The Back Story

Not long after writing the whiny blog/post about waiting, I found myself right in the thick of another month of you guessed it- waiting.  My “thrifty” side had won out over my need for some semblance of control that month and I did not buy an OPK.  I had done them two or three previous months and had gotten that freakin’ smiley face that should incite happiness but only ever heightens my anxiety.  I decided to just count the days and try to make sense of basal body temperature and pray for the best.  Then the week that I thought I should be using a predictor came and I decided to use some leftover sticks, sans reader, and see if I was, in fact, ovulating.  I peed on those darn things for 8 days and never got a line that was “as dark or darker” than the control line.  I ran out of sticks before I got positive results.  I stuck to my guns (well, sort of) and did not buy another kit.  I harassed Skip a few more nights and then convinced myself that something had to be wrong with me. 

The previous month and this month I had had some mid-month spotting.  Once the OPK sticks failed me, I consulted the good doctors on Google and self diagnosed: I had a cyst on or in my ovary.  That had to be what was causing the mid-cycle spotting and preventing me from ovulating and by default, getting pregnant.  I would have to schedule surgery (over Spring Break?), probably give my body a month or so to heal and the earliest opportunity I would have to get pregnant again would be fall of the year, a whole year after losing Levi. 

I called my doctor feeling all sorry for myself and tried to explain why I had only been trying to get pregnant (this time) for 5 month but felt the need to see a doctor.  The appointment girl called it an infertility appointment and I almost had a breakdown. I assured her that wasn’t what it was.  She forwarded my call to the nurse line (only because the psych ward requires a direct dial).  I left a detailed messaged and WAITED for a call back.  Long story short less long, they made my appointment for March 20, over two weeks away from the initial phone call.

Then a funny thing happened.  I didn’t start my period around the time I normally would.  I counted the days on the calendar over and over and knew I should be starting soon.  A few more days went by but I just couldn’t bring myself to test.  Finally, around day 33 on the way home from school, I asked Megan to tell me what to do.  She said, “if it were me, I’d take a test.”  So, ignoring all the warnings I’ve ever heard or read about on pregnancy tests, I chugged a bottle of water, drove to Dollar General (my preferred pregnancy test retailer) and bought a two pack (for $6.77 in case you’re wondering. Aldi does not sell tests or I would get mine there ;) ).  I waited less than an hour and took the test.  BNF.  I was not pregnant.  I hadn’t felt pregnant, didn’t think I was, so it was not a shock and no more a disappointment than anything else had been that month.

So, five days passed and I went to Joyce Meyer with the girls and was distracted from thinking about not being pregnant and what could be wrong with me.  Skipping a period AND not ovulating AND spotting mid-month was beginning to confound (the Google doctors and) me, so the distraction was nice.   When I got home and told Skip I was still waiting to start, he suggested I test again.  The following morning was a Tuesday and as luck would have it, we had a three-hour delay.  This gave me time to decide to test again, and what-da-ya-know, it was positive.  I was pregnant.  My heart nearly beat out of my chest.  I’ve never been so petrified and ecstatic in the same moment.  I decided to keep the “what’s wrong with me” appointment as a “confirmation appointment” and went to the doctor two days later.  I got to see Dr. Bower, my favorite, and she rejoiced with me that we were starting this long journey once again. 

So, this is it...

I’ve been waiting for over two months to write this.  I’ve been waiting until it felt safe, until the timing was just right.  But, my first trimester has nearly come and gone and my clothes are snug and it still doesn’t feel “just right” and it most certainly does not feel safe.  My sister-in-law, Sarah (who is due with her second baby in November) asked me today when we were going to tell people.  And we have told a few people, we’ve just not done the 21^st century, interweb big announcement.  It feels silly to say that I’ve been waiting on the “perfect time” (all the while knowing that does not exist) to write a blog, post a picture, leave a status, do SOMETHING to tell our cyber friends our good news.  So, this is it: I am pregnant!

When I got pregnant with Levi, I knew immediately how I wanted to announce the pregnancy.  I recruited Becca shortly after we heard the heartbeat and sent her the picture ideas I had dutifully saved for months and months on Pinterest.  We had a ball during our photo shoot and ended up choosing an original, “Becca pose” for our announcement.  We spent more than I did on wedding invitations (only a slight exaggeration) on the cutest announcements on the highest quality paper.  (It’s still the best pregnancy announcement I’ve ever seen!) I addressed envelopes weeks in advance and once our 12 week appointment went well, we dropped those suckers in the mail.  I took goodies to lunch and told my school friends our news, and like the best friend that she is, Megan brought me presents on the same day.  It was perfect. 

And this time, well, it’s just different.  We are over the moon excited and hopeful, but there’s an air of unreality, too.  We’ve traded in our “whens” for “ifs” and although it sounds so very silly to admit, there’s a part of me that does not want to jinx this pregnancy by admitting it exists.  There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to look foolish for getting excited about something that’s not a sure thing.  Then, there’s the flip side that wants everything to feel and be as normal as it can be.  There’s the me that wants to stop going to GlowintheWoods and join the “normal” pregnancy forums where moms gripe about morning sickness and debate the need for a jogging stroller as if they KNOW their babies are going to show up on schedule and require something in which to stroll. There’s the part of me that wants to plan a gender reveal party because we didn’t last time, and on the flip side I’ve briefly considered not even finding out the gender because maybe that’ll help me to get less attached. 

But do I want to be attached.  If the next 5 months or so are the only months I get with this little one, I want to love him/her as fiercely as I did Levi.  This baby deserves my excitement just as much as he did.  I’ve been waiting until it felt “safe” to announce this pregnancy, and I realized tonight that it will feel safe when I am holding a breathing baby in my arms come November.  Until then, I am cautiously optimistic.  I am hoping for the best.  I am praying that parenting my own living child is in God’s plan for my life.  I am more full of joy than I am worry. But I do not feel like it’s a sure thing.  I won’t be having any showers and I doubt we buy too many things until he or she arrives here safely.  

I’m really looking forward to writing about this journey.  I’m excited to have new things to write about and new experiences to share.  I want to remember every stage of this pregnancy.  I want to be able to look back on God’s provision and protection.  I’d love to be an encouragement to someone else that has experienced the pain we have.  So, I’ve already started writing a lot and have been waiting to post until after the Big Announcement was made.  So this is it!  We are excited and scared and grateful and anxious and high risk and hopeful and praying and trusting and fretting and PREGNANT! 

One Year Ago

Today has been one of those days that I just wanted to write.  School was “normal” today if high school is ever really normal.  I picked Baby A up right after school and she was happy and playful and we enjoyed an afternoon of laughing and singing and drooling (her, not me)!  But all throughout the day, I’ve had this little cloud of sadness following me around.  I’ll forget why it’s there and then remember and the cloud gets bigger and sadder. 

One year ago today, my friend Amber delivered a sleeping daughter they call “Baby Girl.”  One year ago she was not my friend and I had no idea how much I would need her four short months later.  I am so sad that one year ago today her life changed forever and so grateful that it did because of the blessing she’s been to me.  She’s the first one who told me I would be okay who I actually believed.  She’s the one who told me that books on grief would help me, but the Word of God would heal me.  She looked “together” and “normal” four month after her world came crashing down just like mine did.  If she could be okay, maybe I could be, too. 

Amber and her husband released balloons and butterflies at their Baby Girl’s gravesite today.  They took her older daughters to lunch and to pick out a birthday cake for their sister.  Her hope was to make the day “sweet and special” for her daughters.  I can’t imagine how difficult today has been for them.  It makes me so glad that Amber and I serve a risen Savior that knows our pain and gives us hope.   

Mother's Day Recap

I’ve tried several times to write about Mother’s Day, but nothing has seemed to do it justice.  The weekend followed an incredibly stressful week.  I started the week with a nasty old that I promptly shared with the baby and the husband.  We attended a memorial service for Baby Kinsley on Tuesday, and Wednesday began our tumultuous planning for Baby A’s first weekend away from home.  Plus, my blogger friend/idol Brooke wrote a fabulous blog (check it out here) about Mother’s Day and everything I wrote seemed to pale in comparison of the eloquence with which she wrote.

So here’s a re-cap.  I came home Friday to find a lovely basket on the table and a very sweet card from Skip.  At first, I thought my date challenged husband thought that Mother’s Day was actually Friday. No, really.  Then, I read the card and realized that he was just early because he anticipated a busy weekend filming multiple weddings.  Let me tell you, the man could write for Hallmark.  I am still carrying around a card he gave me about a month after we lost Levi in my purse and I am thinking about doing the same with this one.  Anyway, the basket was full of fancy skin care products including self-tanner since I’ve sworn off the tanning bed and awesome bronzer that takes the paste off my face.  Rumor has it he had contemplated hiring a cleaning lady, but the makeup was just as nice…almost.  The present just validated the fact that Mother’s Day is a very difficult holiday for me (and many others for many reasons) but it is my holiday, too.

Friday night, Amoura and I took mom out for a Mother’s Day (weekend) dinner.  It was a meager gift comparatively, but we had a really nice time.  Between the sickness and the craziness of the week, I didn’t even make time to get a card, but she didn’t care.  We spent most of Saturday together, too.  It feels so good to know that someone is always on my side.  Whether I am wrong or unreasonable or tooting my own horn, my mama agrees with me like it’s the gospel.  She worries with me over Baby A and is a bigger help than I could’ve hoped for with her, too.  We love her.  Hope this makes up for not getting that card!

Then Sunday came.  Church felt only slightly awkward.  It’s amazing the things I notice and the words that trigger heart palpitations now that never have before.  I could tell when our pastor was about to go into the Mother’s Day segment (the 67 or so children that filled the stage were a dead give away).  Our pastor eloquently spoke about all the various situations the females present could be experiencing, and therefore, all the women were asked to stand and given a commemorative pen by one of the little ones on stage.  Last year, I was pregnant with Levi and the word “stillbirth” was not in my vernacular, so I cannot remember what the schpill was like.  I just remember being giddy and un-jaded. But, this time didn't wholly suck.

The rest of the day was a blur of lunch with Skip’s family and anticipation of Baby A’s return.  My motherly instincts told me the pick up would not go smoothly and it didn’t.  When she didn’t come back on time, I spent about an hour thinking that, like the other little boy that made me a mama, I might never see her again.  But then the phone rang and the pick up time was changed, and I could breathe a little easier.  We took her home and gave her a bath and lots of extra snuggles before putting her to bed. 

And then Mother’s Day was over and I was never so happy to be going back to school on a Monday.   Just like when I went back after Levi, I needed to be somewhere that I was in control, where I have a say. It was a great Monday and just before it ended, a guidance counselor who I don’t know really well or have much reason to work with closely, walked into my room with a beautiful calla lily and a bright orange decorative watering can. Oh, and a Mother’s Day card.  She apologized for being late and told me to plant a little garden for “my Levi.”  Her words were music to my ears.  I so seldom have someone bring him up to me let alone call him by name, it was all I could do to hold back the tears.  The fact that 8 months later, she thought of me on Mother’s Day and went out of her way to acknowledge it for me left me speechless. 

All in all, I survived Mother’s Day.  I spent a lot of time missing the two babies who’ve made me a mama.  Thankfully, one of is now asleep upstairs, and I’d like to think that the other is running around heaven playing with his cousin, Kinsley.

Levi's Lily

Five Weeks Later

We’ve had Baby A five weeks today.  I’ve learned so much about parenthood in the last month.  I find myself wondering all the time if some of the things I’ve picked up on quickly because I have mom genes (not mom jeans-lol) and was already a mother before we got her or because necessity is a quick teacher.  I can say that I have learned the meaning of “it takes a village to raise a child.”  And I just love my villagers! 

What I have to remember and say to myself over and over again is that this is temporary.  In one sense, it’s a marvelous arrangement.  She’s in such a fun stage and we’re getting to watch her learn to walk, teach her to touch her nose on command, and hear the new words she’s learning to say (namely “da-da” and “na-na”).  But then, we won’t have to pay for braces or buy her first car, or float a loan to send her to college.  So why does it disappoint me to think about not being the one to do those things for her?

It’s funny the amount of people who want to know, “can you keep her?”  I am quick to answer “no” as much as a reminder for myself than anything.  We knew going into this that she would only be ours for a time.  We agreed to the very thing that stopped us from pursuing foster care- knowingly falling in love with a baby that will one day not live in our home.  It will be hard to give her back when the time comes, but it would’ve been harder to have said no to a situation that can’t be called anything else but a calling.  So, we hope and we pray and we are working towards a relationship with her mother that will always allow us to be in her life. 

Tomorrow will be her first overnight visitation with her mother since we’ve had her.  If I said I was looking forward to it, I’d be lying.  My reaction to this weekend arrangement has given me a tiny glimpse of how difficult it will be to one day give her back for good.  What I think (and pray) will be the difference is that her mom will be ready to take her back.  She’ll have a steady, dependable job.  She will have secured childcare and a stable, permanent roof to put over her head.  She’s not there yet.  The weekend arrangement is a bit precarious and the plans were not well, planned out originally and that caused me some serious anxiety.  Throw in the fact that this Sunday is Mother’s Day and this weekend has been a source of dread for me since earlier this week when I was told this would happen.  Skip and I are always saying that our motto has become, “we do hard stuff,” and this weekend will be no different.  We knew going into this that it was not going to be easy and it hasn’t been.  It has, however, been worth it. It has given us an experience that we’ve longed for, for so long.  We are parents, and we’re not half bad at it.