Today, I woke up with the same pain I felt the day I needed surgery (but didn't know it yet). I wasn't bleeding but I was very worried that something was wrong and I would need surgery again. God forbid if they had to reopen my scars.
How awful would that be?
I called the Kaiser Advice Line again hoping they would shed some light and tell me that there was nothing to worry about. After a series of questions, the nurse admitted not being too familiar with methotrexate. She read me the same information I was given on Friday but that didn't address the pain and if I was having a bad reaction to the medication. She put me on hold so she could confer with the OB-GYN on call.
When the nurse got back on the line, she said that the doctor wasn't worried. I wasn't bleeding, I didn't have a fever and my wounds weren't infected. (Thank goodness for that, ugh.) I was having strong abdominal pain because the methotrexate was doing its job.
I had forgotten that way back when the doctors were talking to me about surgery versus methotrexate, I had learned that one of the downfalls to taking the medication was that it simulated a miscarriage. How could I forget that?
Having a D & C and, most recently, surgery, that was something I hadn't experienced yet - going through a natural miscarriage. While this isn't truly natural, the physical experience, according to my doctor, is very similar if not the same.
I'm trying so hard not to wallow in self-pity. I know there are women who have suffered far more than I and that there are far worse situations in this world. To just about everyone, I've been upbeat and not been nearly as negative about all of this as I have on this blog. I have been very matter-a-fact at work and jumped right back into the j-o-b.
But if I don't release it somewhere, all my anger, frustration and sadness, I think I'll explode. Worse, at a completely inappropriate place like work.
So forgive the wallowing (or not) but I'm so angry and upset that I've had two miscarriages in four months and that the last one comes with the two-for-one bonus of surgery AND the physical pain of going through a miscarriage naturally.
It just doesn't seem to ever end. Go away, already.
Monday, September 03, 2012
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Like a punk ass, I'm angry
Yesterday, I received a call. I saw on my caller ID that it was my doctor. I had done lab work twice since the surgery and knew he was calling me to tell me I was in the clear. I was slammed at work because I was still catching up from the six days I missed and also because it is THE busiest time of the year, work-wise. I thought about sending him to voicemail but then thought, heck, this guy cut me up, I should be respectful and answer his call. So I picked it up.
I should have known better and taken the call in privacy, not in cubicle land at work.
After asking me how I was feeling and I guess a little surprised that I said I was fine (this should have tipped me off) he said he was sorry to tell me that while the first lab tests were fine, my more recent results showed a presence of pregnancy hormones. This meant that there was still viable pregnancy tissue, not to be confused with a viable pregnancy (because that's laughable when it concerns my body - yes, bitter sarcasm right there). This pregnancy tissue in my Fallopian tube will grow and cause damage. I needed to come in to the hospital to take methotrexate. Yes, the drug I had a choice of taking in lieu of the surgery but, oh goodie, I get to take it anyway.
Folks, I am not a workaholic. But I was tired of this FUCKING ABNORMAL PREGNANCY THAT WILL NOT GO AWAY affecting my life. All of this and no baby in the end. Wouldn't you be fucking sick and tired?
I had back-to-back appointments all day, the last one being roughly an hour away from home. I asked the doctor if I could get medicine administered in the evening.
"No, unfortunately the lab can't do it, it has to be administered by a doctor or nurse."
"Can I come in tomorrow or sometime in the weekend?" I asked.
"Our offices aren't open and it's important you get this done right away. I'm calling you two days after your lab work so your levels have most likely increased."
Well, shit. So I said, "Can I come Tuesday? I have really important meetings today that I can't miss."
I know, I sounded like an asshole but the meeting in South San Francisco was a catered reception specifically scheduled, then rescheduled, so I could attend and make a presentation.
My irritated doctor responded, "We're talking about your health here."
Shit, shit, shit.
I agreed and told him I would cancel the meeting and work on getting there early this afternoon. Before you think he's the most awesome person for thinking about my health when I clearly am too mad and lame to do so, let me share how the rest of the day goes.
I only shedded a few tears at my cube. I still had to pull it together for a morning meeting and I was bringing along my intern. On my way to that meeting, I made a call to my afternoon appointment to let them know I had a medical complication that needed immediate attention. I was very apologetic. They really want a rep to be there. I then called and pleaded with my boss to see if she could go. She knew the entire situation so she moved her day around to help. After my first meeting, it was already the afternoon. I dropped of my intern back at work and then emotionally fell apart and tearfully called The Man to see if he could come with me. He was off work but I hadn't called him about any of this until I was on my way to the hospital. I meant it when I said work was crazy busy.
I picked up The Man and then headed to the hospital. I followed my doctor's orders to go to the lab first. Miracle of miracles, there was no one waiting. Seriously, I've never seen it like this. I thought to myself, what a small perk to a cruddy day. We were out of there within minutes. Then I went to my doctor's station (if you have Kaiser, you know what mean.) The receptionist was perplexed by my presence because I wasn't on the schedule. I let her know my doctor had called me earlier in the morning and insisted I needed to come in. Still a blank face. But she called his nurse to get it straightened out. His nurse came out a few minutes later to let me know there is a specific area with a nurse who administered the methotrexate.
We walked to a different station, checked in and waited.
The nurse came out 15 minutes later and apologized. "I'm waiting on the pharmacy to bring up the medication. Because they have to mix it, it could take 15 minutes to a half hour."
We waited. For 45 minutes. I kid you not when I went to the receptionist to ask how much longer and she exclaimed, "You're still here?!"
An hour and forty-five minutes later (What. The. Fuck.), the nurse called my name and then profusely apologized. She said that the medication was finally ready. I knew it wasn't her fault. Her office was supposed to close at 4:00 and it was already 5:15 PM. I told her I didn't blame her to which she replied, "Blame Dr. Young. He was supposed to call this in to the pharmacy. He knows the protocol."
I was surprised by this. "But I told him I was on my way four hours ago."
"He called me to let me know," she responded, "but he's the only who has to call it into the pharmacy because of the type of medication it is and he never did. The pharmacy was confused when I called to find out the status and we had to wait for them to get in touch with Dr. Young before they could make it. It can take up to a couple of hours to make this so that's why you waited such a long time rather than it being done by the time you got here."
Fucking Dr. Young. (I know I'm swearing far more in this post than I ever have before. But I'm telling you, I'm angry.)
I won't lie, I'm no toughie and my tolerance for pain is pretty low. But when she stuck the big needle in my right hip, I cried out loud and jerked. That shit hurt bad. Then it burned. I cried because of the pain. I cried because I was also still dealing with a bullshit pregnancy that wasn't a real pregnancy. I was angry because I was still getting hurt for something that would never be. And I was so so mad about it all.
The second shot didn't hurt as bad but I think I worried the nurse from my first reaction. She asked me of I had ever taken methotrexate. I told her no.
"I'm so sorry to ask you this, especially after you've waited for so long. But I want to make sure you don't have a reaction. Can you stay for 15 more minutes?"
Sure. Why the fuck not. We had already been there for 2 1/2 hours.
I left the room and The Man looked worried because of my tears. He asked if it hurt and I said yes. I sat down and we held hands. A few minutes later,he said, "I understand if you don't want to try anymore. I know you said not this year but you would want to try next year. I understand if you changed your mind."
I just don't know about any of this anymore.
- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone
I should have known better and taken the call in privacy, not in cubicle land at work.
After asking me how I was feeling and I guess a little surprised that I said I was fine (this should have tipped me off) he said he was sorry to tell me that while the first lab tests were fine, my more recent results showed a presence of pregnancy hormones. This meant that there was still viable pregnancy tissue, not to be confused with a viable pregnancy (because that's laughable when it concerns my body - yes, bitter sarcasm right there). This pregnancy tissue in my Fallopian tube will grow and cause damage. I needed to come in to the hospital to take methotrexate. Yes, the drug I had a choice of taking in lieu of the surgery but, oh goodie, I get to take it anyway.
Folks, I am not a workaholic. But I was tired of this FUCKING ABNORMAL PREGNANCY THAT WILL NOT GO AWAY affecting my life. All of this and no baby in the end. Wouldn't you be fucking sick and tired?
I had back-to-back appointments all day, the last one being roughly an hour away from home. I asked the doctor if I could get medicine administered in the evening.
"No, unfortunately the lab can't do it, it has to be administered by a doctor or nurse."
"Can I come in tomorrow or sometime in the weekend?" I asked.
"Our offices aren't open and it's important you get this done right away. I'm calling you two days after your lab work so your levels have most likely increased."
Well, shit. So I said, "Can I come Tuesday? I have really important meetings today that I can't miss."
I know, I sounded like an asshole but the meeting in South San Francisco was a catered reception specifically scheduled, then rescheduled, so I could attend and make a presentation.
My irritated doctor responded, "We're talking about your health here."
Shit, shit, shit.
I agreed and told him I would cancel the meeting and work on getting there early this afternoon. Before you think he's the most awesome person for thinking about my health when I clearly am too mad and lame to do so, let me share how the rest of the day goes.
I only shedded a few tears at my cube. I still had to pull it together for a morning meeting and I was bringing along my intern. On my way to that meeting, I made a call to my afternoon appointment to let them know I had a medical complication that needed immediate attention. I was very apologetic. They really want a rep to be there. I then called and pleaded with my boss to see if she could go. She knew the entire situation so she moved her day around to help. After my first meeting, it was already the afternoon. I dropped of my intern back at work and then emotionally fell apart and tearfully called The Man to see if he could come with me. He was off work but I hadn't called him about any of this until I was on my way to the hospital. I meant it when I said work was crazy busy.
I picked up The Man and then headed to the hospital. I followed my doctor's orders to go to the lab first. Miracle of miracles, there was no one waiting. Seriously, I've never seen it like this. I thought to myself, what a small perk to a cruddy day. We were out of there within minutes. Then I went to my doctor's station (if you have Kaiser, you know what mean.) The receptionist was perplexed by my presence because I wasn't on the schedule. I let her know my doctor had called me earlier in the morning and insisted I needed to come in. Still a blank face. But she called his nurse to get it straightened out. His nurse came out a few minutes later to let me know there is a specific area with a nurse who administered the methotrexate.
We walked to a different station, checked in and waited.
The nurse came out 15 minutes later and apologized. "I'm waiting on the pharmacy to bring up the medication. Because they have to mix it, it could take 15 minutes to a half hour."
We waited. For 45 minutes. I kid you not when I went to the receptionist to ask how much longer and she exclaimed, "You're still here?!"
An hour and forty-five minutes later (What. The. Fuck.), the nurse called my name and then profusely apologized. She said that the medication was finally ready. I knew it wasn't her fault. Her office was supposed to close at 4:00 and it was already 5:15 PM. I told her I didn't blame her to which she replied, "Blame Dr. Young. He was supposed to call this in to the pharmacy. He knows the protocol."
I was surprised by this. "But I told him I was on my way four hours ago."
"He called me to let me know," she responded, "but he's the only who has to call it into the pharmacy because of the type of medication it is and he never did. The pharmacy was confused when I called to find out the status and we had to wait for them to get in touch with Dr. Young before they could make it. It can take up to a couple of hours to make this so that's why you waited such a long time rather than it being done by the time you got here."
Fucking Dr. Young. (I know I'm swearing far more in this post than I ever have before. But I'm telling you, I'm angry.)
I won't lie, I'm no toughie and my tolerance for pain is pretty low. But when she stuck the big needle in my right hip, I cried out loud and jerked. That shit hurt bad. Then it burned. I cried because of the pain. I cried because I was also still dealing with a bullshit pregnancy that wasn't a real pregnancy. I was angry because I was still getting hurt for something that would never be. And I was so so mad about it all.
The second shot didn't hurt as bad but I think I worried the nurse from my first reaction. She asked me of I had ever taken methotrexate. I told her no.
"I'm so sorry to ask you this, especially after you've waited for so long. But I want to make sure you don't have a reaction. Can you stay for 15 more minutes?"
Sure. Why the fuck not. We had already been there for 2 1/2 hours.
I left the room and The Man looked worried because of my tears. He asked if it hurt and I said yes. I sat down and we held hands. A few minutes later,he said, "I understand if you don't want to try anymore. I know you said not this year but you would want to try next year. I understand if you changed your mind."
I just don't know about any of this anymore.
- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone
Sunday, August 26, 2012
I've decided
I'm not going to beat around the bush if people at work (or volunteers) ask me why I was gone last week.
I realize that this will probably make people feel uncomfortable. And probably a little guilty for asking. But that's not why I'm doing it. I'm going to tell them, "I had a miscarriage which resulted in surgery" because I have nothing to be ashamed of. If I had a heart attack, stroke or accident, it wouldn't be any different.
I think it's fair to let people know so that a) they know why I'm taking it a little easy, physically and b) that I wasn't on some fantastic vacation during the busiest time of my job. OK, part of me is so that once I answer their question with a very honest and frank answer, the subject is abruptly closed. If this wasn't my busiest time of year, I would probably take two weeks off. But I can't. And, according to the handy directions (four pages long, mind you) given by my doctor, it is advised that I try to go back to normal as soon as possible. So, tomorrrow, I go back to work.
Yes, it's personal and again, will probably make people uncomfortable. While I won't share this piece of information, this was my second miscarriage in four months. I'll be honest, I'm traumatized. I try to be very matter-of-fact about it and, most times, I convince myself that it's clinical, above all else.
But there are moments, these moments that I have, in which the overwhelming sadness takes hold of me and I tear up. I know I'm blessed, absolutely blessed, to have the beautiful daughter that I have and the life that I lead. And I swear, I tell myself that every day. But sometimes that damn sadness takes over even though I try my hardest to silence those thoughts, they come anyway.
So why not be honest about what happened?
I realize that this will probably make people feel uncomfortable. And probably a little guilty for asking. But that's not why I'm doing it. I'm going to tell them, "I had a miscarriage which resulted in surgery" because I have nothing to be ashamed of. If I had a heart attack, stroke or accident, it wouldn't be any different.
I think it's fair to let people know so that a) they know why I'm taking it a little easy, physically and b) that I wasn't on some fantastic vacation during the busiest time of my job. OK, part of me is so that once I answer their question with a very honest and frank answer, the subject is abruptly closed. If this wasn't my busiest time of year, I would probably take two weeks off. But I can't. And, according to the handy directions (four pages long, mind you) given by my doctor, it is advised that I try to go back to normal as soon as possible. So, tomorrrow, I go back to work.
Yes, it's personal and again, will probably make people uncomfortable. While I won't share this piece of information, this was my second miscarriage in four months. I'll be honest, I'm traumatized. I try to be very matter-of-fact about it and, most times, I convince myself that it's clinical, above all else.
But there are moments, these moments that I have, in which the overwhelming sadness takes hold of me and I tear up. I know I'm blessed, absolutely blessed, to have the beautiful daughter that I have and the life that I lead. And I swear, I tell myself that every day. But sometimes that damn sadness takes over even though I try my hardest to silence those thoughts, they come anyway.
So why not be honest about what happened?
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Post Haze - Day 1
While there is definitely still pain, the Vicodin is affecting me more negatively than positively.
I find the haziness beneficial because it kind of makes me void of emotion. Unfortunately, it also brings me to the brink of sleep and then yanks me back. Every time. I wake up every two hours, rendering me pretty useless awake or asleep. Another side affect is that I'm seriously constipated. No go, amigo. Even with a generous amount of prune juice.
Since Vicodin takes away most pain, I've had to replace it with an arsenal of alternatives:
I have Ibuprofen, GasX, throat spray (sore from the breathing tube) and good old prune juice.
According to my post surgery directions, I also have to walk to get my bowels active and the shoulder pain (from air pumped into my stomach) to dissipate. So I'm walking extremely slow for 20 minutes, three times a day. All while taking shots of prune juice.
- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone
I find the haziness beneficial because it kind of makes me void of emotion. Unfortunately, it also brings me to the brink of sleep and then yanks me back. Every time. I wake up every two hours, rendering me pretty useless awake or asleep. Another side affect is that I'm seriously constipated. No go, amigo. Even with a generous amount of prune juice.
Since Vicodin takes away most pain, I've had to replace it with an arsenal of alternatives:
According to my post surgery directions, I also have to walk to get my bowels active and the shoulder pain (from air pumped into my stomach) to dissipate. So I'm walking extremely slow for 20 minutes, three times a day. All while taking shots of prune juice.
- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
In a Vicodin haze
After a much needed and appreciated beautiful day with my little family, I woke up Monday morning ready for the week. 5:00 AM, to be exact. I woke up with The Man and just decided to start my day rather than try to get an extra 45 minutes in.
Around 6:30 AM, I started to get really bad cramps. By the time The Bun woke up, I was in tears. I've been constipated before (due to pregnancy) but this was a whole new level. It was so bad that I called my parents to see if they could come over to take care of The Bun while I worked it out. Thank goodness, my mom said they would be right over.
She's the one who suspected something much more serious. I had been moded before about this - going to the doctor thinking it was something else and finding out it was just constipation. Luckily, though, my mom can be very persuasive. She convinced me to let my Dad take me to the hospital while she took care of The Bun. Even if it was just constipation, I could at least get medication for it.
Long story short, I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. I was told I should have surgery the same day because of the pain and bleeding. My Fallopian tube could rupture and then I would be in serious trouble. I asked and received a second opinion. Same response. I called The Man but his work phone was off. Crying harder at the thought that he wouldn't come in time, I requested an operator to notify his supervisor to have him contact me. He came home immediately. He said the minute his boss told him I was looking for him, he knew I was having a miscarriage.
I had the surgery in the afternoon. The paperwork they had me sign prior to the surgery was scary. Risk of having to remove my tube if the mass was too big. Risk of re-opening my c-section scar if there were complications. Thankfully, no complications.
I am, however, emotionally and physically drained. The doctor also told me that I have a higher chance of another ectopic pregnancy because I now have a history. I think it's a 20% chance. Shit. For certain, we are done trying to have another baby this year. The Man said that we don't have to try again because he doesn't want me to go through this a third time. My mom thinks that I should stop trying because it's a lot to put on my body. I don't know. Maybe we are done, period. The Man says adoption is a consideration but I can't wrap my head around that quite yet.
The one good thing about the pain (and yes, it is far more painful than my D&C) is that, between the discomfort and the Vicodin, I don't want to cry. I'm pretty removed from the emotional pain. Maybe that will return when the physical pain goes away but I'm going to be thankful for its absence in the meantime.
Around 6:30 AM, I started to get really bad cramps. By the time The Bun woke up, I was in tears. I've been constipated before (due to pregnancy) but this was a whole new level. It was so bad that I called my parents to see if they could come over to take care of The Bun while I worked it out. Thank goodness, my mom said they would be right over.
She's the one who suspected something much more serious. I had been moded before about this - going to the doctor thinking it was something else and finding out it was just constipation. Luckily, though, my mom can be very persuasive. She convinced me to let my Dad take me to the hospital while she took care of The Bun. Even if it was just constipation, I could at least get medication for it.
Long story short, I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. I was told I should have surgery the same day because of the pain and bleeding. My Fallopian tube could rupture and then I would be in serious trouble. I asked and received a second opinion. Same response. I called The Man but his work phone was off. Crying harder at the thought that he wouldn't come in time, I requested an operator to notify his supervisor to have him contact me. He came home immediately. He said the minute his boss told him I was looking for him, he knew I was having a miscarriage.
I had the surgery in the afternoon. The paperwork they had me sign prior to the surgery was scary. Risk of having to remove my tube if the mass was too big. Risk of re-opening my c-section scar if there were complications. Thankfully, no complications.
I am, however, emotionally and physically drained. The doctor also told me that I have a higher chance of another ectopic pregnancy because I now have a history. I think it's a 20% chance. Shit. For certain, we are done trying to have another baby this year. The Man said that we don't have to try again because he doesn't want me to go through this a third time. My mom thinks that I should stop trying because it's a lot to put on my body. I don't know. Maybe we are done, period. The Man says adoption is a consideration but I can't wrap my head around that quite yet.
The one good thing about the pain (and yes, it is far more painful than my D&C) is that, between the discomfort and the Vicodin, I don't want to cry. I'm pretty removed from the emotional pain. Maybe that will return when the physical pain goes away but I'm going to be thankful for its absence in the meantime.
Friday, August 17, 2012
I'd love to say it ends well ...
but I'm pretty sure it doesn't.
I'd like to believe I'm not superstitious. I believe in God and faith doesn't exactly go hand and hand with being superstitious. When I took this test, I thought about the first time and how everything ended up OK. That was when I told The Man in a very unromantic, unceremonious way that I was pregnant. The second time I took this test, I decided I was going to be creative, loving and sweet in my approach. I wrapped up the test in a little box along with scantily yet tastefully photos of his wife. He first saw the photos, then opened the box. I joked after he saw the test that he better remember when his wife's body saw better times because it was going to go through the ringer again. Although I'm glad I was able to tell him in such a fun way, the pregnancy ended much too quickly.
So here I was, a month late when I decided to take a test. Yes, a month. I knew I was being irrational but I wanted to delay knowing as long as possible. I had already been taking prenatal pills and when I suspected I was late, I laid off the alcohol. But I delayed taking the test because I almost didn't want to know. The doctors don't see a person (unless there are complications) until she is at least two months along. I didn't want to be anxious in the interim because nothing can be done until then.
But after a month, I figured I should just do it. So I did:
I was so nervous because the last time I had been down this road, it ended badly. Remembering how the first time versus the second time went, I practically tossed this on the bed next to The Man and nonchalantly said, "So, I guess this settles it" or something to that effect. Just like the first time, he didn't even know I had taken it. He replied, "Really? So you're pregnant?" And I nodded. He leans over, gives me a hug and kiss and says, "I love you" and " ... good luck", with a concerned look. I mean, it's really all one can say.
A week later, I started to bleed. It started as spotting and then it got heavier, like a period. So this past Wednesday, I saw the doctor. Excluding the blood, it was like deja vu.
"Well, you could be really early but I don't see anything yet." No flutter. Not like the first time. Much like the second. But, again, the doctor said I could just be really early. I wasn't going to fall for that false hope again. I was then asked to go to the lab the next day, then possibly the weekend and then see my doctor the following week.
The part that broke my heart, though, the question I was surprised would bring tears to my eyes, was when the doctor asked, "How many pregnancies have you had, including this one?"
"Three."
Three pregnancies. One child. I'm not the greatest at math but it doesn't add up. How could I be pregnant three times and only have one child?
How many more times do I want to put myself through this before I'm done? And, just like last time, they can't tell me that there is no baby until they do more tests. I tried so hard to harden myself before attempting this again. But no amount of mental preparation is enough to overpower the overwhelming defeat I feel that I can't seem to get past being a one-hit wonder.
I feel so blessed to even have one child. But I didn't know it would be impossible to have more. Why?
So here I am, waiting again to hear back on my lab results and while I'm expecting bad news, they still won't give me a definite answer until I see my doctor next week. So I wait and I wait.
I'd like to believe I'm not superstitious. I believe in God and faith doesn't exactly go hand and hand with being superstitious. When I took this test, I thought about the first time and how everything ended up OK. That was when I told The Man in a very unromantic, unceremonious way that I was pregnant. The second time I took this test, I decided I was going to be creative, loving and sweet in my approach. I wrapped up the test in a little box along with scantily yet tastefully photos of his wife. He first saw the photos, then opened the box. I joked after he saw the test that he better remember when his wife's body saw better times because it was going to go through the ringer again. Although I'm glad I was able to tell him in such a fun way, the pregnancy ended much too quickly.
So here I was, a month late when I decided to take a test. Yes, a month. I knew I was being irrational but I wanted to delay knowing as long as possible. I had already been taking prenatal pills and when I suspected I was late, I laid off the alcohol. But I delayed taking the test because I almost didn't want to know. The doctors don't see a person (unless there are complications) until she is at least two months along. I didn't want to be anxious in the interim because nothing can be done until then.
But after a month, I figured I should just do it. So I did:
A week later, I started to bleed. It started as spotting and then it got heavier, like a period. So this past Wednesday, I saw the doctor. Excluding the blood, it was like deja vu.
"Well, you could be really early but I don't see anything yet." No flutter. Not like the first time. Much like the second. But, again, the doctor said I could just be really early. I wasn't going to fall for that false hope again. I was then asked to go to the lab the next day, then possibly the weekend and then see my doctor the following week.
The part that broke my heart, though, the question I was surprised would bring tears to my eyes, was when the doctor asked, "How many pregnancies have you had, including this one?"
"Three."
Three pregnancies. One child. I'm not the greatest at math but it doesn't add up. How could I be pregnant three times and only have one child?
How many more times do I want to put myself through this before I'm done? And, just like last time, they can't tell me that there is no baby until they do more tests. I tried so hard to harden myself before attempting this again. But no amount of mental preparation is enough to overpower the overwhelming defeat I feel that I can't seem to get past being a one-hit wonder.
I feel so blessed to even have one child. But I didn't know it would be impossible to have more. Why?
So here I am, waiting again to hear back on my lab results and while I'm expecting bad news, they still won't give me a definite answer until I see my doctor next week. So I wait and I wait.
Monday, August 13, 2012
More power than she'll ever know
Sometimes I have awful, miserable days. Sometimes, she is the saving grace of my day. She makes me put on a brave face because I can't let her see my misery. She makes me be better because I'm selfless instead of selfish. And, if I'm really lucky, I forget the black cloud following me around.
It's a lot of power for a wee little one. I can't really say that I give it to her because that's too much responsibility. But I think, beyond her and me, it just is what it is. For that, I feel so blessed that this wonderfully sweet, funny, charming and beautiful girl is my daughter.
I love her so so much.
It's a lot of power for a wee little one. I can't really say that I give it to her because that's too much responsibility. But I think, beyond her and me, it just is what it is. For that, I feel so blessed that this wonderfully sweet, funny, charming and beautiful girl is my daughter.
 |
| The Bun's first coconut. Yum! Well, fan of the juice, not so much of the flesh. |
 |
| First time bravely climbing the fence to see the water (yikes!) and the first time seeing this little creek. She was so happy. Lucky for me, her happiness is infectious. |
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Quality time with out-of-town family
It just seemed like a good day to head out to Half Moon Bay. While it was warm in our city, I warned my mom-in-law, Nanay, and brother-in-law, CJ, that it was going to be cold. I'm not sure if they believed me. They live in the Central Valley which was in the midst of 100+ degrees so my suggestion probably sounded nuts. But they donned some jeans and sweatshirts.
I did not lead them astray. We got to HMB and it was chilly!
Who would've thought this photo was taken in July?
Is my girl giving stink eye? Noooo, she's just squinting:)
It is really difficult to find a photo in which everyone is looking into the camera. The bigger the group, the more challenging the task!
Nanay LOVED this weather. She said it was like a different world.
We went on a Sunday and stumbled upon a Farmers' Market. There was produce, of course, but inside the harbor center, there were artists. I fell in love with this piece:
How beachy is this? I'm familiar with sand dollars but I don't think I've seen puffy shells like the ones framing the mirror. So pretty!
But The Man wasn't a huge fan. One, he didn't like that the artist never said hi to me. I had gone back several times to admire it and then to bring The Man over.
I'm the type of person who will walk out of store in a hot second, even if I really wanted to buy something and had items in my hand or cart, if I felt like I was being ignored or slighted in comparison to other customers. But I wasn't deterred by this artist. She was ignoring EVERYONE. I wasn't being treated unfairly. The artist evidently didn't like people, in general. The Man wasn't buying it though, figuratively and literally.
Second, he thought $60 was too much. I understand his point. Sure, this mama has a glue gun, can buy paint and go out to the beach and collect shells. But would I? It takes some effort and, quite frankly, I have never seen those shells before! How would I ever find that many of them? While a bit steep, I would be willing to pay that amount. But marriage is about compromise and The Man didn't like the attitude or price.
If you know where I can find those shells, let me know!
I did not lead them astray. We got to HMB and it was chilly!
Who would've thought this photo was taken in July?
Is my girl giving stink eye? Noooo, she's just squinting:)
It is really difficult to find a photo in which everyone is looking into the camera. The bigger the group, the more challenging the task!
Nanay LOVED this weather. She said it was like a different world.
We went on a Sunday and stumbled upon a Farmers' Market. There was produce, of course, but inside the harbor center, there were artists. I fell in love with this piece:
How beachy is this? I'm familiar with sand dollars but I don't think I've seen puffy shells like the ones framing the mirror. So pretty!
But The Man wasn't a huge fan. One, he didn't like that the artist never said hi to me. I had gone back several times to admire it and then to bring The Man over.
I'm the type of person who will walk out of store in a hot second, even if I really wanted to buy something and had items in my hand or cart, if I felt like I was being ignored or slighted in comparison to other customers. But I wasn't deterred by this artist. She was ignoring EVERYONE. I wasn't being treated unfairly. The artist evidently didn't like people, in general. The Man wasn't buying it though, figuratively and literally.
Second, he thought $60 was too much. I understand his point. Sure, this mama has a glue gun, can buy paint and go out to the beach and collect shells. But would I? It takes some effort and, quite frankly, I have never seen those shells before! How would I ever find that many of them? While a bit steep, I would be willing to pay that amount. But marriage is about compromise and The Man didn't like the attitude or price.
If you know where I can find those shells, let me know!
Saturday, July 28, 2012
A little of my old routine ... with a twist
Prebaby, The Man and I would have leisurely weekends. Only we didn't know they were leisurely or somewhat luxurious until we didn't have them anymore.
I've said it before ... Your time is no longer yours once you have a child. Neither is your money if I'm being completely honest. Which I am.
But it's a trade off. I know 20 years down the road, I'll miss this family time and being the center of my daughter's world. So I enjoy the moment and don't wish for something I don't have. I mean, I can miss it but also be OK with it not being available anymore instead of being resentful.
But something new and fun is that The Bun is able to accompany me on more outings and is easily amused by things like people watching. Something I love to do too:) We go on more dates and I get to see things through her eyes.
I love cafes and eating breakfast. The Bun has acquired these same likes!
Prebaby, I could get a mani/pedi whenever I wanted. As a mama, not only have funds become a little more scarce but free time is also a thing of the past. Weekends are family time and not so much for pampering. Again, simply a worthwhile trade off.
Recently, The Bun has proven to be on her best behavior when I have appointments. Things around us are interesting enough for her to stay amused. Like chiropractor appointments. And pedicures! Oh, how I've missed both of those.
I don't get manicures anymore because I need to literally be hands on with my daughter so a manicure would get mussed in no time. But I can get a pedicure. Yay!
I am so impressed and grateful for The Bun's easy going attitude and good manners. She just sat patiently while I got adjusted at the chiropractor. And then, after brunch, while this Mama got her toes pampered.
I know that we can't be best friends. We have to have clear boundaries and rules so she can grow up to be a respectful and responsible individual. But I'm so happy we can enjoy each others company and similar things. It's so much fun to HAVE so much fun with her. If that makes any sense;)
I'll leave you with this last photo. For the past two years, I was a day-of-event volunteer for Relay for Life. This year, I decided to be a participant and raise money. I also decided to bring The Bun. She had a blast! And it was great to honor my mom, her Nana, since she is a breast cancer survivor.
Here is a photo from Relay:
I feel blessed to have all these little yet wondrous Mama/Daughter moments.
I love my little family so much.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I've said it before ... Your time is no longer yours once you have a child. Neither is your money if I'm being completely honest. Which I am.
But it's a trade off. I know 20 years down the road, I'll miss this family time and being the center of my daughter's world. So I enjoy the moment and don't wish for something I don't have. I mean, I can miss it but also be OK with it not being available anymore instead of being resentful.
But something new and fun is that The Bun is able to accompany me on more outings and is easily amused by things like people watching. Something I love to do too:) We go on more dates and I get to see things through her eyes.
I love cafes and eating breakfast. The Bun has acquired these same likes!
Prebaby, I could get a mani/pedi whenever I wanted. As a mama, not only have funds become a little more scarce but free time is also a thing of the past. Weekends are family time and not so much for pampering. Again, simply a worthwhile trade off.
Recently, The Bun has proven to be on her best behavior when I have appointments. Things around us are interesting enough for her to stay amused. Like chiropractor appointments. And pedicures! Oh, how I've missed both of those.
I don't get manicures anymore because I need to literally be hands on with my daughter so a manicure would get mussed in no time. But I can get a pedicure. Yay!
I am so impressed and grateful for The Bun's easy going attitude and good manners. She just sat patiently while I got adjusted at the chiropractor. And then, after brunch, while this Mama got her toes pampered.
I know that we can't be best friends. We have to have clear boundaries and rules so she can grow up to be a respectful and responsible individual. But I'm so happy we can enjoy each others company and similar things. It's so much fun to HAVE so much fun with her. If that makes any sense;)
I'll leave you with this last photo. For the past two years, I was a day-of-event volunteer for Relay for Life. This year, I decided to be a participant and raise money. I also decided to bring The Bun. She had a blast! And it was great to honor my mom, her Nana, since she is a breast cancer survivor.
Here is a photo from Relay:
I feel blessed to have all these little yet wondrous Mama/Daughter moments.
I love my little family so much.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Mini Staycation Part III
Wine tasting was actually part I. Trip to the city was part II. Yesterday, we decided to explore the northern part of the East Bay.
I found this cool free event at Dimond Park in Oakland: Circus Bella.
Oh my gosh, so much fun! I was really impressed by the quality of this event. I always go with an open mind, especially to free events because, well, they're free. It's not fair to expect the moon and the stars when you're not paying, right? I thought, at the very least, we could get some sunshine and warmth (as opposed to our fun yet freezing trip to the city).
The Man and I bought non-healthy treats at the market in the morning (shame shame, Mama & Daddy!), packed three blankets and The Bun's tricycle. We picked up Sister & the boys (my nephew and my Sister's nephew) and met up with our cousin and his son. We trekked over to Dimond Park in Oakland which had to be one of the cutest little parks I've seen in a while.
It was a little tricky finding the actual location of Circus Bella because you can't see where they are from the parking lot. Luckily I found a person in the rec center who said it was near the tennis courts.
Side note: As cute and wholesome as this park was, the bathrooms left a lot to be desired. It was my first time (seriously - ever!) to use a restroom with no doors. Look, I get park and rec bathrooms. I can understand steel bowls with no lids, I can even understand no toilet seat protectors. Maybe even no toilet paper (although you have to have one or the other. It's not pleasant but you can use toilet seat protectors as paper and vice versa). But no stall doors? Yes, that's right. You knew if the stall was occupied because you could have a full view of the person using it. Thank goodness I only had to do the liquid business! Heaven help you if you were trying to do something else!
Anyway ...
Circus Bella was so good! It was a one ring circus with top notch performers. While the view is easily obstructed if you have folks taller than you sitting in front of you (which we did) but hey, it's free! I loved it. It felt like we were at some small town event. Everyone seem to have a little picnic going on and kids were excited for the circus to start.
Love, love, love.
Afterwards, we decided to go to locally famous Fentons Creamery in Piedmont. Well, what do you know? Fentons was celebrating its 118th birthday with face painting, animals to pet and just a fun little part. How lucky were we?
We filled ourselves up on ice cream and walked around Piedmont Avenue. While cute, not too much to capture three boys' attention. Cousin and his son wanted to go bowling so we decided to join them. The boys played three games and we partook in the unhealthy treats of a bowling alley. Collectively, we had nachos, cheesy fries, mozzarella sticks, a corn dog, and a burger. Oh boy! What a gluttonous day. I've got to do some sort of cleanse after this!
By the end of the day, we had exhausted but happy kids. And parents!
I treasure these moments. It's so easy to get caught up in chores, work, going to this or that. It's so nice to spend a wholesome, albeit junk food laden, day with family.
I found this cool free event at Dimond Park in Oakland: Circus Bella.
Oh my gosh, so much fun! I was really impressed by the quality of this event. I always go with an open mind, especially to free events because, well, they're free. It's not fair to expect the moon and the stars when you're not paying, right? I thought, at the very least, we could get some sunshine and warmth (as opposed to our fun yet freezing trip to the city).
The Man and I bought non-healthy treats at the market in the morning (shame shame, Mama & Daddy!), packed three blankets and The Bun's tricycle. We picked up Sister & the boys (my nephew and my Sister's nephew) and met up with our cousin and his son. We trekked over to Dimond Park in Oakland which had to be one of the cutest little parks I've seen in a while.
It was a little tricky finding the actual location of Circus Bella because you can't see where they are from the parking lot. Luckily I found a person in the rec center who said it was near the tennis courts.
Side note: As cute and wholesome as this park was, the bathrooms left a lot to be desired. It was my first time (seriously - ever!) to use a restroom with no doors. Look, I get park and rec bathrooms. I can understand steel bowls with no lids, I can even understand no toilet seat protectors. Maybe even no toilet paper (although you have to have one or the other. It's not pleasant but you can use toilet seat protectors as paper and vice versa). But no stall doors? Yes, that's right. You knew if the stall was occupied because you could have a full view of the person using it. Thank goodness I only had to do the liquid business! Heaven help you if you were trying to do something else!
Anyway ...
Circus Bella was so good! It was a one ring circus with top notch performers. While the view is easily obstructed if you have folks taller than you sitting in front of you (which we did) but hey, it's free! I loved it. It felt like we were at some small town event. Everyone seem to have a little picnic going on and kids were excited for the circus to start.
Love, love, love.
Afterwards, we decided to go to locally famous Fentons Creamery in Piedmont. Well, what do you know? Fentons was celebrating its 118th birthday with face painting, animals to pet and just a fun little part. How lucky were we?
We filled ourselves up on ice cream and walked around Piedmont Avenue. While cute, not too much to capture three boys' attention. Cousin and his son wanted to go bowling so we decided to join them. The boys played three games and we partook in the unhealthy treats of a bowling alley. Collectively, we had nachos, cheesy fries, mozzarella sticks, a corn dog, and a burger. Oh boy! What a gluttonous day. I've got to do some sort of cleanse after this!
I treasure these moments. It's so easy to get caught up in chores, work, going to this or that. It's so nice to spend a wholesome, albeit junk food laden, day with family.
Mini Staycation
Written 7/13/12: Sometimes trendy, made up words annoy me. Like Bennifer or Branjelina. OK, those are names. Like ... conversated (that's not a real word, people!) But I've also thought there were some pretty cute words, like staycation, which best describes the meaning and is very appropriate.
I know I'm lucky to live in the Bay Area. I love it and understand that's why my small home cost a pretty penny and should it be plucked and moved to just about anywhere else, it would be half the price. If that.
But I digress.
This week, Sister and my nephew visited us. Last time Sister visited, I only took two days off and deeply regretted it. I'm not a workaholic but I just hadn't wrapped my brain on the fact that I don't have to travel somewhere to take paid time off. I promised myself and my Sister that the next time she visited, I would take more time off. This time I took FOUR days! I know, not a whole bunch but twice as much as last time ;)
I had so much fun.
I think it helps that The Bun is older. She's more mobile, lasts longer through the day without needing a nap and is just all around a pretty nifty companion. I won't lie, it's very helpful that there are other kids to capture her attention so she isn't bored. I guess it doesn't surprise other parents but I find it so interesting that she doesn't have to playing with kids to enjoy their company. The Bun is very much a people watcher. Had it just been The Man and me, it's a little harder to keep her amused all day and I don't know if she could last an entire day and early evening of being on the go. But w/ two older cousins and an Auntie, she was a trooper!
San Francisco Day: Sister planned a casual day of going to the city. This would consist of -
- BART ride to Powell Street
- Cable Car ride to Fisherman's Wharf
then we made it up as we we went ...
- Walk to Ghirardelli Square
- Walk from GS to Pier 39
- Enjoy Pier 39 for a while and then had back to Fisherman's wharf ... take the cable car back to Powell and then take BART back to the East Bay.
This was an ALL day excursion! Props to our 13 year old, 11 year old and 2 year old! They only got a little grumpy towards the end. I'm honestly impressed because the whole day was effin' cold. Seriously. Just the day before, it was 80+ degrees in the East Bay. We know San Francisco is typically cooler so we thought high 60s. Um, no, I think we were in the high 50s low 60s. It was CHILLY.
But what a fun day!
I know I'm lucky to live in the Bay Area. I love it and understand that's why my small home cost a pretty penny and should it be plucked and moved to just about anywhere else, it would be half the price. If that.
But I digress.
This week, Sister and my nephew visited us. Last time Sister visited, I only took two days off and deeply regretted it. I'm not a workaholic but I just hadn't wrapped my brain on the fact that I don't have to travel somewhere to take paid time off. I promised myself and my Sister that the next time she visited, I would take more time off. This time I took FOUR days! I know, not a whole bunch but twice as much as last time ;)
I had so much fun.
I think it helps that The Bun is older. She's more mobile, lasts longer through the day without needing a nap and is just all around a pretty nifty companion. I won't lie, it's very helpful that there are other kids to capture her attention so she isn't bored. I guess it doesn't surprise other parents but I find it so interesting that she doesn't have to playing with kids to enjoy their company. The Bun is very much a people watcher. Had it just been The Man and me, it's a little harder to keep her amused all day and I don't know if she could last an entire day and early evening of being on the go. But w/ two older cousins and an Auntie, she was a trooper!
San Francisco Day: Sister planned a casual day of going to the city. This would consist of -
- BART ride to Powell Street
then we made it up as we we went ...
- Walk to Ghirardelli Square
- Walk from GS to Pier 39
- Enjoy Pier 39 for a while and then had back to Fisherman's wharf ... take the cable car back to Powell and then take BART back to the East Bay.
This was an ALL day excursion! Props to our 13 year old, 11 year old and 2 year old! They only got a little grumpy towards the end. I'm honestly impressed because the whole day was effin' cold. Seriously. Just the day before, it was 80+ degrees in the East Bay. We know San Francisco is typically cooler so we thought high 60s. Um, no, I think we were in the high 50s low 60s. It was CHILLY.
But what a fun day!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Birth Certificate & Wine = Good Day!
The Bun is nearly three years old. But today, TODAY, is when I decided to get her official birth certificate! I have what is called an official copy but it's not "official." Recently, I had a bug up my bum about getting a passport in case of an emergency. I mean, if ever there was an emergency, who knows how long a passport will take?! (I also have to get The Man's ... Argh!)
See, bug up my bum.
I'm happy to report that it wasn't nearly as stresful or tedious as I had imagined it would be. I went to the info desk and the lady told me to fill out the form and come back for a number. I filled out the form, got a number and was called in less than five minutes. Then I went to the desk my # was assigned and had the nicest clerk. She gave me two official birth certificates in about five minutes. The total time it took? Fifteen minutes!
Side note: Now I know, fill out as many forms as you possibly can before going to a public agency. I actually knew this but forgot. Silly Mama.
After going to downtown Oakland, though, we went to my favorite wine company. I affectionately call them an Urban Winery but they don't have vineyards so technically they aren't one. They have a lovely view of San Francisco from their tasting room albeit slightly obstructed. Unfortunately we couldn't get a good shot it. But we did get one showing off their pretty room. My Ma & Sister had a grand old time. We were free because of my membership - yippee! And my underage nephew had a comfortable place to sit in what I think is their kids area. Man, I love this place. I also love how the folks who work there can only be described as "urban." Not all but many of them have piercing, tattoos and funky haircuts. My fellow wine tasters are not high-falutin' but normal dressing folks. My husband is not a fan of the polo-shirt-with-the-sweater-tied-around-the-shoulders-crowd. No offense if you like to wear that :)
What a nice way to spend a day with my Ma & Sister ... and nephew, too. He gets credit for the photo.
See, bug up my bum.
I'm happy to report that it wasn't nearly as stresful or tedious as I had imagined it would be. I went to the info desk and the lady told me to fill out the form and come back for a number. I filled out the form, got a number and was called in less than five minutes. Then I went to the desk my # was assigned and had the nicest clerk. She gave me two official birth certificates in about five minutes. The total time it took? Fifteen minutes!
Side note: Now I know, fill out as many forms as you possibly can before going to a public agency. I actually knew this but forgot. Silly Mama.
After going to downtown Oakland, though, we went to my favorite wine company. I affectionately call them an Urban Winery but they don't have vineyards so technically they aren't one. They have a lovely view of San Francisco from their tasting room albeit slightly obstructed. Unfortunately we couldn't get a good shot it. But we did get one showing off their pretty room. My Ma & Sister had a grand old time. We were free because of my membership - yippee! And my underage nephew had a comfortable place to sit in what I think is their kids area. Man, I love this place. I also love how the folks who work there can only be described as "urban." Not all but many of them have piercing, tattoos and funky haircuts. My fellow wine tasters are not high-falutin' but normal dressing folks. My husband is not a fan of the polo-shirt-with-the-sweater-tied-around-the-shoulders-crowd. No offense if you like to wear that :)
What a nice way to spend a day with my Ma & Sister ... and nephew, too. He gets credit for the photo.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Humbling moment
There are many times in parenting when I became painfully aware of my flaws.The other day, The Bun kept asking me questions while I was trying to get ready for work. Becoming impatient, I shushed her.
She got very quiet. I glanced over to where she was sitting on my bed from the bathroom where I was getting ready and saw she slumped over, looking defeated. Oh boy.
I stopped what I was doing, walked over and sat down next to her to ask her if she was OK. She looked at me with tears and said, "Don't shush no more."
OH BOY.
The Bun was right. I know it wasn't just the shushing but the way I shushed her. With an impatient and irritated tone. I regretted my actions immediately.
One thing I'm very good at is admitting when I'm wrong. I gave her a big hug, lots of kisses and said I was sorry.
She forgave me immediately.
Being a parent is indescribable. It's challenging, rewarding, exhausting, loving, the list goes on and on. It can also make you feel like a superhero, a martyr, a beauty queen, a villain, a magician, a maid, a short order cook and an ass. And a whole bunch of other things.
Every day, I try to be better and to lead by example. And every single day The Bun teaches me how.
She got very quiet. I glanced over to where she was sitting on my bed from the bathroom where I was getting ready and saw she slumped over, looking defeated. Oh boy.
I stopped what I was doing, walked over and sat down next to her to ask her if she was OK. She looked at me with tears and said, "Don't shush no more."
OH BOY.
The Bun was right. I know it wasn't just the shushing but the way I shushed her. With an impatient and irritated tone. I regretted my actions immediately.
One thing I'm very good at is admitting when I'm wrong. I gave her a big hug, lots of kisses and said I was sorry.
She forgave me immediately.
Being a parent is indescribable. It's challenging, rewarding, exhausting, loving, the list goes on and on. It can also make you feel like a superhero, a martyr, a beauty queen, a villain, a magician, a maid, a short order cook and an ass. And a whole bunch of other things.
Every day, I try to be better and to lead by example. And every single day The Bun teaches me how.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Another milestone
We are embarking on a new frontier with The Bun. She is now in a toddler bed.
It all started in Hawaii. When she and I were on vacation, we had to share a room. At home, we slept in separate rooms.
After our second night on vacation, I realized there were only two choices for bedtime:
1) We could replicate what we did at home as best as possible. She wouldn't be in a crib, however, she would be on an inflatable mattress. (Sleeping in one bed wasn't an option because I swear she breakdances in her sleep.) I played her bedtime music but because she knew I was in the room with her, she fidgeted and cried until I held her hand. She took more than an hour to go to sleep, though, because she knew I was in the room. If I left the room, she would just follow me. I ended up being bored out of my mind, lying in the dark. I inevitably dozed off and then woke up with a crick in my neck. Not fun times at 7:30 PM.
2) Say to hell with the bedtime routine and just accept that she would stay up until she fell asleep.
You know which way I went.
It was just a lot easier because there were a lot less tears. Despite The Bun being really tired towards the end of her night, she wasn't irritable or irritating. She was actually pleasant even when tuckered out. On the third night, she stayed up until 10:30 PM, closing down the joint with just me left. All the other grownups were knocked out by 10:) By the sixth and final night, she went to bed by 8:30 PM. Not bad.
Well, all hell broke loose when we got home and tried to go back to our regular schedule. By that I mean that the crib was no longer acceptable. The Bun got a taste of freedom that couldn't be squelched! The Man and I agreed along time ago that once she started trying to climb out of her crib, it was time to move her into a toddler bed.
Until this point, The Bun's bedtime routine was perfection. We were the envy of most parents! We put her to bed at 7:30 PM and she would quietly sooth herself to sleep. Often times I would have to wake her up in the morning because she was still out cold. If, by chance, she was awake, she usually laid quietly waiting for me to get her.
Gone are those days.
When we first moved her into a toddler bed, she would throw open her door just a few minutes after tucking her in. She would do this multiple times, always bee-lining for our bedroom. She did this over a couple of days and we knew we had to move her bedtime. It was so bright outside, even at 7:30 PM, that she could see the sunlight through her blackout curtains and both her blinds (yes, she has two sets of blinds in addition to blackout curtains because she's like a rooster!) When she would throw open the door, she could see the sunlight streaming in through the shaded windows in the hall and knew it was still bright out. So we moved her bedtime to 8:00 PM.
In addition, I looked on Amazon and almost bought a $40 clock specifically for toddlers. Like a regular alarm clock, the parent sets the clock at a certain time. But instead of an alarm or radio, the clock doesn't make a sound, rather, it glows green which signals your toddler he/she is allowed to get up and leave the room. It got good reviews but just felt like too much for a clock with its primary purpose of keeping a kid in his/her room until it was time for the parents to get up.
i also turned to social networks to see how other moms dealt with the move from crib to toddler bed. Some fared well. Other didn't. A few said they were still training their kids who were older than The Bun to not wake up in the middle of the night and crawl into bed with them. Oh now, would that be my life? I love cuddling with her but I think she does martial arts when she's asleep. Neither The Man or I can get a good night's sleep when The Bun is with us in bed:(
Then a mom from my sorority answered my question with a doable solution. She said she bought a plain digital clock, blocked out the minutes with paper and told her child to stay in his room until the clock said 6. Once that number came around, he could go to mommy and daddy's room. In our household, the magical number is 7:
It took her a few days to accept this new development. She was not pleased. What's with this clock telling her what to do? The Bun still flung open her door, paddled down the hall and waited by the baby gate (which we added once she moved to a toddler bed.) Sometimes she would ask for juice, other times she would ask for a diaper change. All in the name of stalling. I was beginning to feel like her concierge!
Slowly but surely, she warmed up to it. We were and continue to be in the midst of also potty training so this is just one big summer project! While the bright sky, even at 8:30 PM, sometimes poses a challenge for us because she wants to stay up, The Bun is staying in her bedroom in the mornings until 7ish. Because the minutes are covered, her arrival at the baby gate and announcement of "Mama!" varies in the morning. Sometimes it's right at 7 AM, other times it's closer to 8 AM.
My baby is no longer a baby. The Bun is a full fledged toddler who is taking on the world, one milestone at at ime. I've written it before and I'll write it again. It's so easy for me to get caught up in the things that I don't have or miss the things I'm no longer doing. But I'm making it a priority to be in the moment because life passes by so fast and I could miss really fantastic moments. I've wished for The Bun to be a little more independent and now I want to hold onto her baby ways because she's growing up at what feels like to be lightening speed.
It all started in Hawaii. When she and I were on vacation, we had to share a room. At home, we slept in separate rooms.
After our second night on vacation, I realized there were only two choices for bedtime:
1) We could replicate what we did at home as best as possible. She wouldn't be in a crib, however, she would be on an inflatable mattress. (Sleeping in one bed wasn't an option because I swear she breakdances in her sleep.) I played her bedtime music but because she knew I was in the room with her, she fidgeted and cried until I held her hand. She took more than an hour to go to sleep, though, because she knew I was in the room. If I left the room, she would just follow me. I ended up being bored out of my mind, lying in the dark. I inevitably dozed off and then woke up with a crick in my neck. Not fun times at 7:30 PM.
2) Say to hell with the bedtime routine and just accept that she would stay up until she fell asleep.
You know which way I went.
It was just a lot easier because there were a lot less tears. Despite The Bun being really tired towards the end of her night, she wasn't irritable or irritating. She was actually pleasant even when tuckered out. On the third night, she stayed up until 10:30 PM, closing down the joint with just me left. All the other grownups were knocked out by 10:) By the sixth and final night, she went to bed by 8:30 PM. Not bad.
Well, all hell broke loose when we got home and tried to go back to our regular schedule. By that I mean that the crib was no longer acceptable. The Bun got a taste of freedom that couldn't be squelched! The Man and I agreed along time ago that once she started trying to climb out of her crib, it was time to move her into a toddler bed.
Until this point, The Bun's bedtime routine was perfection. We were the envy of most parents! We put her to bed at 7:30 PM and she would quietly sooth herself to sleep. Often times I would have to wake her up in the morning because she was still out cold. If, by chance, she was awake, she usually laid quietly waiting for me to get her.
Gone are those days.
When we first moved her into a toddler bed, she would throw open her door just a few minutes after tucking her in. She would do this multiple times, always bee-lining for our bedroom. She did this over a couple of days and we knew we had to move her bedtime. It was so bright outside, even at 7:30 PM, that she could see the sunlight through her blackout curtains and both her blinds (yes, she has two sets of blinds in addition to blackout curtains because she's like a rooster!) When she would throw open the door, she could see the sunlight streaming in through the shaded windows in the hall and knew it was still bright out. So we moved her bedtime to 8:00 PM.
In addition, I looked on Amazon and almost bought a $40 clock specifically for toddlers. Like a regular alarm clock, the parent sets the clock at a certain time. But instead of an alarm or radio, the clock doesn't make a sound, rather, it glows green which signals your toddler he/she is allowed to get up and leave the room. It got good reviews but just felt like too much for a clock with its primary purpose of keeping a kid in his/her room until it was time for the parents to get up.
i also turned to social networks to see how other moms dealt with the move from crib to toddler bed. Some fared well. Other didn't. A few said they were still training their kids who were older than The Bun to not wake up in the middle of the night and crawl into bed with them. Oh now, would that be my life? I love cuddling with her but I think she does martial arts when she's asleep. Neither The Man or I can get a good night's sleep when The Bun is with us in bed:(
Then a mom from my sorority answered my question with a doable solution. She said she bought a plain digital clock, blocked out the minutes with paper and told her child to stay in his room until the clock said 6. Once that number came around, he could go to mommy and daddy's room. In our household, the magical number is 7:
Slowly but surely, she warmed up to it. We were and continue to be in the midst of also potty training so this is just one big summer project! While the bright sky, even at 8:30 PM, sometimes poses a challenge for us because she wants to stay up, The Bun is staying in her bedroom in the mornings until 7ish. Because the minutes are covered, her arrival at the baby gate and announcement of "Mama!" varies in the morning. Sometimes it's right at 7 AM, other times it's closer to 8 AM.
 |
| She is so darn cute when she's on the potty! I tried to post a photo that wouldn't get me into trouble with her when she's older. |
Friday, June 08, 2012
Feels like I'm going down the same road
but I have to keep telling myself that it's different. It's not the same person even though there are similarities.
It makes me want to run for the hills! But I just got to hitch up my big girl panties and deal with it. Because there's no use in worrying about the ifs, you just got to go along for the ride.
As an admitted worrier, though, this is not an easy task.
It makes me want to run for the hills! But I just got to hitch up my big girl panties and deal with it. Because there's no use in worrying about the ifs, you just got to go along for the ride.
As an admitted worrier, though, this is not an easy task.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
1st World Problem vs 3rd World Problem
This is what my Sister prefaces each time she talks about a problem that really isn't a problem when thinking in the grand scheme of things. I mean, you've got people worrying about food and shelter so is it really that bad that your (humph, my) chiropractor cancels last minute? Or that someone cut me off on the freeway? Irritating but not life threatening incidents like that.
So let me preface this entry with the fact that I know I could have it a lot worse. That I am a very blessed individual and I do thank God each day for the blessings I have in my life. As I grow older, I've found that I'm actually a more thankful individual because it's so easy to take things and people for granted.
OK, with all that said, we all know that you can still be disappointed with a 1st world problem! And no, this is not about the miscarriage. It's about a completely different area in my life. I wish I could go into detail but it's one of things that I try to be careful with since this is a public blog. But let's just say that in the past five months, I will now have been disappointed THREE times in a certain area in my life. While I am very thankful for all that I do have, c'mon, you have to admit that three times is a big let down. These incidents also make me question my character: the drive I have and have I changed in the past 10 years? I used to be known as a go-getter, as a FIRE CRACKER (someone had actually used this term when describing me after an interview.) And now, well now I wonder if I've grown timid. Or complacent. Or worse, inept. I shudder at that one.
Then I remember that God has always made my life better after what I've perceived as disappointments. That something truly better did come along each time. So I hold onto that hope. It just seems that it, the higher plan, is unveiling itself a lot slower than it did in my 20s.
In any case, it helps to write this down, as cryptic as it may seem.
So let me preface this entry with the fact that I know I could have it a lot worse. That I am a very blessed individual and I do thank God each day for the blessings I have in my life. As I grow older, I've found that I'm actually a more thankful individual because it's so easy to take things and people for granted.
OK, with all that said, we all know that you can still be disappointed with a 1st world problem! And no, this is not about the miscarriage. It's about a completely different area in my life. I wish I could go into detail but it's one of things that I try to be careful with since this is a public blog. But let's just say that in the past five months, I will now have been disappointed THREE times in a certain area in my life. While I am very thankful for all that I do have, c'mon, you have to admit that three times is a big let down. These incidents also make me question my character: the drive I have and have I changed in the past 10 years? I used to be known as a go-getter, as a FIRE CRACKER (someone had actually used this term when describing me after an interview.) And now, well now I wonder if I've grown timid. Or complacent. Or worse, inept. I shudder at that one.
Then I remember that God has always made my life better after what I've perceived as disappointments. That something truly better did come along each time. So I hold onto that hope. It just seems that it, the higher plan, is unveiling itself a lot slower than it did in my 20s.
In any case, it helps to write this down, as cryptic as it may seem.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Good for the Soul
After all that worrying, the doctor gave me permission to travel. I was soooo happy! This Girlfriends' Trip has been two years in the making. After the ups and downs of the past few weeks, it was a relief to know that it would include me & The Bun, after all. The thought of sticking around and using my PTO to go to the hospital and lab for checkups made me sick.
This trip to Hawaii was good for my soul. Well, I think every trip has been good for my soul. But this one more so than any other. I spent practically every moment w/ The Bun. I kind of wondered how that would go and, thankfully, it ended up to be wonderful. The Bun normally sleeps in her own bed in her own room so this could have gone terribly awry. But she was a champ! And we adjusted to being in one bedroom pretty well.My three girlfriends also proved to be extremely helpful. They let me have some moments to myself, when needed. Collectively, we were able to give all the attention The Bun (as well as my friend's one year old) could ever wish for :)
Some photos from the trip:
 |
| One of my dearest friends bought leis for all the gals, grown and little. |
 |
| My friend had the idea to cover The Bun in all the leis. Made for a pretty photo. |
 |
| Visiting the glass chapel where The Man and I married four years ago. To this day, I loved just about every part of our wedding. |
 |
| As gorgeous as I remember. |
 |
| Beach time with The Bun. |
 |
| Taken on a walk around TBR grounds to help The Bun take a nap. It's no wonder people call Hawaii, "paradise". |
 |
| Look at this toddler kiss. So sweet! |
 |
| Us waiting for our last Hawaiian sunset. |
 |
| Us at TBR's Monday Brunch. |
 |
| Our last night at Turtle Bay Resort. Isn't it lovely? |
Then there are other times when I think of it as, "I lost our baby". In fact, this is exactly what I said to The Man the night before I left when he saw me a little weepy and asked why. Because while, medically speaking, my pregnancy would never turn into a baby, our hearts were sure that we were going to have a baby born in December. We had already planned to change the home office into a nursery. I already got in my head that The Bun and our newest baby would be three years apart. How perfect! But I try not to think about stuff like that. What's the point?
As much as I love Hawaii and as much as it's one of my favorite places to be (and I have traveled in my earlier years!), this time I was also happy to go back. I missed The Man, our pups and our sweet little household. It's easy to forget that I live in one of the most desirable places in the world.While the Bay Area is sometimes chaotic, frenetic, and frustrating, it's also one of the best places to be. We have the city, the ocean, the bay, the cute suburban towns, the hills and mountains, and all the amenities one could ever need all within an hour away. Best of all, this place has many of my family and friends.
So yes, while I also have to work for a living (why can't someone pay me to be a fantastic individual, positively contributing to society?) which is kind of a bummer, I'm happy to back to what is considered my norm.
But I definitely could get used to an biennial Girlfriends' Trip to Hawaii. I really could.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Hoping & praying that it is all done
I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning. My wonderful mama planned on coming over at 6:30 AM so we wouldn't have to wake up The Bun while I went to the hospital. Since we had a babysitter, The Man wanted to be with me rather than drop me off & then pick me up. I was so thankful. I wouldn't have blamed him for doing that because the wait would be a couple of hours but I felt blessed to have him by my side for most of the time.
Yesterday, the Chief of Obstetrics and Gynecology said to go to the hospital at 7 AM. The folks needed to start my process in the OR don’t get there until 8 AM! Not sure what the logic in that was other than perhaps a lot of folks wait to get admitted so he wanted me to be first? In any case, the pre-op nurses were so sweet and apologized even though it wasn’t their fault.
Well, I was then put on the books for 10 AM. 10 AM rolled around and we found out there were two emergencies which pushed me to 1 PM. 1 PM! Understand that I had not eaten or drank since the night before. Not even water! You can’t eat or drink 8 hours before your surgery which is fine if it had been in the morning.By 11 AM, I was so hungry and thirsty and I wasn’t even allowed gum. Or to swab my mouth with a water soaked sponge on a stick! I had a huge headache by then (probably had to do with the fact I also hadn't had coffee) and I was certain I would have a raging migraine by the time I was done.
Let me just sing Kaiser’s praises again. My anesthesiologist was an earth angel. Come to find out, he was the same one for my cesarean section from almost three years ago. He promised I wouldn’t feel a thing. He said I wouldn’t be knocked out but that I wouldn’t remember. Let me tell you, I started crying in the Operating Room because The Man couldn't be there with me and it was such an intimidating room. It looked like I was having major surgery (even though it's considered minor) with all the equipment and masked faces. But then, BAM. I was being wheeled back in pre/post OP.
I hadn't felt or remembered a thing. Ignorance is truly bliss. I thought I was still waiting to go into surgery and they had to reassure me that, no, it was all done. If that’s not being knocked out, I don’t know what is. But I was so glad. Then I was given a Vicodin drip, monitored for an hour and then sent home w/ more Vicodin. I was a little loopy but I proclaimed my love for Kaiser, my doctor, my anesthesiologist and my nurses. They made a bad situation bearable.
Well, excluding the six hour wait. That was crappy.
I continue to worry, however, that when I get my lab work done on Monday, they will find out that I do have ectopic pregnancy after all, did a D&C for nothing and still not get to go to Hawaii. The doctor, prior to the surgery, warned that this could happen. But she had said, visiting me after the surgery, that everything looked promising. They still have to run tests on the tissue she took out but she said it looks like there was an embryo (or whatever terminology she used.) Plus I haven't shown symptoms of an ectopic pregnancy this entire time. Typically, one would have major cramping, bleeding and/or nausea.
So there is still more to be done. I have to go to the lab on Monday to get more blood drawn. This is how they know that the D&C worked because my HCG level should be going down.
I hate that this is still drawn out but I hope and pray that the D&C worked. If ever I needed a vacation, it’s now.
Friday, May 11, 2012
What to expect when you're no longer expecting
There are just some things people don't talk too much about. Or, in this case, write about. But I think it's good for people to know they're not alone. So here I go. Writing about one of the dreaded words ...
Miscarriage.
I know quite a few women who have miscarried. Often times, at least what I've noticed among my circle, is that it happens the second time around. So I knew there was a chance. But boy does it knock you off your feet. There's really no way to prepare.
Just like w/ The Bun, I started documenting this pregnancy, my second one, ready to hit "publish" the minute I was at 12 weeks AKA the safe zone. I wrote how I had planned on telling The Man, how this time I was going to be very happy how I did the big reveal. How I wanted to make it special. And I did! He was surprised. He was scared. He was happy. We both were. It was a beautiful moment. That was going to be my second entry.
But then that weekend, I had stomach cramps. So even though I was only six weeks along, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. Prior to seeing her, she ordered blood work. Upon examination and reviewing my results, she determined that I was probably just constipated. Silly me, I thought! How embarrassing. But then my doctor said she couldn't find anything in my ultrasound. I could be really early on but she thought it would be best if I continued to have lab work done for my HCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) levels because the initial results were low. Over the span of a week, I went to the lab four times. If you read any of my entries during my pregnancy or when I went into labor, you know that I do not enjoy going to the lab.
The Man accompanied me again at my next appointment. My doctor said that while my HCG levels were rising, it wasn't at the normal rate. Not at all what we expected to hear.
My doctor asked that I get more blood tests the next day. I got a call later that same day from my doctor. She said that my HCG level plateaued. Regardless of whatever pregancy I am having, it's not normal and will not result in a full-term pregnancy. She suspected I have an ectopic AKA tubal pregnancy. My doctor wanted me to go to the lab again tomorrow and then one more time on Sunday. If her suspicions were true, I would need to take Methotrexate: used to stop the growth of an early ectopic pregnancy. This would result in me taking it over the span of three days and then being monitored for two weeks, thus having to stay home rather than go to Hawaii. This started my pity party - because my doctor insisted I have an ectopic pregnancy, she said she couldn't recommend I travel. After all, I would have to be monitored.
No baby and no Hawaii? How shitty is that. After the shellshock, I was upset. I didn't want anymore tests. I just wanted to DO something already. Whatever I needed to do. Why wait until Monday? And I HATE the lab. I addition to hating just being there, it felt like my hope died each time I got my blood taken because I knew that the results would be no good. I was tired of it and knew that I would have to go several times after the procedure (when I was supposed to be in Hawaii) so why bother with these last two appointments?
I called my hospital and ended up speaking with a different doctor because mine was gone for the day. He reviewed my chart and said that I should come in tomorrow to see the OB-GYN available rather than just doing labs. I ended up meeting with the Chief of Obstetrics and Gynecology today. Before talking about terminating the pregnancy, he wanted to make sure it was indeed an abnormal pregnancy. After I went to the lab again, he sent me to radiology/ultrasound rather than just having a regular ultrasound at the OB/GYN department. After being at the hospital a total of four hours, I finally saw the Chief again. He had my lab and ultrasound results back. My abnormal pregancy was an absolute. There was no embryo in the gestational sac. I will inevitably have a miscarriage.
There were three options:
1) Letting me naturally miscarry. This meant I would not know when it would happen during my pregnancy and I could bleed a lot. So much so that I would need a transfusion. A bit too risky for them to recommend.
2) D & C. For those not in the know, it's also known as dilation and curettage, is a surgical procedure often performed after a first trimester miscarriage. Dilation means to open up the cervix; curettage means to remove the contents of the uterus. Curettage may be performed by scraping the uterine wall with a curette instrument or by a suction curettage (also called vacuum aspiration), using a vacuum-type instrument.
3) Taking Methotrexate. It's like pitocin for miscarriages. It prompts the process and I would go through all the physical symptoms of a miscarriage.
We decided it would be best for me to have a D&C. Mine is scheduled for tomorrow. Ah, here another part of the pity party. Tomorrow morning, I had scheduled a massage and facial as a Mama's Day gift to myself. They are far and few between now and I had thought it would be great to have one. I had to cancel it so I could have my D&C.
On one hand, it's a relief to have a resolution. As terrible as it is, at least there's an action plan. For nearly two weeks, I've been anxious, having my blood taken again and again, hearing that the news isn't good but there was no final word. Now there is one.
What I am scared about is that once I have the D&C and they take my blood a couple of days later, they will realize that I do have an ectopic pregnancy and I'll have to take the medicine that will make me have an actual miscarriage and I won't be able to travel after all. You may think it sounds shallow but after knowing that my pregnancy won't result in a baby, I really want an escape to one of my favorite destinations. I would rather NOT be at home, going to the lab every few days to make sure that my baby is gone.
Miscarriage.
I know quite a few women who have miscarried. Often times, at least what I've noticed among my circle, is that it happens the second time around. So I knew there was a chance. But boy does it knock you off your feet. There's really no way to prepare.
Just like w/ The Bun, I started documenting this pregnancy, my second one, ready to hit "publish" the minute I was at 12 weeks AKA the safe zone. I wrote how I had planned on telling The Man, how this time I was going to be very happy how I did the big reveal. How I wanted to make it special. And I did! He was surprised. He was scared. He was happy. We both were. It was a beautiful moment. That was going to be my second entry.
But then that weekend, I had stomach cramps. So even though I was only six weeks along, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. Prior to seeing her, she ordered blood work. Upon examination and reviewing my results, she determined that I was probably just constipated. Silly me, I thought! How embarrassing. But then my doctor said she couldn't find anything in my ultrasound. I could be really early on but she thought it would be best if I continued to have lab work done for my HCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) levels because the initial results were low. Over the span of a week, I went to the lab four times. If you read any of my entries during my pregnancy or when I went into labor, you know that I do not enjoy going to the lab.
The Man accompanied me again at my next appointment. My doctor said that while my HCG levels were rising, it wasn't at the normal rate. Not at all what we expected to hear.
My doctor asked that I get more blood tests the next day. I got a call later that same day from my doctor. She said that my HCG level plateaued. Regardless of whatever pregancy I am having, it's not normal and will not result in a full-term pregnancy. She suspected I have an ectopic AKA tubal pregnancy. My doctor wanted me to go to the lab again tomorrow and then one more time on Sunday. If her suspicions were true, I would need to take Methotrexate: used to stop the growth of an early ectopic pregnancy. This would result in me taking it over the span of three days and then being monitored for two weeks, thus having to stay home rather than go to Hawaii. This started my pity party - because my doctor insisted I have an ectopic pregnancy, she said she couldn't recommend I travel. After all, I would have to be monitored.
No baby and no Hawaii? How shitty is that. After the shellshock, I was upset. I didn't want anymore tests. I just wanted to DO something already. Whatever I needed to do. Why wait until Monday? And I HATE the lab. I addition to hating just being there, it felt like my hope died each time I got my blood taken because I knew that the results would be no good. I was tired of it and knew that I would have to go several times after the procedure (when I was supposed to be in Hawaii) so why bother with these last two appointments?
I called my hospital and ended up speaking with a different doctor because mine was gone for the day. He reviewed my chart and said that I should come in tomorrow to see the OB-GYN available rather than just doing labs. I ended up meeting with the Chief of Obstetrics and Gynecology today. Before talking about terminating the pregnancy, he wanted to make sure it was indeed an abnormal pregnancy. After I went to the lab again, he sent me to radiology/ultrasound rather than just having a regular ultrasound at the OB/GYN department. After being at the hospital a total of four hours, I finally saw the Chief again. He had my lab and ultrasound results back. My abnormal pregancy was an absolute. There was no embryo in the gestational sac. I will inevitably have a miscarriage.
There were three options:
1) Letting me naturally miscarry. This meant I would not know when it would happen during my pregnancy and I could bleed a lot. So much so that I would need a transfusion. A bit too risky for them to recommend.
2) D & C. For those not in the know, it's also known as dilation and curettage, is a surgical procedure often performed after a first trimester miscarriage. Dilation means to open up the cervix; curettage means to remove the contents of the uterus. Curettage may be performed by scraping the uterine wall with a curette instrument or by a suction curettage (also called vacuum aspiration), using a vacuum-type instrument.
3) Taking Methotrexate. It's like pitocin for miscarriages. It prompts the process and I would go through all the physical symptoms of a miscarriage.
We decided it would be best for me to have a D&C. Mine is scheduled for tomorrow. Ah, here another part of the pity party. Tomorrow morning, I had scheduled a massage and facial as a Mama's Day gift to myself. They are far and few between now and I had thought it would be great to have one. I had to cancel it so I could have my D&C.
On one hand, it's a relief to have a resolution. As terrible as it is, at least there's an action plan. For nearly two weeks, I've been anxious, having my blood taken again and again, hearing that the news isn't good but there was no final word. Now there is one.
What I am scared about is that once I have the D&C and they take my blood a couple of days later, they will realize that I do have an ectopic pregnancy and I'll have to take the medicine that will make me have an actual miscarriage and I won't be able to travel after all. You may think it sounds shallow but after knowing that my pregnancy won't result in a baby, I really want an escape to one of my favorite destinations. I would rather NOT be at home, going to the lab every few days to make sure that my baby is gone.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
What could have been but never was
(Written 4/27/12. Originally titled, "10 Days!" )
I'm pretty sure I know. According to my handy period tracker, I am ten days late. Yes, TEN.
Three days ago, I bought a pregnancy test. I plan on taking it on Saturday for confirmation. Just because I’m pretty sure doesn’t mean it’s absolute! But if my hunch is right, I’m going to present it to him in a pretty package. Washing it clean, of course.
A while back, I splurged and took boudoir photos. If I hadn’t been so reserved and insecure in my early 20s, I would have it taken it then. My body was rockin’! Hahaha, ok, not really. I was by no means a hard body but, as I’m able to reflect, it was nothing to be ashamed about. But I was bashful and that’s how it goes.
After having The Bun, I decided that I wanted to feel pretty. I wanted to take photos to give to The Man so that, when we got older and I got lumpier or saggy-er (heaven forbid, both!), he could look back at photos of his hot wife. Because, by golly, I was going to make sure the photos made me look good!
Don’t get me wrong, the reserved and insecure girl never went away. But I think she matured a bit. With that mindset, and the two glasses of wine the photographer provided, I took them. Oh yes, the package also came with hair and makeup … this was a must for me!
I just got the photos back earlier this week. Same day I bought the pregnancy test. So, if everything goes the way I think it will go (that there is, indeed, a bun in the oven), I’m going to package these photos in a box. I’ll have him look at them one by one and then, behind the last photo, will be the pregnancy test and some written remark of how he better cherish the body in those photos because it’s about to change. Again!
It’s so tempting to take the test now. But I’m going to wait until right before I plan on packaging everything up because I want to know right before he does. If I find out now, I’ll end up telling him! I guess it’s my way of keeping my own mouth shutJ Can’t divulge information that I’m not 100% sure about. Yet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)