It's a....

GIRL!!

We are so excited!

Every Heartbeat Belongs to You

I've been avoiding posting for a while now.  I've written and rewritten this entry in my head so many times, but actually sitting down and typing it seems a lot harder for some reason.  Maybe because there is no way to put these emotions into words.  Or maybe the words just don't exist.

Two months ago, I saw a second pink line.  A month ago, I saw a perfect beating heart.  And yesterday, I saw a beautiful baby kicking its legs. 

After 18 months of trying, testing, and failing over and over, we managed to catch that perfect little egg that we saw on ultrasound at the fertility appointment.  It's amazing actually--the miracle of it all. 

I wish I could say that I'm blissfully enjoying every minute of this pregnancy but the truth is, I'm a basketcase.  There isn't a minute that goes by that I don't worry.  I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, just sure that something has gone wrong.  I've avoided getting too attached to the little one inside of me because it hurts too much to think that things can go wrong.

I spend a lot of time living inside my own head.  I've pushed away friends, family, my husband.  Anyone who tells me not to worry.  Because that's just not possible.  It sucks, and it's beyond unfair that my first experience with pregnancy has left me so educated about the things that can go wrong.  I wish I was naive again and could un-know all the things I know.  But it doesn't work like that.

Today, I am 12 weeks and 4 days pregnant.  I'm waiting for some huge wave of relief to come over me so that I can just believe that I will get to hold this baby in December.  I think maybe I'm getting closer. 

There are just some things that can never be taken for granted.

The Beginning of the End

One year ago today began the downward spiral that eventually led to my miscarriage.  By Thursday, April 7, my heart and my belly were empty. 

This past year has been such a journey.  I don't really know any other way to discribe it.  The absolute heartbreak I felt when I lost my baby eventually evolved into strength I never knew I had.  I found out who my true friends are, and met some more along the way.  I can not say enough about the people who have helped me get to this place.  A year later, I am not the same person.

I still think about all the what-ifs.  I still know that I should be holding a 3 month old right now.  But a big part of my heart has moved past that.  The infertility took over all that space in my brain.  It's more than I can even describe.  An obsession really.  There is an end goal, but I had no idea how to get there.  I thought I knew, and it seemed pretty easy.  Sperm + egg = baby.  Apparently not sometimes. 

My first consultation with the fertility specialist went pretty well.  Originally, it looked like my egg was too small to survive, but it held on for a few days longer than expected and was the 'perfect' size by then.  More on this subject later...

But for now, I am spending this week mourning what could have been.  And being sad for the person I was back on April 4, 2011.  I wish I knew then what I know now.  I wish I knew how strong I would become and how awesome it would be to be surrounded by people who care and genuinely understand.

There are things in life you think you would never be able to survive.  But you never know what you're capable of pushing though until you have no choice. 

Kindergarten GQ

Quiz had school pictures today.  I picked out his clothes last night like I usually do.  He's never really cared what he wears, so  I picked out a nice polo shirt and some jeans. 

Well, he saw the outfit and said, "But I need to look nicer!"

He wanted to wear a tie. But alas, he doesn't actually own a tie.  So I suggested a button-down dress shirt with jeans.  "Well, ok. but I'll need a vest." 

Okie dokie, he needed a vest.  He has one vest, and it is technically a size too small.  But hey, the kid wanted to be fancy, so who am I to stand in his way?

This morning he asked V for hair gel and cologne. I saw the finished product before he left this morning, and holy cow. The cuteness is indescribable.

I can't wait to see the pictures. GQ's got nothin on this kid.

Idiot

My mom used to say, "You are the dumbest smart kid I know." Yep. That's me in a nutshell. I'm no genius, but I consider myself fairly intelligent. Then something like this happens.

I had a perfectly nice lunch break planned today. My boss asked me to run to Office Max on my way back. I did a little happy dance in my head when I realized I'd have time to drive through Starbucks and get a latte. There are few things in this world I love more than an afternoon latte. There are also few things in this world that work out the way I planned.

Let me preface this by telling you that my car is little more than a gerbil-powered roller skate. Seriously. Calling it a car is pretty generous.

Whatever you want to call it, the dumb thing died right in the middle of the street as I was backing out of the driveway at work. I had to call V and have him come push me out of the way since I was blocking a pre-school parking lot--"Heeyy! Don't mind me. I just like to hang out in my awesome car in the middle of the street. Jealous?"

It took three of us--one very nice preschool parent included--to get my car back into the driveway so I was out of the way.  The whole time I was thinking, "Please please don't let this cost a lot to fix.  We don't have extra money lying around right now."

Well, it only cost about $3.54 to fix.  That's the going rate for a gallon of gas in Iowa these days...

Idiot.

Baby Steps

Deep breath. I have a Dr. appointment next Tuesday. I finally decided after 18 failed cycles that something must be wrong. I know. Duh, right? Well, I prefer to take the What About Bob approach to healthcare-- baby steps to the elevator. That's all I can handle.

So I made an appointment for a consultation. And that's all I'm committing to at this point. I know she will suggest bloodwork, but I can't deal with that right now. I have a huge needle phobia. Not a fear, a full-fledged phobia. I'd explain it to you, but you wouldn't believe me.

I knew going into this that I would have to face my fear to have a baby. And I just assumed I would be willing to do anything once there was another human being hanging out in my uterus depending on me. Maybe not, but that's what I planned on happening--that motherhood would overrule everything else in my brain. I never considered that I'd have to face my fear before getting pregnant. So, I'm not thinking about that right now.

Right now, I have an appointment next Tuesday afternoon, just to talk. Baby steps.

Eleven

For about six months now, Minnie and I have been at war. I'm talking door-slamming, screaming, crying fights. It's gotten pretty bad.

I realize that this is about 90% my fault considering I'm 30, and she's 11. But wow. She has the ability to bring me down to her level in about 3.5 seconds. All the sudden I'm in junior high again and yelling things like, nu UH!

Two nights ago, she threw a raging fit because I let Quiz watch a show on the "big" tv in the living room while V and I went to a church meeting. This was meant to keep him out of her room and minimize the bickering potential of them being left alone for an hour. So anyway, Minnie starts whining about how she never gets to watch the big tv. All while sitting in her room, in front of her own computer, holding her cell phone, and watching her OWN tv. Yeah. That was about enough to send me over the edge. Seriously, kid.

What usually ends up happening is that V gets in the middle and tries to shut us up. And then Minnie starts crying to him about how much I hate her and how she's never coming over here again.

I'm at my wits end and have decided that I'm just not mature enough yet to have an 11 year old. Most parents have 11 years to prepare for this age. To perfect their patience levels and selective hearing. I've had 4 1/2. It's just not enough time to prepare for World War III. I need advanced training. Boot camp perhaps.

So, I've been feeling pretty inadequate for the past 6 months, wondering how I let it get this bad. Then at church last night, there were 4 of us standing around--all women with 11 or 12 year old daughters. And one mentioned how often she's been fighting with her daughter lately, and the other 2 chimed in with similar horror stories. I was so RELIEVED. It's not just me! It's not just a step parenting problem!

It's an epidemic, I tell ya. 11 and 12 year old girls need to be quarantined.

Job

I got a job! It pretty much fell out of the sky and landed in my lap just like I wanted it to. It's at a university, which has been my goal since graduating college almost 9 years ago (woah! 9 years? How did that happen?). Anyway, I really like it so far, even though it's only been 4 days. I think I can picture myself there long term, and they've got some great benefits for me and my family. So fingers crossed!

I'm still adjusting to being away from home all day. I haven't quite figured out the routine of work, kids, laundry,etc. I think it's going to take some getting used to. And my poor dog just doesn't know what to do with herself. She's never had to be home alone so much.

But it's a good thing. I know we'll find our routine soon enough, and I'm so happy to be employed and not selling anything!

17

It's been a while since I've written about my journey towards pregnancy. Rest assured, we're still trying. In fact, we're trying for the 17th time this cycle. 17. That number just doesn't even seem real. Like most women, I never thought I'd be here. When we made the choice to have more kids, I thought it was that simple. I was as surprised as anyone when it didn't happen the first month. Or the fourth. But then it did happen on the fifth try. And I was relieved, excited, and scared at the same time.

Obviously, that didn't end the way I wanted it to, and here I am. 12 cycles since the miscarriage and 17 total. I contemplate giving up on a daily basis. I ride the roller coster of planning, trying, hoping, testing, and grief every 24 days. And then it starts all over.

We've come to the point of some major and scary decisions. Whether or not we decide to pursue medical testing and/or intervention remains to be seen. It's hard to take that next step when I keep thinking next month is it.

There's been a lot of "next months" though, and the hope is starting to fade little by little.

And the next person who tells me to "relax and it will happen" might end up getting kicked in a place that results in some fertility problems of their own. :)

Ambition

In short, I have none. Not when it comes to a career anyway. I just want a job that doesn't make me watch the clock all day and has decent people to talk to. That's it. And I want this job to fall from the sky and land in my lap and say, "Hey Christie, I am a good job for you. I won't suck. Promise!"

I used to think grades and degrees were important. I went after A's like they were the keys to eternal life. And now? Who cares? Want to know my college GPA? Didn't think so. Want to read that essay I had published in a journal? No? Me neither. I'm bored just thinking about it.

Point is, I used to have ambition. I used to want to be somebody. I wanted people to be impressed. But my job experience since college mostly qualifies me to be someone's assistant. Not exactly the most exciting career path. Especially considering how much I hate being told what to do. Occupational hazard, I suppose.

So maybe that's why I'm not really motivated to keep searching out positions where I am one of 400 applicants bragging about my excellent computer skills and office experience.

I think I'll just keep watching the sky for that perfectly gift-wrapped job.

Hey, I can dream.