Flashback Friday... Baby food taste testers.

Three years ago when we first started feeding Isabelle baby food, the boys were very curious about what her food tasted like.  They were so curious in fact that wanted to try her oatmeal.  

Thinking her oatmeal would taste like their brown sugar oatmeal, I warned them but they insisted on a try.

Because we hadn't finalized our adoption with her at the time, I was never able to post this video.  Yet over the years, we've watched it many times and still find it to be funny.

Here's a flash back Friday of the boys (and Dad included) trying Isabelle's formula mixed oatmeal....

Their reactions are priceless.

I wonder if this time around when the baby comes if they will be as excited to try his or her food?  I'm thinking no.

Until next time,

Angie

Week 10...I got out of bed... barely.

Week 10: Thursday, March 12, 2015

In one of the many resources I seem to be turning to,  I read something this week that made me stop in my tracks.  Literally.  It said something to the following:  Congratulations, you made it to 10 weeks.  Of all the weeks of your pregnancy, this week will be your worst for morning sickness.   Seriously.  It said that.  As I sat there on day 1 of week 10, on the tiny footstool outside my bathroom, I wanted to cry.  Actually I did.  Almost.  Seriously, thank you very much “What to expect when you are expecting…”  but seriously, couldn’t ya just have lied to me a tiny bit?  I mean come on, who in the middle of misery wants to hear that it’s going to get worse.  I mean seriously!  I finally got the courage up enough last week to wave the white flag saying I couldn’t handle the nausea/vomiting anymore, and here I am reading the next 7 days of my life are going to get worse.  Thank you.  Thank you WTEWE for showing me, yes it could get worse.

And to make matters better, it’s spring break week.  Of course not for me, no this happens to be one of the most busiest weeks of the year for me.  Working 6 out of 7 days.  Thankfully my wonderful dad and amazing grandpa volunteered to drive 1700 miles in a full van to come out and watch the kids for me.  That is the most definite highlight for me this week.  And while it is and has been wonderful having them here, I’m struggling to do my best to hid the fact that I want to throw up at the first step into the house.  Seriously, my boys have gotten away with only showering every other day (i.e. they stink) and there are so many new smells in the house, I basically have to talk myself off the urge of racing to the toilet at every breath.  And then there was this morning as I attempted to get ready for work.  In knew in the shower, I was going to happen.  I opened the shower door, threw a towel on me and raced to the toilet.  After getting sick 7 times and hoping I hadn’t woken up the rest of the house with my retching, Jarrett mumbled, “I’m sorry” while still half asleep.  I knew he knew what I was doing.  Feeling like I had been hit by a truck, I laid right on the tile floor with my towel half strewn about me, until I felt the contractions of my stomach subside.  I attempted then to get up and continue on getting ready.  I tell myself, baby steps… just put your make up on, it’s okay if you slick your hair back and don’t do it.  Just try to eat a small bowl of cereal.  Now drive to work, yes it’s okay to have the window down for fresh air while the heat is on high as you shiver with the chills.  Tell yourself, it’s almost over.  Only a few more weeks til the 2^nd trimester.  Pray again to God, I feel better in a few weeks. 

I hope Grandpa and Dad haven’t noticed the signs.  A)my house is a disaster.  B) the huge box of prenatal vitamins sitting at my best stand. C)the fact that I come home from work and lay on the couch every day.  D) I couldn’t help but take a nap yesterday after work.- I AM DRAGGING! I pretend that I’m the great pretender and no one knows.  I worry someday when I actually spill the beans, they will say, “We knew all along, we were just waiting for you to tell us.”

The other big thing going on this week is that I’m fighting/attempting to become informed/connected to all the insurance hoops I need to jump through.  I get it, I’m old and pregnant.  Can you just tell me what tests you’ll cover and what you won’t so I can tell my doctor what to order?  Do I need to call the doctor and then call you Mr. Insurance man 3, 4 even 5 times a day just to try and get this diagnostic code, and justification reason for each and every test?  Can’t you just give me a list of what you will cover for a 35 year old, infertile that miraculously became pregnant?  Don’t you just have some code for that?   Honestly, dealing with them is enough to give me nausea.  Thankfully, I think the insurance I have is half way decent (verdicts still out since so far they’ve “denied” every pregnancy claim, that’s been submitted so far.  On phone call 4 today, I figured out they were denying my claims because they thought I had another insurance.  Ah, no insurance I only have you, so will you please pay the flipping bill?   I didn’t say that exactly, although I wanted to. 

The other thing I did was sign up for this blue pregnancy something or another.  I was talking to a friend about what she did when she was pregnant (using a cover story of course) and she started telling me about the need to sign up for some pregnancy program with her insurance that saved her almost a $100.  Of course I went right back to my computer and started researching what sort of program our insurance had, if any.  So I signed up for some blue pregnancy plan where a nurse calls me to check in, and they recommend I eat healthy, exercise, don’t drink or smoke.  I listened patiently, while I wanted to tell them… listen here lady… I eat whatever I can stand to choke down that doesn’t immediately come back up.  I’ve tried your healthy food… carrots, strawberries, yogurt, broccoli, none of that wants to stay down.  At this point, chicken strips and fries is staying down, so please give me a break on my diet, I’ll try to eat better in phase 2 of this journey.  Until then, I’ll follow your guidelines about no alcohol or smoking.  After that, give me a break.

Let’s see, in other news, I’ll give you the weeks highlights….

How far along are you? 10 weeks, 5 days

How I’m feeling?  There’s definitely a pattern here.

Total weight gain…  Not sure… the way I’ve been eating, I should be gaining a ton… let’s see, so far this week Red Lobster, In & Out, Buffalo Wild Wings… not good.

How big is baby? The size of a prune (by the way I need to make them a staple in my diet)

Maternity clothes…  Nope.  But have noticed I like the pants that don’t seem to tight on my stomach.  Moving on to my “fat day” pants on a regular basis. 

Sleep…  Pretty good, thanks in part to those happy pregnancy night pills

Best moment this week… Having my Dad and Grandpa come spend time with them.  I’m so thankful for their help and the low key highlights of watching them enjoying an old John Wayne western movie.  Or watching my dad and grandpa play pretend tea time with Isabelle.  So many happy moments of having them here.

Movement… (sung to Megan Treanor’s All about the base)  It’s all about the gas, bout the gas, no tremble!  (seriously, I’ve lost my mind to actually be writing this)

Food cravings… Everything tastes yucky, while when I’m actually eating is about the only time I’m distracted from the nausea in my innerds.

Food aversions… EVERYTHING.

Belly button in or out… In

What I miss… Feeling like my old self. 

What I’m looking forward to… telling people.  It’s hard to feel so crappy, to have to come up with excuses about why I don’t want to do anything other than lay on my couch and to get advice from people about what they did.  To know if I’m at all normal, or just a complete wimp who has nothing better to do than to whine. 

Until next time,

Angie

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