a situation with a U.S. adoption where one of the birth parents suddenly decided to challenge the adoption, adding tens of thousands in legal costs to the adoptive parents' bill to fight back (which, fortunately, they could afford). Thankfully, they won their court battle. My point is, just like we had no guarantee of getting a baby from in vitro, we felt that we had no guarantee of getting a baby through adoption with our financial resources being limited, because of all the unknowns that can arise unexpectedly along the way. For us, it wasn't worth the financial risk to end up empty-handed, just as we felt in vitro wasn't worth the financial risk to end up empty-handed.

That might sound too cold or unemotional to some, but believe me, it was not a decision arrived at lightly. The bottom line, however, is that we have an obligation and a responsibility to the children we already DO have not to jeopardize our ability to provide for them solely because we wanted to have another child.

Aside from the financial concerns, it was the emotional risk involved in adoption that turned us off. Anyone who knows me personally knows that I'm not one who can keep intensely emotional experiences at arms' length. No; with me, once I've given my heart over to something, I'm ALL IN. If we had found a good match to adopt a baby and started that process and then the birth parent(s) changed their mind or something happened to keep it from going forward, I would've been utterly devastated. It's just not something we wanted to risk going through.

And then there's the fact that part of my desire to have another child was to experience pregnancy again one last time. I LOVED being pregnant with Super Boy; it was one of the best experiences of my life, and certainly the most moving and life-changing. I personally couldn't see foregoing that part of having another child. As for Super Man, he comes from a long line of very traditional Italians, who take great pride in their heritage. He didn't know how he'd feel to adopt a child that wasn't biologically, genetically his given that his other two children are.

If we didn't have Super Girl and Super Boy, and if we had found out that our fertility problems were due to something specific that couldn't be fixed, I suspect that we'd both feel very differently about adoption and would've been more willing to pursue it. But since that was not our situation, we were able to look at and then conclude that it just wasn't the right fit for us.

All of that aside, I think adoption is a wonderful option for many and I would never discourage anyone from considering it. In fact, I'd encourage anyone going through fertility struggles to at least spend some time looking into it and talking to others who have experience with it. In the end, however, it boils down to each couple's circumstances and personal feelings about the positives and negatives of adoption and what they're willing to risk.

Thanks again to Theresa for asking that question and opening up a new area of discussion. If any of you ever have questions about our experience, please don't hesitate to ask - I'm happy to answer them!

Be well,
SW

holy crap, I fainted

Readers, I had one of the scariest experiences of my life yesterday morning.

My family and I were heading down to church for our son's Sunday school class. I was driving my minivan (as I always do), Super Man was in the passenger seat and Super Girl was in back with Super Boy. We were about halfway to our church, ON A BRIDGE, when all of a sudden I felt light-headed, hot & sweaty, and definitely NOT well. I turned off the heat in the van, opened my window and tried to see if that would help. My light-headedness was getting worse and my vision was getting blotchy. I had just enough time to say to Super Man, "I don't feel right - I think I'm going to pass out," pull the van as far to the right as possible, throw it into "park" and hit the button to turn my hazards on before I PASSED OUT.

From the time I started feeling not right to the time I passed out was maybe 90 seconds.

Next thing I knew, I felt like I was just waking up and I could hear Super Man saying my name over and over and over. When I opened my eyes, he was holding my face in his hands, looking very concerned. I asked, "What happened?" Honestly, I thought I had just closed my eyes for a minute to rest and cool off once I'd pulled over. Super Man told me I had passed out, and was out for about 45 seconds. I couldn't believe it. In the meantime, the kids were freaking out in the back, and I could hear Super Girl telling 911 that it was a false alarm and I was okay. Can you say, "HOLY CRAP???"

I sat there in disbelief for a few minutes while Super Man made me drink from my ever-present bottle of ice water. My hands were shaking like crazy, my face was a little sweaty and I was sure I was very pale, and I suddenly felt really cold. We sat there, blocking the right lane on the bridge, until I felt well enough to drive to the nearest turn so Super Man could take the wheel. Needless to say, I was - and remain - scared to drive after that happened. I mean, think about it: I had my entire family in my car with me, ON A BRIDGE, and I passed out while driving. THANK GOD a million times over that I had enough time to process what was happening, pull over and park the car before I lost consciousness. I shudder to think of what could've happened if I'd still had the car in "drive" when it happened. I could've killed my family, or someone else's family. NOT a good situation, no matter how you slice it.

When we got the car off the road and switched places, Super Man called my OB's office to ask whether he should take me to the hospital or not. Of course, being a Sunday, we got the answering service and had to wait for the on-call OB to call us back. In the meantime, I drank my ice water, sucked on a mint I had in the car (in case it happened to be hypoglycemia), and made DH and the kids tell me exactly what happened after I parked the car and passed out.

Apparently, I was out for about 45 seconds. In that time, I literally slumped in my seat and the reason Super Man was holding my face was that it sounded like I was having trouble breathing being slumped as I was. My skin got clammy and pale, and Super Man said he was repeating my name the entire time trying to get me to come around. He could tell when I was almost there because my breathing got quieter and more normal, and then it was like I just woke up.

Super Man said he couldn't believe how lucky we ALL were that I was able to stop the car before I passed out. I was thinking the same thing.

He started driving, heading toward the hospital near our house, when the OB on-call called us back. Super Man spoke to him for a few minutes, and then the doctor wanted to speak to me. I told him what happened, and explained that in the middle of the night before, I'd woken up around 2:45am with a stomachache and spent about a half-hour in the bathroom with diarrhea, then had trouble falling back asleep, but I felt okay in the morning. I had eaten a big bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. The doctor wasn't overly concerned about me passing out, and chalked it up to dehydration from my middle-of-the-night bathroom situation the night before, assuming I hadn't rehydrated enough afterwards. He also said it could've been the position of the baby, maybe resting on a crucial bit of my vascular system and causing the drop in blood pressure. He asked how my appointments have gone so far, and if I've had any issues with diabetes or blood pressure and I said no -- all of my appointments have gone great, and all my vitals and tests have been normal. So, no tests this time, but he said if it happens again, to call and they'll probably want to run a few tests. He told me to go home, drink sports drinks and water and get some rest. So I did.

But now I'm afraid to drive. At least alone, or with Super Boy. What if it happens again? Then again, I know that I can't NOT drive. Super Man works an hour away; he works long hours; he travels for work. I HAVE TO drive. Super Boy has to get to school and to activities, we need groceries and other things, etc. I think I'll feel a lot better once I can get through a few weeks without any more fainting issues.

It was just so bizarre. I never fainted while pregnant with Super Boy. I don't even remember ever feeling dizzy with him, beyond a little light-headedness if I stood up too fast or something. This happened so out-of-the-blue, with so little warning, that it just surprised the heck out of me. I'm just praying it won't happen again.

Have any of you had issues with fainting while pregnant? Anyone ever fainted while DRIVING while pregnant?

Stay safe, friends, and be well!

Your grateful friend SW

in your shoes

One of the blogs I've checked regularly throughout our struggle to conceive is "999 Reasons to Laugh at Infertility", which I also "like" on Facebook. This morning on Facebook they posted a challenge to infertiles not to glare at pregnant women today. I could SO relate to the sentiment, having lived it for all four and a half years we tried for this baby - particularly in the weeks after my miscarriage last spring, when it seemed like literally every female I encountered EVERY DAMN PLACE I WENT was ripe with child, like the Universe was bent on torturing me.

Of course, I always felt bad for feeling so resentful of the pregnant women who crossed my path, particularly since several of them are friends who just happened to get pregnant (one or more times!) in the time it's taken us to conceive this baby. Yes, there is guilt and remorse in my heart for that, as I am sure there is in the heart of every other woman who has struggled with infertility of any kind who has ever felt hostility and/or resentment towards a pregnant woman. After all, they can't help their condition, whether they were blessed with raging fertility or not. And just because they have what we so desperately want doesn't make them bad people. It makes them just like us -- only luckier.

Having had so much time to think about the issue while we tried, waited and failed to conceive and tried, waited and failed to conceive, I found myself making a very crucial distinction in my head about the pregnant women I encountered. There were those who understood what it was like to be in my shoes, either because they themselves had dealt with infertility at some point or they were close to someone else who had, who were gentle in sharing their news, truly seemed to be grateful for their condition, and never seemed to be flaunting it in my presence. And then there were those who were completely clueless, who knew what we were going through and still felt it was appropriate to talk about how "fortunate" they were to be so fertile, to get pregnant on the first try with all their children (or, better yet, to get pregnant even when they WEREN'T trying), and who had the gall to complain about being pregnant or pregnancy side effects every time they crossed my path, not getting at all that I would've gladly given my left nut if I'd had one to be in their shoes any day, any time. I found I could tolerate being in the presence of the former. But I would do whatever it took to avoid being in the presence of the latter.

So, as I sit here almost 22 weeks pregnant, I want to tell all of those reading this who are still waiting for their miracle that I understand what you're going through. I know every emotion that crosses your mind and your heart when you see my belly, and I know that it's like a knife cutting deep. I know this, and my heart breaks for you because I can remember what that felt like more acutely than you know. I don't think I will ever be able to forget that feeling, having lived with it so deeply and completely for so long. I don't blame you for feeling resentful, for wanting to hate me, for glaring at me, because I know the depth and breadth of your heartache.

Just know this: I am you. Despite my complete and utter joy and excitement over our miracle happening and our dream coming true, I still pray every single day for all of the women and couples who are still suffering, still waiting, still praying, still waiting for their miracle. I don't consider myself removed from where you are; I will never be removed from this experience. I am still with you all, shoulder-to-shoulder, praying for babies for all those who want them with all their hearts. I don't take this pregnancy for granted, I don't feel smug for having achieved it at long last; rather, I am profoundly grateful and humbled and awe-struck beyond words. I thank God every day for finally answering our prayers, and I pray that I will prove myself worthy of my children. I'm still with you, and I will always be with you, belly bump or no.

All I can tell you is this: believe. Believe that it's possible. Believe that the timing just hasn't been right yet. Believe that when it does happen, it's because it was meant to happen then, to give you that specific child. Believe, even if others have given up around you. Just believe in miracles.

With all the love in my heart,
SW

remembering

Well, the day I had been dreading came and went without much fuss, although it was certainly on my mind from the moment I woke up until the moment I fell asleep. Still, it was hard to feel the crushing sadness and disappointment I might have otherwise felt given where I am right now.

The due date for my April 2010 pregnancy that didn't make it was 01/01/11.

Prior to conceiving the baby girl I'm carrying now, I eyed the end of my calendar with wariness, dreading the year coming to a close and bringing that painful reminder with it, especially because I had looked at that due date as incredibly auspicious and apropos under the circumstances: entering a new year making a fresh start with a brand new baby. After losing that pregnancy, even just allowing my mind to momentarily alight on that thought was painful enough, much less thinking about living through a whole day of thinking about it.

But then I got pregnant again. And this one stayed. And thrived. And we found out we were expecting a daughter. And there was no going back.

And so, on 01/01/11, instead of wallowing in the depths of despair over my earlier loss, I was marveling in the miracle of this pregnancy, feeling my little girl moving in my swollen belly, knowing that things perhaps didn't turn out the way we had thought they were going to, but they are going to turn out the way they were always meant to.

Yes, I thought of the pregnancy that failed; I said a little prayer of thanks for it, because had it not been for achieving it - albeit briefly - I might've given up on continuing to try. The simple fact that I had achieved pregnancy after so many years of trying was a blessing and fortified me to keep going, gave me faith that we were right to keep trying. And here we are.

Another thought pervaded my mind that day. I thought back to when we tried for Super Boy, and how disappointed I was that we didn't conceive the first two months we tried for him (boy, was that short-sighted of me, given what awaited us when we tried for our second child together!). But then after Super Boy was born and I was marveling over him in all his glory, it occurred to me that if I had conceived in either of the other two months we tried, the baby I would've been holding at that moment would not have been HIM. And I wouldn't trade him for anything in the Universe.

I realized then that, yes, I had to "wait" a little longer to get pregnant, but it was so that HE would be the child I ended up with. It all happened the way it was meant to.

And even though losing my April pregnancy was devastating and horrible and not at all what I wanted, it had to happen that way so that my body would be ready to conceive THIS baby, my little girl, in August. I believe that it happened the way it did because that's how it had to happen, that was how it was all meant to be.

Prior to finding out that I was pregnant this time, I posted something on this blog in one of my first few posts, some excerpts from one of my favorite books, The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, about joy and sorrow. I realize how completely and utterly true those words are as I sit here reflecting on this issue.

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

What that means to me is that, yes, I mourn the loss of my April pregnancy -- but without that loss carving such a deep swath of sorrow through my soul, I could not experience the immense and utter joy I feel now as I await the birth of my daughter. My capacity for sorrow was increased by the loss of that pregnancy because I knew what a joy it was to have Super Boy, but then my capacity for joy was also increased because I had suffered that loss. It's a circle: to have one, you must have the other, too.

So, to my pregnancy lost~ I love you and I am so thankful that you were with me, even though it was only for a short while. I believe that the spirit of you is in the Universe, with us always, and that your presence led us here. I will never forget that I loved you and lost you, and I know that every time I look at my daughter, I will be thinking of you, too. Thank you for existing, for keeping me on my path, for bringing us here. You're always in my heart!

Lovingly,
SW