Discovering Me

Me on having babies, losing babies, trying to have babies and hoping to bring this one home.

Monday, July 30, 2007


30 weeks. How did I get here? So fast and yet so damn slow. Weird. Oh, and it scares the living shit out of me.

We saw Audrey on u/s at 33 weeks. 3 days later she was gone. Just like that. Fine, then not fine anymore. So at 30 weeks, I'm panicking. Natalie strays from her usual routine and I panic. She doesn't give me a good kick when I eat something sweet, I panic. I am controlled enough to not call the doctor every time, but how long can that last?

I start weekly u/s and NST's this week. That will probably be enough to get me through that one day a week...maybe. I am anxious for the next 6 weeks (!) to pass quickly. I need this to go fast. My sanity needs this to go fast.

And yet, I am so not ready. Her room is not remotely ready. We did get the furniture put together and vaguely in the right places. I cleaned out the closet in her room. We bought a car seat and swing. But they are in the garage in their boxes right where we left them when we got home. I only bought them when I did because we had coupons that were going to expire. God forbid I should not use a coupon.

I have a drawer full of receipts. You know, in case she dies I can take stuff back. I didn't return anything of Audrey's...I still have it all. But, this time I am much more organized about where everything is and if it's been opened. You know, just in case.

I feel like such an idiot for letting myself think this might happen, and yet I know I will feel like and idiot if it doesn't and I feel as emotionally unprepared as I did with Audrey.

This is such a shit deal. It's shit that we get to go through what should be one of the most wonderful and exciting times in our lives afraid. Afraid that every time you see an u/s that there will be no heartbeat. Afraid to go to sleep because she might not be there in the morning. So much fear. So much fear mixed with so much love is such a confusing emotion. It makes no sense and is so hard to control or understand.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007


Sweet and innocent, right? Sure.

But... If you look closely, you'll see the shreds of the toy he wore himself out destroying.

Alas, I love him to bits.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Changing Plans, Making Plans and Growing Up

Um, so Carlie didn't work out. Jim wouldn't ever get with it. We tried many, many names. He threw out many, many ridiculous names (Wilhelmina!). We argued, we debated, I cried. He was watching a Bond movie with Natalie Wood and we both said Eureka! Natalie. Natalie Rose.

I suppose, in the end, it keeps with the movie star theme we started with Gracie. We have Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn and, now, Natalie Wood. So she shall be...

The nursery furniture has actually made it into her room and is actually put together. I have brought exactly nothing up from the basement. I did clean out the closets so I could get hers empty. My mom went nuts shopping while she was here, so honestly, I don't know how much stuff I will need out of the basement. That's not all bad since it was all unpacked for Audrey when we lost her and now that it's all packed away, I don't really want to get into it. I know I will, but I'm not there yet.

Gracie is loving Pony Camp again this week. She's with the "big girls" this time (ages 6-14). She's by far the youngest. The first day was great save the fact that some brat called her a baby. I would have thought she might be upset by that, but should have known better. She was genuinely and 100% PISSED OFF about it. That's my girl.

Today she's on her first ever field trip. To a horse show. An hour away. Without me. I didn't even drive. It sucks. I'm a nervous wreck, but she was beside herself excited about it. I almost said she couldn't go, but the thought of seeing her disappointed was just more than I could take. So she's gone. Sniff, sniff.

Had an OB appointment on Tuesday. Last regular appointment before we start NST's on August 1. We'll also schedule the amnio and c-section that day. I'll be 6 weeks from delivery (barring any, you know, issues) at that appointment. Once the first trimester was over, the time has just flown by. I hope it continues to...

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Read the fine print

I've never been good with details. I cannot tell you how many times a detail that I didn't have the time or patience to pay attention to has bitten me in the ass. Suffice it to say, many, many times. It drives my husband crazy. It drives him crazy because he is a Virgo and he can get IMPOSSIBLY lost in the details. We make each other nuts with this circle.

Remember I said I ordered baby furniture? Yeah, it came. In very slim, very un-put-together-like boxes. Oh, and it's sitting in my entryway. Not in the bedroom at the top of the stairs where it goes. I paid $400 for delivery of the stuff, shouldn't it go where it goes? Isn't "delivery" like, delivery to where it goes? I mean, the job's only partway done. Right, and it's not even put together.

Why you ask? Well, partly because a certain major retailer with the initials J and C and a certain monetary denomination in their name sucks. But mostly because I didn't read the tab that said "delivery is to garage or no more that five feet (!) inside main doorway". Oh, and also, "Some Assembly Required".

Seriously. My husband, God love him, can build a 5 billion dollar casino/resort and manage the deal from cradle to grave, but ask him to put together an end table and we have problems. Serious problems.

People, tonight those problems are sitting in my GD entryway. And, I did it to myself. Crap on a cracker.

Did I mention it cost $400 just to get them to my entryway?

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

No Sleep + Pregnant = Cranky as Hell

Jim's been out of town. I sleep great with the bed to myself. Problem is that not one other creature in this house sleeps well when he's gone.

Gracie insists that of daddy is gone then she should get to sleep in his place. Never starts out that way, but it never fails that sometime in the night she sneaks in. Rifle feels the need to be vigilent, so I hear him pace the wood floors and go up and down the stairs all night. Atlas isn't feeling well, so he's making funny noises all night. Mook, well, he's pretty good, but I notice him more since I'm not sleeping because of the other three.

I had plans to get so much done while Jim was gone. There are bare spots in the lawn I intended to get seeded. I wanted to start working on the closet in the baby's room (read: get Jim's shit out of it). I did break down, at my mother's insistence, and order baby furniture which will be here tomorrow. Maybe that will motivate me to get some stuff done in that room.

Oh, hey, get this... I'm still getting used to gardening where it's humid. I'm used to the dry arid climates of the west. Anywho, I'm forever having to look things up to figure out what's going on or what to do. The other day, there's the nasty slimy yellow crap growing in my mulch beds. What the hell is this, I ask. "Dog Vomit Slime Mold" people. How disgusting is that? It's harmless, but totally disgusting looking. One of the stages (after the slimy yellow stage) is that it dries and weeps this red, bloody looking stuff. Un-freaking-real.

So yeah, no sleep, nothing getting done and bloody dog vomit looking stuff in the garden. Good times. Could someone have a drink for me please?

Sunday, July 08, 2007

The Very Hairy Who-Ha*

When I was a kid, I distinctly remember showering with my mother and swearing that I would never have a hairy who-ha like she did. I remember thinking how very unattractive and, well, jungle-y it looked. I have kept that promise and have always been good about keeping things down there trim. I don't do waxes or anything crazy, I just make sure things never get too wild.

As my middle has gotten bigger, it's gotten harder and harder to keep up with my trimming, so the other day I decided to give it what could be the last trim before this baby is born. I grabbed my scissors, hopped in the shower, and went for it.

Gracie came in the bathroom later and noticed the scissors in the shower. She asked why they were there. Crap. She knows what scissors are for. She knows I don't cut my own hair. What could I possibly tell her? I decide to be vague.

"I was trimming my hair" I say.

She replies, "Nuh-uh mommy, you were cutting all that hair on your hairy bum."


Does this mean she sees things the way I did? I mean, does she see it as hairy as I did on my mom? I try so hard. Did my mom try too?

I can live with the fact that I have to wear a pantyliner everyday or I might sneeze and wet myself, but this? My daughter thinks I'm hairy? This I cannot abide.

I may have to suffer through a bikini wax if the middle gets so big that I can't take care of business.

* Wouldn't "The Very Hairy Who-Ha" make a great title for a children's book? Kind of like the one "Everyone Poops"? Hahahahaha, I crack myself up.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Cuter Than Words

Gracie's doing Summer Pony Camp. She's having a ball. I want to go to Pony Camp. It looks really fun. Wanna join?

Monday, July 02, 2007

Holy Hell, I Hate it When She's Right

I was 27 when Jim & I got engaged. We were, of course at my soon-to-be-in-laws' house for the event. I wasn't fully aware of MIL's foibles at that point, but I was certainly sure something wasn't right.

One of the first things she told me after Jim announced our engagement (after the bit about when you have daughters you gain a son, but when you have a son, you lose him to her, was that some doctor told her when she got married (at 20) to have all of her babies by the time she was 27. Sage advice as it turns out.

I was 27 when I had Grace. I was a month shy of 30 when Audrey was born. 31 for the ectopic. The miscarriages were all before 27, but I don't really know how to categorize them because I was in another relationship then. I will be a month shy of 33 when this baby is born.

So far, we have been through loss and IF to get here. Well, at least until I got sick last month. Sicker than I ever remember being in my life. I coughed so hard that I pulled ligaments in my back that had just started to heal.

Until yesterday. When I was sitting in an odd position and swallowed wrong.

And coughed.

Coughed hard while sitting in an odd position with sore ligaments.

And broke a rib.

Good times.

It hurts like a mother fucker. The best part is that there is nothing I can do. I can take Tylenol. Big whoop.

So, as it turns out, she was right. I should have done this before I was 27. Too bad I didn't even get engaged until then.

Oddly, the discomfort isn't what pisses me off the most. What pisses me off is that crazy woman was right.