Prayers for a friend....

facing one of the most difficult days of her life.

If there is one thing the pain of infertility brings, it is a camaraderie in knowing what others who face the same challenge feel. For the past several months I have been following the journey of a friend and her husband as they journey down the road to growing a family.  Their struggle has not been easy but one that she, they continue to face with great optimism, faith and hope.   Their journey has lead them through fertility treatments, surgeries and recently onto IVF.  I've followed their progress daily as she writes eloquently in her blog about the realities of what has happened, and the raw feelings flowing from her heart.  I applaud her for so many reasons; for her continuous optimism, when I know first hand how hard it can be to find a positive in the piles of negatives.  I applaud her for her honesty, for sharing the up and down battles and explaining the process in details for others on the journey to be able to relate.  And I applaud her for having the courage and the strength to share her story openly, honestly and with raw emotions.  I struggled for so many years in silence behind the walls of my home, too afraid to open up about the pain and heartache we were facing.  And so I believe it is for that reason I am most proud of her.  Not only do I hope she finds sharing her story to be cathartic but I hope she knows how much she is helping other women, other couples going through similar challenges.

This past Saturday morning I texted her bright and early to say my thoughts and prayers were with her.  Saturday was the day they would be able to test to see if the IVF had resulted in pregnancy. While I continued on with our day, my mind drifted back to them with great frequency.  I checked her blog several times and was thrilled on early Sunday morning, when I read they had learned their IVF was successful, she was pregnant!  I felt so much happiness for them and wanted to reach through the phone to hug them as we exchanged texts of congrats followed by cheery responses.

I dreamed for them of what their journey would be like and couldn't wait to follow along with their joy online.  And then this morning I received the following text...

"We had an early miscarriage. :-("

I was in the middle of an appointment when the text came through and immediately my heart sank.  I fought back tears for her as I tried to finish talking with the student I was working with.  After I had a free moment, I texted her back and expressed my condolences.  While our journey with infertility was unpleasant and difficult, I have never experienced the heartache and pain of having a positive test, followed by the shattering news of a loss.

I have prayed several times for my friend today and that God will watch over them.  It is very difficult to understand a larger plan when what you are living is so hard.  I've talked with her tonight and find her determination, hope and faith unwavering.  It is because of this, I know she will find happiness at the end of this struggle.  God answers all prayers and I know someday my friend will make an amazing mother.

Until that day, I continue to pray for her, for them, and that their journey to a happy ending is near.

Prayers, love and hope to you, my friend.

Until next time,
Angie

A castle project

My husband has always been a fan of Castles.  In his several years of studying abroad I couldn’t tell if it was the interest of living in another country that enticed him or the fact that he could tour and see first-hand all of the beautiful castles still standing around this globe. 

When he became the father to two boys, one of which is interested in building and creating things, Jarrett mentioned the idea of someday building a castle for the boys (he included) to play with.  Jarrett and Michael over the years have brainstormed what the castle would look like, have drawn out plans on several pieces of paper and they’ve talked endlessly about what they all could play when their “dream” became a reality. 

Jarrett knowing his limited knowledge in building, called upon his dad’s expert advice and mastery building skills to help his dream become a creation.  When Papa retired late last fall, the plans on paper started to take shape in person.  For several weeks, Jarrett, Papa, Michael, Gabriel and almost all the neighbor kids would gather in our garage and work on constructing their masterpiece.  Definitely a “boys project” I took a step back and was busy occupied with other things while they began construction.  The kids thought it was the coolest thing and before long the parents of the neighbor kids were asking for progress updates.  I’ve also spotted a few other dads from the neighborhood in the garage admiring the progress.

In the weeks and months Papa, Jarrett and the boys have decided to making this castle so amazing, I’ve come to recognize the true gifts this project has brought.  When it is finished I can assure you, it is going to be the most beautiful, detailed and perfect castle in the whole Southwest, maybe even the U.S..  What I’ve come to appreciate most is the time they’ve spent together and the memories made that can’t be taken away.  I’ve seen the way Michael’s eyes light up when he hears Papa’s coming over to work on the castle with him and I’ve seen the joy Jarrett is getting out of working hand in hand with his dad on something Jarrett will enjoy just as much as the younger boys.  And I feel like I’ve gotten a glimpse into what Jarrett must have been like as a young boy.  His passion for castle’s not something he developed as an adult, but something he’s loved since he was young.  Jarrett’s parents tells me about when Jarrett was a young boy he would spend hours in his room playing quietly setting up one set of soldiers against another army and having battles back and forth.  I can tell he can’t wait to do the same thing in a few days when the castle is all complete.

The best thing about the castle has been the joy I see everyone getting.  This past weekend, Jarrett was out of town and Nana and Papa wonderful took the kids for me all day Saturday evening and the entire day on Sunday.  Now only did it give me time to rest, to catch up on my own projects but it also gave them time to work on finishing the castle.  I haven’t seen a final picture yet but from what I have seen, it is story book perfect. 

For Easter the kids got a medieval castle set that includes archery men, soldiers on horses, catapults and  other weaponry they can use on their new project.  While the castle is not yet complete, the boys have had hours of fun battling it out with each other. 

In this fast-paced life we all seem to lead, it has been fun watching the boys come together, take time to work together on their project and see first hand what they have created.  While the castle is as sturdy as ever and will probably be around for Gabriel and Michael’s grandchildren to play with, their sentimental mom, finds the most value out of the time they spent together creating it.  Someday when our boys are grown and have children of their own, I hope they reflect back on their youth and the memories they had with their dad and grandfather building this masterpiece together.  I know I say it all the time, but I feel ever so reminded of it daily, the minutes and times we have together with our children is so fleeting, the sand falls faster and faster through the hourglass as the grains become less.  The memories we have to capture in those small granulars of sand, is what we can look back on in the future.

Thank you Papa for ALL of the hours of labor, work, sweat and love you’ve put into this Castle.  It is truly a masterpiece for so many reasons.

I can’t wait to see the hours of fun, you will get to have with it.

Until next time,

Angie

Week 9... When will this end?

Truth revealed here, I’m actually writing this post on day 3 of my 10^th week, but who’s really keeping track?!  ME- actually. I am firmly aware of every single day, minute and moment of this experience thus far.   The reason why I’m so keenly aware of what week and day it is, is that I’ve been SUPER DUPER sick.  Every minute, of every single day. No such luck with just having morning sickness with this amazing pregnancy journey, nope, somehow I got the "sick all the time" experience card.  In some ways I blame myself…. I was the one who said for all those years, I’d give anything to be pregnant, I’d be super sick every single minute of every single day, if only God would help answer my prayers.

And low and behold he did.  Every single prayer, including my willingness to bear the sickness.  So here I am sipping Sprite (one of two things that taste’s absolutely tolerable (not good, just tolerable)- everything else is on the “bad tasting” list) and trying to write a recap of what happened last week.

The truth is, I honestly feel bad both physically and emotionally for how I feel about being pregnant.  So far, it is nothing like I hoped, prayed, dreamed it would be.  At risk of being too graphic and unpleasant—maybe I should give a warning to stop reading now if you don’t want to hear an emotional, over-tired, bloated and sick cranky lady go on and on.  So far pregnancy has been comprised of feeling terrible, horrible every single day, followed by brief moments (when we get an ultrasound) of excitement and awe of the miracle actually taking place inside of me. 

This past week (week 9) brought a time when I had become so worn down, so over the top sick, that I started to waive the white flag.  I texted Jarrett one afternoon, as I laid on the rock ground in our backyard (yes, I literally laid on the hard ground) to try and get some sun.  One of the 15 “useful remedies” for getting rid of nausea and vomiting in pregnancy is to “get some fresh air and sunshine”.  Earlier in the day I had gone through the entire list of other suggestions and decided might as well try the sun and fresh air.  Now you may ask yourself, why did you lie on the ground, no it didn’t say anything about that in my list.  The lying part wasn’t actually by choice, anytime I got vertical that day, my stomach would regurgitate anything left in it.  Hence the need to lie flat on the ground.  I texted Jarrett, “Can you talk in 5 minutes?  I’m feeling really sad and can’t stand feeling this sick anymore.”  I hit send and before my finger could away from the screen, he was calling me.  Being that  he is really the only one I can truly share with how I’m feeling, I broke down.  I said, “Jarrett, I had no idea it would be this hard. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t keep feeling this sick without getting worn down even more.”  He, as wonderful as he had been through this whole thing, let me vent, complain and get out my emotions, and then he said, “It’s time to call the doctor and ask for some medicine.”  I wanting to be “as tough as nails” like my other girlfriends (moms) are that have been pregnant, but I was waving the white flag.  I agreed, hung up the phone and called my doctor.

As most doctors offices (at least I think this is how most are), I left a message with the triage nurse who would call me back before the end of the day.  I then went to lay on the couch- in what has become permanently indented with my body imprint.  Less than an hour later the nurse called me back as I was literally choke-gagging down some cottage cheese for lunch.  I answered the phone with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.  She said hello and asked how I was doing.  In a typical, no thought response, I muttered, “I’m okay. Thank you.” To which she completely called my bluff.  Like a mom can sense when something is wrong with her child.  Nurse Jan- a stranger on the other end of the line, had seen through my attempt and called me to bear my truth.  I, now choking back tears, said, “Actually, I’m not okay.  I’m having a really hard time.”  She went onto to listen carefully as I told her the struggles I’ve been having with trying to get any food down and how my goal of 3 liters of water a day, sometimes turns out more to be like 40 ounces total.  I said, “It takes like I’m drinking pennies in my water and I can’t stand the taste anymore.  It makes me sick.”  An obvious expert at listening to hormonal, pregnant ladies, she said, “I’m so sorry honey. We are going to get something to help you.”  I wanted to reach through the phone and bear hug her like there was no tomorrow.  She made me feel like I wasn’t the biggest failure as a pregnant mother (seriously I felt like I’m already failing the child and I haven’t even given birth to) and that it was okay I was asking for something to help feel better.  She said she’d call in a prescription and walked me through the instructions of when to take it.  I asked her if the medicine could harm the baby and she reassured me it is completely safe. 

Three hours later, as I pulled into Walgreens, I couldn’t wait to get home, until bed to take the medicine with the hopes of finding some relief.  That night when the time came, I took my two pills (which by the way are super cute- they have a picture of a pink pregnant belly on  them).  I drank an entire huge glass of water and let my head hit the pillow.  It was 7:34 p.m.  That night, despite getting up 6 times to pee, I slept the entire night, only to wake up the next morning feeling human once again.  While I didn’t feel wonderful, I felt human, and that my friends was a MAJOR improvement.  For the first time since February 8, I slept through the night and didn’t lie awake in pain, holding my stomach, from the hours of 1:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m.  A MAJOR improvement indeed. 

In other exciting news, I have a bulge.  Before you get too excited, let me clarify.  It isn’t a baby bulge.  It’s a bloated, unattractive and totally NOT cute bulge.  I understand with pregnancy one’s digestive track slows down considerably to allow the body to harvest the nutrients out of the food before the body expels it.  While great news for the growing fetus, it is crappy news (or lack thereof literally) for the host.  How do you like that, I’ve started calling myself a host.  Kind of like a leach clings onto its host to suck the blood from, the fetus inside of me is sucking out the nutrients and leaving the waste behind.  Yet another wonderful thing about pregnancy.  Is that where the glow comes from?  NOT!  Thankfully I’ve expanded my diet to include prunes- they work wonders and as long as I pretend I’m eating a squishy grape, I can get them down without throwing up.  I’ve learned to appreciate going to the bathroom more than ever. 

One more comment about that before I step off of this soap box…. This whole process is a catch 22.  See the only way from keeping myself from tossing the contents of my stomach or at least dry-retching them over and over, is by keeping it from getting empty.  This means you have to eat regularly and so far carbs seem to be about the only thing that will make it down.  Like loading a clothes washer, you can only load so many clothes before the machine starts vibrating across the floor with a beeping noise of being unbalanced.  I’m completely unbalanced and it doesn’t feel good.  I’m stepping down now.

In an effort to try and turn this crabby train around I’m going to attempt to do what other beautifully pregnant bloggers do and share highlights.  Here is my attempt….

How far along are you? 9 weeks

How I’m feeling?  Think I’ve been pretty clear on that front.

Total weight gain…  Not sure… think I’m down 2 pounds from the scale I have at home, but feel like I’m full of at least 5 pounds of bloat

How big is baby? The size of a grape.

Maternity clothes…  Nope.  I’m planning my attempt to do this wardrobe thing on the cheap---- many of my friends are done having babies, thus they’ve passed along their maternity clothes.  So I’m brainstorming thrift stores, with half off days, to shop at when the time comes.  Additionally, I’m tagging those clothes in my closet which can serve as maternity shirts too. 

Sleep…  FINALLY, with the help of those pretty little belly pills.

Best moment this week… Seeing just how happy and excited Jarrett is about this news.  He is so thrilled.  Oh and he continues to tell me I’m beautiful, although I won’t let him come closer than 100 feet to me.

Movement…  Just the gas rolling around inside

Food cravings… NONE, wouldn't eat at all if I didn't have to.

Food aversions… EVERYTHING.

Belly button in or out… In

What I miss… Feeling good and going for a run. 

What I’m looking forward to… Getting through the first trimester, being able to tell people and to (Pray to God) feeling better.

Milestones…. We have to decide about which of the many genetic tests we want to do.  I’m “advanced maternal age” for cripes sake. 

Until next time,

Angie

PS:  For any friends or family reading this, and who are suffering infertility, please accept my apologizes.  I realize whole heartedly that my honest-unpleasant feedback about the raw emotions, feelings I’m experiencing, are gut-wrenchingly painful to read as someone wanting nothing more than to be a parent.  I am sorry.  I do not intend to cause harm, pain or sadness for you.  In fact, I’m internally struggling with myself each and every day for feeling this way.   I feel sad, disappointed and overwhelmed most days for not embracing this news with 100% happiness.  The truth is, this baby was a complete surprise.  Jarrett and I thought we were finished with having children.  Our three adopted children are more blessings than we thought we deserved.  To have God grant us this pregnancy after years and years of infertility and being told I would never conceive naturally is nothing short of a miracle.  I recognize that and I’m still trying to process everything.  I write this blog to recount my honest, true emotions and so that someday I look back and remember how thankful I need to always remain.  If you can find the strength to continue to ready my posts, I hope you can ignore my negativity and instead find hope in the fact that if “NEVER” can turn into “REALITY” for us, then your dream of becoming a parent can be a reality and not just a dream too.   Please know I do not diminish, lessen or even have gotten just how painful and unpleasant the infertility journey is.  I pray for you, I know what you feel, and I beg you… Keep the faith and stay the course, the adventure on the other side of the obstacle, is worth the journey.

Week 8- still sick

Week 8. February 21, 2015

This week feels in some way the same as last week.  I kind of feel like groundhogs day only instead of the script of that movie, my movies goes something like this…

I feel sick all day and night.  I feel like I have the flu 24 hours a day every single day.  I can’t sleep.  I have to watch what I eat because it is a constant game of eating enough to not throw up due to an empty stomach and eating too much but too few fiber and having problems the other way.  It is a delicate game of balance in which I can’t seem to find my grip.  I keep falling off the damn balance beam.  I can’t imagine that is helping the way I feel either. 

I am worn out.  Between not sleeping, feeling like I’ve had the flu for 3 weeks and taking care of the kids, the only way I manage is by counting down the hours, then the minutes until I can find my favorite spot on the couch.  Seriously, I don’t even know who I am anymore.  Jarrett reassures me that it should end by the beginning of the second trimester.  While I appreciate his positivity, I can’t even imagine how I’m going to get through at least 5 more weeks of this.

And that’s part of the reason I feel so emotional.  For so many years, I longed, prayed, wanted nothing more, than to experience the feeling of a little person growing inside of me.  And here I sit today, never having imagined just how difficult, how unpleasant (yes I did just say that), how hard this whole “wonderful experience” would be.  I can’t even believe I’m saying that.  As an infertility expert, ( think I can consider myself an expert after the years of fertility drugs, the 5 rounds of insemination and the multiple fertility doctors that confirmed… “You are infertile.” ), I honestly struggle with how I’m feeling.  I feel so disappointed in myself that I can’t feel overwhelming happiness.  That I’m not crying tears of pure joy of the true magnitude of this miracle.  I just can’t get there.  No, not yet.  I’m too bothered by how horrible I feel. 

One of the hardest things is trying to hide it, to pretend everything is perfectly normal.  The truth is, just getting out of bed is a huge challenge.  And yet, I have to “pretend” I’m my happy, cheery self at work, with family and friends.  I have to pretend to hide the fact that I am about to be sick all over the place as I stand to talk to our neighbors.  I’ve found myself becoming more and more withdrawn.  I was always the mom to stand outside each day after school to greet the boys as they got off the bus.  I haven’t done that in weeks now.  It just seems like too much energy to walk outside.  The nauseousness I feel  is so overwhelming I don’t want to talk to anyone, not even my family. I want to lie on the couch, zone out to TV and pretend, just for a second, I don’t feel worse than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. 

The kids, specifically the boys, know something is up, but don’t ask any questions.  The boys see me lying on the couch day after day and they hear me talk about how my stomach feels so crappy.  And then there’s Isabelle, it seems to affect her more than the others.  She’s always been my shadow and she is definitely not use to seeing me lay around like a bump on a log.  Every morning she comes to me and asks, “Mommy don’t feel good?”  I tell her the same thing every morning, “NO, honey I don’t feel well.”  To which she always hugs me.  She’s also been more clingy lately.  She insists on being right next to me every second of every day.  While I lay on the couch, she has to lay with me.  Yes I know, the girl who never stops moving, stops to lay with me.  And she insists on being either on top of me or as close to me as possible.  Normally I’d love her cuddling, I know that time is dwindling, and yet, it is so hard to let her be on top.  Everything from my mouth to the bottom of my stomach hurts and while I’m not “showing” my stomach is definitely bloated and hurts. I try to be as patient and cuddly as possible, just sometimes I don’t feel like I want anyone near me.  And by near I mean anyone within a 500 foot radius.  Again, who am I?

Earlier this week, I went to the doctor for my next appointment.  Where my last appointment was more of an information gathering meeting, along with a blood draw, and ultrasound; this appointment was the real deal… full exam and all.  Due to my ‘advanced maternal age’ (if that doesn’t make you feel old), the doctor went over every possible genetic screening she would recommend we do.  I didn’t think Jarrett needed to be at this appointment.  I was caught off guard when she wanted me to tell her which genetic tests we’d like to do.  Yeah, I read the packet of information she gave me last time, but I didn’t know I’d have to make decisions so soon.  I said, “To be honest, I’m still processing that this is really happening, I’m sorry I didn’t know I needed to decide this now.”  She was understanding and said we should discuss and give them a call with our decision.  After the “inspection” that my insides are all good, the doctor wanted to do another ultrasound to make sure everything was okay.  Being that I am like a fish out of water when it comes to pregnancy, I have no idea what is normal, what is something to be concerned about, and what is because, here’s my favorite word again, my ‘advanced maternal age.’  I agreed, why would I not want to receive confirmation that everything is okay.  Gosh darn if, for how terrible I’m feeling, I sure hope this little person is loving every minute of their all-inclusive, free resort stay.  The doctor said now that I’m 8 weeks they should be able to see everything without using the long wand- my term not hers, and that by rubbing the sensor on my stomach they’d be able to see it everything was okay.  At this point, I honestly could care less what way they use to check the fetus, I feel so terrible, it isn’t like its going to make me feel worse, and I know I’ll have my business exposed in more revealing ways in the future, so what’s the difference?  I guess a tiny bit of me appreciated her thoughtfulness though, the pre-pregnancy Angie definitely would have preferred that preference. 

So she slapped a bunch of goo up on my bloated stomach and started rubbing the wand (for lack of knowing what the real thing is actually called) all around.  In addition to the doctor, her nurse was in the room and while they watched the screen carefully, I watched them.  Unlike last time, when the minute the wand was "applied", and up popped the embro (don’t even know if I’m using the right term), this time there was nothing.  Seriously, this time it was nothing but a bunch of cloudy nothing.  I looked from the screen to Dr. B and then to her nurse.  They were exchanging glances, and I felt for the first time, something was wrong.  Dr. B continued to move things around and started sharing reassuring comments…  “I’m not very good with these ultrasounds, thank goodness I’m not an ultrasound tech.”  For the second time that visit, I wished I would have told Jarrett to come with me.  I felt my heart slow and the anxiety start to fill my insides.  My mind started to race… and immediately it went to blaming myself… “Something bad happened because you couldn’t get happy about this.  While you focused on yourself feeling so sick, meanwhile something bad happened to the baby.”  Thankfully Dr. B interrupted the internal fight I was having with myself and said, “this is really common for me not to be able to see anything this way.  She then decided to do the ultrasound the other way and up on the screen popped the baby, embro, fetus (whatever it technically is at this point).  Right away I was surprised by how flipping big it had gotten from the last time.  And while I starred at “it’s” size, Dr. B and her nurse smiled and said, “Look at that strong heartbeat. Everything looks great!”  This ultrasound was a lot blurrier than the one last time and I’m not sure if it was because it wasn’t as good of machine, the operator wasn’t as experienced or it is was because the little acrobat was moving constantly.  I had read in the one of the many books I’ve checked out from the library that by this week the little monster is moving, but I never thought I’d see them doing flips.  Immediately I thought of Isabelle and wondered if all goes well with this pregnancy, if I’m going to have two runners on my hands. 

After the wave of anxiety left my body, Dr. B told me to make an appointment for 4 weeks from now and to call with any questions or concerns.  I got myself put back together and checked out.  Just like last time, everyone in the office expressed congratulations and I said “thank you” not fully absorbing the weight of their well-wishes.  It still feels like a dream… minus the dry-heaving, never ending nauseousnes sand exhaustion.

The other side of this emotional roller coaster is trying to figure out when to tell anyone or everyone.  Jarrett received a lot of confidence from Dr. Balk at our last appointment when she said, “After seeing a heartbeat the chance of carrying the baby full term is around 95%.”  Now that I’m at 8 weeks and a heartbeat has been confirmed, I understand the percentage increases to 98% but I’m still leery to  shout the news from the rooftops.  Right now the only people that know, other than Jarrett and I, is my sister MaeLyn and soon-to-be brother in law Aaron.  See, our wonderful, miraculous timing is so great in that, I will no longer be able to be in or even attend their wedding, as I’m not allowed to travel… read.. I could do into labor at any time.  We decided we needed to tell them right away for many reasons… a)I’m the matron of honor in their wedding, b) I’ve been helping to plan a lot of the details, c), kind of an important thing to share, if I can’t be there for the actual day.  We decided the risk to share wasn’t as great as the need to pass along information.  Therefore, we told them after our first ultrasound.  They were extremely supportive, never even questioning why this happened when it did.  They remind me, it is a miracle. 

And now we struggle with who to tell next and when to share the details… Jarrett wants to tell his parents soon.  Actually tomorrow.  His parents have decided to sell their house, now that they are “retired” and want to move into a retirement community.  With our surprising news, we’d like to encourage them to “move” closer to us to help with the village of kids we will soon be parenting.  It takes a village to raise a village right?   So the plan is to share the news with them tomorrow.  I made up a valentine’s day card to give them, even though we are a few weeks “late.”  Get it, it goes along with the whole theme.  Here’s a picture of the card and what it says…

So they will be the next one’s to know.  And from there, we plan to wait a while to say anything else.  We hope to share the news with the kids and our other family members at the beginning of the second trimester.  I look forward to that day and pray the weeks between now and then, go quickly, bring me a relief from the sickness and that the baby continues to grow healthily.

Until next time,
Angie

It's the small things....

that sometimes mean the most!

This week Jarrett is on the East coast for work.  He's been gone since last Friday and while its normally a challenge to handle everything while he's gone, this time I was even more nervous about it.  

Maybe its the hormones, maybe its just me. So when Jarrett's mom and dad offered to help me while he was going to be gone, I was so thankful.

The past 5 days that he's been gone have actually been manageable only because of them.  This past weekend we had 3 baseball games (in less than 20 hours) and not only were they at all three of them to help me with the kids, but they took the boys all night Saturday evening and on Sunday, they took all three kids!  Honestly, they took them from right after church until that night.  They treated the kids to all the fun things Nana and Papa's do with their grandchildren including a movie and popcorn at the theater.  

It was SO relaxing on Sunday to have the entire day to myself, and while I'm going to admit it felt very weird not to have three younger people to keep track of, I continued to remind myself, this was a day I could use for anything I wanted to do.  I spent the day by going to the grocery store and by working on my sister's wedding invitations.  It was amazing how many things I got done.  And even though I was lonely, I enjoyed the day tremendously.  

I'm so thankful for their help.  

And if it couldn't have gotten any better, it actually did.

This morning when the kids and I got up and went to grab a clean bowl from the dishwasher we started the night before, all we found was stinky dirty dishes.  I didn't have time to investigate it too much, I wrote it off to, well this is the one thing that had to break while dad was gone (seriously anytime he goes away there is always something that breaks).  I tried to reset the system, it wouldn't work, so we resorted to hand washing a few bowls, leaving all the rest, just to get us by.  As typical mornings go, we raced out the door 10 minutes late and left the house like a twister had blown through.

My father-in-law can fix anything so once I got to work, I texted him and asked him if he might have time to stop over to the house and look at our dishwasher.   He of course said he'd be happy to.  At work he called me to say he figured out it was a bad computer board and that we'd have to have it replaced.   

After our conversation I thought, we'll that will probably be another couple hundred dollars to get that fixed and the darn thing isn't even 3 years old.  Oh well, that's just how life goes.

And then I got home and found this....

You see that?!  It may just look like a pile of dishes to you, but to me, it has been the highlight of my day.  Those dishes that you see there are clean dishes.  Not only did my father-in-law stop over and spend many hours trying to fix our dishwasher,  he then spent even more hours researching how he can find the part to help save us some money.  And on top of that he then washed our dirty dishes so we didn't have to come home to find dirty dishes!!!!!

Is that not the nicest thing ever?  Seriously I got all teary-eyed when I put the pieces together that they were cleaned and that he had done it for me.

There are many things in life that mean a lot.  These past 5 days, which I normally would have faced knowing they would be stressful and sometimes overwhelming have been so manageable because of the great help of Nana and Papa.

From the quiet and peaceful afternoon to the clean dishes sitting upon my counter, I'm oh so thankful for their help.  While it may seem to them like what they did was small, to me it seemed oh so big and it really means the most.

Thanks so much for all of your help!

Until next time,
Angie

What was that you said?

This afternoon as I was preparing dinner, Gabriel was talking to me about his day.  As I reached over the stove to ground up some hamburger I noticed him taking a look at my belly.

The boys have been VERY curious about this whole pregnancy idea, asking me daily if the baby in my stomach is growing, if "she" (they think or want it to be a girl- just so Isabelle has someone to play with and stops playing with their toys) can hear me or them talking, and just how big my stomach is going to get.

Gabriel was in mid sentence talking about his school day when he said, "Mom, Dad says you're putting on a bit of weight."  Upon the words hitting my ears and the seconds it took for me to comprehend what he said, I turned to Gabriel and must have given him a look of "WHAT, DID YOU JUST SAY?"  Gabriel while completely innocent in sharing his comment, immediately realized what he said must have been not-the-right-thing-to-say because he immediately started backtracking.... "Um, well I mean, um, I mean, um it kind of, just a little bit, not really actually, looks like you might, um, are kind of going to have a baby, maybe."  

I couldn't help but laugh.  Poor kid was digging out of that hole he jumped in as quickly as he could and I don't think he ever meant any insult.  

I think Gabriel made an immediate mental note to never ever say anything about weight to a girl again.  

It was only a few seconds later when I texted Jarrett to say... Guess what Gabriel just told me you said....  

Needless to say, I got a phone call a second after the text was delivered letting me know, Gabriel's translation was nowhere near what Dad actually said.  

I'll mark today's comments down in the file... "Things Women NEVER want to hear!"  

Until next time,

Angie

It's real... Week 7

Monday, February 16, 2015
Week 7

Last Friday afternoon, I sat in the lobby of my new OBGYN's office nervous.  For years I've been going to my "lady doctor" with hope that just maybe I could get pregnant.  Now I was sitting there, with five positive pregnancy tests at home, a week of feeling like I've had the flu every single minute of every single day and night, and I was waiting for a confirmation.... a confirmation from a doctor telling me the tests were right.

Jarrett joined me at the appointment and maybe it's common for pregnant ladies to feel like this, but while I have a million and one emotions about this news, Jarrett's nothing but elated/excited/over the moon happy.  Having him sit next to me, I could feel his happiness and pride in our news. I watched the minutes tick by on my watch and couldn't wait to get back there to meet with the doctor.  For I had three kids back home with a baby sitter I told I'd be back to in less than an hour  (they told me it would only be a 30 minute appointment).

I had already peed in a cup and didn't know how long it would take to get the results.  Seriously, at home, the results came back instantly, no need to wait the three minutes... all of them read "pregnant" immediately. After three other women were called back, the door finally opened and the nurse called my name.

Jarrett and I stood up and followed her behind the frosty glass door.  We immediately went to the scale.  Now let me take a moment to pause.... I do not own a scale, I never have.  The only time I'm ever weighed is when I go to the doctors office for my annual exam.  I try not to let numbers guide me in life, instead I try to go by how I feel, how my clothes fit, how I look in the mirror.  Getting on the scale within 5 steps of walking behind the frosted glass, it was like a red light hitting me in the head.  I realize I'm going to have to change my way of thinking and the purchase of a scale is soon in my future.  I need to get use to seeing the scale climb higher and higher, and I think maybe seeing baby increments of increase at home might be easier than larger ones between appointments.  Ahhhh, I digress.

I stood on the scale and she recorded my weight.  Knowing I was already 6 weeks pregnant, I wondered how much, if any weight, I had already gained.  After writing down my lovely number, we followed her to an exam room where she instructed me to sit up on the exam table.  No matter how I sat, I made the paper sheet crinkle and crackle in every single way.  I was vividly aware, I was the patient.  As a mom of three and a wife of a cancer survivor, I'm usually the one sitting in the comfy chair taking in all the information from the doctor, not the patient.  Today I was the one all the attention was focused on.  The nurse took my blood pressure, 126 over 74.  She said it was good, but I could tell my nerves were making my heart race.  She recorded the numbers and said, "Dr. B will be in to see you shortly."  The door closed and it was just Jarrett and me again.

While it was only a few minutes, it felt like hours, and finally a knock followed by the opening of the door.  A beautiful, young lady, with curly long hair walked in carrying a laptop.  I smiled and wondered if she was another nurse.  I reached out my hand to shake hers and she introduced herself.  "I'm Dr. B, nice to meet you Angela."  And there was another reminder, I was in a new place... I'm only Angela to people I'm meeting for the first time or when I'm in trouble by my mom or dad.

With the gentle but kind grip of her handshake, and the smile on her face, some of my nerves disappeared.  Before she said anything else she said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."  Even with five positive tests at home, hearing her say those words, were still just as shocking.  Jarrett and I looked at each other, smiled and as he said, "thanks!", I said, "I'm still surprised."  As we started talking, it soon became clear to her why we were so surprised, why this pregnancy is a miracle and nothing short of that.

I explained... We have been married for more than 11 years and haven't been  birth control since we got married.  We tried for many years to have a family and could never get pregnant.  We went through rounds of fertility treatments, fertility drugs for years, 5 rounds of insemination, and not a single positive test.  I have PCOS and in addition to cysts, I have endometiosis.  In 2013, there was a large cyst/tumor that was removed from my right ovary and then they went into do the surgery they found endometriotris in several places that had to be removed. Additionally my husband is a cancer survivor and went through chemo which had long term effects for him.  Our fertility doctor told us that the chances of us conceiving on our own were slim to none and that the only chances of us possibly conceiving were if we did IVF.  We were eventually led down the road of adoption to which we have three beautiful children.  We thought our family was complete and then, we learned we were wrong.

As I shared the details of our story, it was almost as if I could see my doctors heart warm to us.  She smiled as we talked about what a surprise it was, and then she said, "Your guy's story makes me love my job.  You're some of my favorite patients."  She went through several additional questions and boy was I thankful Jarrett was there.  I know the role of the patient support, I've played that position many times.  This time Jarrett was there for me, and I couldn't have been happier.  I knew I had a hundred or so questions to ask and yet sitting on that uncomfortable exam table, I couldn't think of one.  Maybe its the crinkly paper that makes one's mind go blank.

The doctor told us about prenatal vitamins and the importance of drinking water.  She said to drink 3 liters of water a day!  Holy water Batman!  I already have to pee every 2 hours, and I'm not drinking nearly enough water.  I think I might just move into the bathroom for the next 8 months.  She then asked us if we had any questions and Jarrett started right in.

• What foods should she avoid?
• A:  A whole list of things, she gave us a packet of paper to read.
• How can she find a way to get more sleep?  Right now she doesn't sleep more than 4 hours a night.
• A:  There's nothing really that can be done. That's the mother's body preparing for when the baby arrives and the baby is up every couple of hours (Side note:  What the h$^%:  Seriously, I remember with Isabelle the first year of her life, we didn't get any sleep.  No one told me it would be almost a whole year of no sleep BEFORE the baby even comes, followed by a whole another year of no sleep again.  I was reminded of yet another perk of adoption).
• Angie will be 35 when the baby is born.  Given her age and our past struggle with infertility, is she at a higher risk or considered a high-risk pregnancy?
• A: Yes, because she will be at 35 years of age upon delivery, she is considered in advanced maternal age (I so dislike that term).  Given that factor, plus your infertility background you would be considered a high risk pregnancy.  (I thought to myself, great, as if I don't have enough emotions running through my mind, then here's another thing to add to the list.  And then I tried to reassure myself, more regular monitoring could be a good thing, it will provide me with more reassurance right?
• Angie is a runner... I jumped in.  I love to run and less than a month ago I ran a half marathon.  Is it okay if I still run or would you advise against it.  
• A; She said, running short distances and making sure your heart rate stays below X amount (sadly I don't remember what she said), I think it would be okay.  That being said, if something would happen as a result of running, how would you feel?  If that is something you wouldn't want to face, I would advise you to do other exercise activities, like walking or swimming.  So basically, I don't advise you to run until after you have the baby.
• She has O negative blood type and I understand some time's a woman's body with this blood type will start to reject the fetus... do we need to worry?
• A; There are certain things you want to watch for and call us immediately... any bleeding or severe cramping.  If you haven't had any of those things happen, that's a good sign.  But we will monitor you, so make you let us know if anything like that happens.
• Finally, the question, I was most dreading and praying for an answer I wanted to hear really badly... Angie's sister is getting married in September, specifically September 19 and it is back in Iowa.  Will she be able to go?
• A:  Looking down at her computer and calculating how many weeks along I will be she said, You will be 38 weeks at that time, and that is considered full term.  We do NOT advise any travel after 36 weeks for risk of going into labor.  If you would travel to the wedding and go into labor you would deliver back there and then you'd have to find a way to get a newborn back here.  They wouldn't have any of your medical history or be familiar with your pregnancy, therefore I'm sorry but I don't see anyway that you will be able to go.  (Hearing her say the words I feared, but secretly knew deep down was the real only answer to our question, made me sad.  I've looked so forward to MaeLyn and Aaron's wedding and thought, even if it was just one month later.  But as I think of that, I'm reminded again, just how much my life is not in my own plan, but in God's plan.  This was suppose to happen, and happen now.  Who am I to question or feel sad about, so I try to to push those feelings down and give thanks to God that he's showing us, he's watching out and hearing our prayers.

I think Dr. B could see the disappointment in hearing the words, "You can't go to your baby sisters wedding... the one you are the Matron of Honor in" and so she said, The next step in this process is for you to to have an ultrasound so we can check the embro and make sure everything is okay.  Now that you are past 6 weeks, we should be able to see the heartbeat.  Usually we do the ultrasound in a week or so followed by blood work,  would it give you some peace if we tried to do everything today to make sure everything is going okay?  Doing my best to hold back the tears forming in my eyes, I said, "Yes please."  Now keep in mind my appointment was at 2:30 p.m., we weren't taken back until almost three and as she was saying this, it was well after 3:25 on Friday, the 13th (of February).  She said, "excuse me one minute, I'll go see if I can make anything happen for today."  She left the room, I looked at Jarrett, didn't say one word, but he knew what I was thinking..  He said, "I know MaeLyn and Aaron will understand.  They will be so happy for us, you don't have to feel sad."  After all this time, he knows what I'm thinking and I don't have to verbalize a word.  

It seemed Dr. B returned right away and said, "We are going to fit you in.  Jennifer will be in shortly to take you to get an ultrasound and we are going to draw some blood now."  The nurse was right behind her.  As the nurse prepped my arm, Dr. B said, "Here is a packet of information we usually give you at your next meeting.  I can tell you like information so I'm going to give you this now and you can bring it back the next time we meet and review any questions you have.  She smiled again, told us congratulations and that she'd see us soon.  By the time she left the room, I looked over at the nurse working on my arm and she had already filled one vile and had 4 more left to do.  Thankfully she made the whole thing pain free and I told myself I better get use to having blood drawn too.  

Before she finished drawing my blood, Jennifer the ultrasound tech was standing at our door.  She came in, introduced herself and led us down the hall to her room.  I thanked her over and over for getting us in the same day and told her how much it meant to us that they made things happen.  She led us into the tiny room, Jarrett took his seat in the corner.  She let me use the bathroom again (seriously it had been almost an hour and a half and it was time to go). I got ready for the ultrasound and then a knock at the door.  I said, "come in" and the door opened. To our surprise it wasn't Jennifer, but instead Dr. B.  She said, "I wanted to come watch if that's okay.  I'm so excited for you guys!"  Behind her was Jennifer who came and she started the ultrasound.

As an infertile woman, I use to think I had had more ultrasounds than some second and three time moms, and yet it was never for the exciting news of having a baby.  It was usually because of some pesky cyst causing trouble.  In the many times of having an ultrasound, I've come to know what the screen looks like, not that I necessarily know what I'm looking at but I've come to recognize what seems normal and wasn't isn't.

With Dr. B standing next to me, Jarrett at my other side and Jennifer by my knees, the ultrasound began and immediately I saw it, him or her, I don't know.  Right there, like a perfect balloon sack with a tiny tiny baby was in the middle of the screen, and within a second I noticed the beating heartbeat.  It was beating rapidly.  It was like the world had stopped.  Everything paused for a single minute and I tried to process, to take everything in and to capture every single detail of what was happening.  Like the world had gone silent and I was in the moment... I knew just how special it was.  Dr. B chimed in, breaking the silence, and my stare at the baby growing inside me with a live beating heart.  She said, "Congratulations, everything looks perfect!  The baby has a very strong heartbeat and the implantation is just like we want to see.  Now that we've seen a heartbeat, the risk of miscarriage is less than 5%.  I cried.  It is real.  This is really happening.

Dr. B said congratulations again and said, now I'll see you in a week or so.  She left the room and Jennifer continued checking everything else to make sure all the bits and pieces looked good.  As she did her thing, I felt the need to tell her how surprised we were by the news.  I said, we already have three children we adopted and never expected a 4th.  Jennifer said, "Well I think you were meant to adopt your two boys and little girl first.  There was a plan it sounds like and you were meant to have this little one too."  Hearing her words were like music to my ears.

I'll be honest, telling people we are having a 4th child is another thing I'm worried about.  I know its silly and Jarrett tells me not to give it half a thought.  Yet, I do.  I know how many people thought we were crazy to grow our family with the third child.  And now we are going to have a fourth.  I already get strange looks at the grocery store, what will they think when I have all four of them.  So maybe it's me being extra sensitive, or maybe its me caring too much what others will think, but hearing one of the first people that know we are pregnant be so supportive, was just what I needed to hear.  And yes, I do understand it is her job to be supportive, but I'm just going to ignore that and pretend she was honestly happy for us too (that's what it felt like at least). 

Within a minute or so the ultrasound was done and she was up cutting pictures apart from the ultrasound machine.  She handed me a stack of 15 or so pictures and told us congratulations again.  She left the room, I handed them to Jarrett, got myself together and we walked out to the waiting room.

As nervous as I was sitting in the waiting room praying to go back and quickly as possible, I left that doctors appointment feeling like it couldn't have gone any better.  Not only did we get a confirmation that a little teeny tiny baby is growing inside me but we also saw it first hand with our own eyes.  We saw a heartbeat and received reassurance that everything is progressing just as it should.

My next appointment is in just over a week, and I have a feeling I'm going to be praying this first trimester is over as quickly as possible.  We are very excited to tell people but want to wait until at least 13 weeks to make sure everything goes as planned.  So for now, we will keep our secret and pretend nothing big is happening.  But we know it is.  Here are some pictures of our teeny tiny baby and our biggest surprise!

 Yep, that's my name on that ultrasound picture... its okay, I had to take a double take too.

It's real.
It's definitely real.

Until next time,

Angie