My Love, My Bump, and Me

Weeks before our daughter surprised us with her early arrival, Handsome Husband and I headed to Old Towne Orange to get some maternity photos done.  I was on the fence as to whether or not I felt the need to get maternity photos done, but I am so glad we decided to do them.  I love looking back at these, especially now that we've met the little blessing that was inside my belly during these pictures.

Our photographer for these photos, Jen from Simple Smiles Photography, was great and very reasonably priced if you're located in Orange County, California and looking for a family photographer!

And Then There Were Three

For those of you wondering why I fell off the face of the blogosphere, there is one big (6 pounds, 4 ounces to be exact) reason:

Emma Katherine

was born December 19, 2013 at 6:52 pm

at 38 weeks, due to an unexpected induction

weighing 6 pounds, 4 ounces

measuring 19 1/2 inches

Somehow a month has both flown by and felt incredibly long at the same time.  One thing that's for sure is that this little girl has added so much joy and love to our life, and I can't wait to share more with my readers here at Stress Case.  I was not planning on taking a leave from the blog (I also wasn't planning on having her 2 weeks early, though!), but my intention is to come back full-force in the next weeks!  I will be sharing a detailed birth story, a one month (already!) update, the ugly truth about my baby blues, and much more about this little princess.  I promise not to let this blog completely become a "mommy blog", tough though it may be!  

On Babymaking: A Rainbow After the Storm

Post originally written Monday, April 29, 2013.  You can read the rest of my Babymaking journey HERE.

After losing my pregnancy last month, I expected to wait a few more months for another positive test.  I was so very scared of it happening again, in fact, that I considered breifly taking a break and regrouping my thoughts.  But, since it took us about six months the first time around, I figured we should just keep on trucking.

The more removed I got my from the chemical pregnancy, the more positive I became.  I was really starting to see the silver lining as it were that my doctor seemed so happy about.  The true good thing out of March's loss was that I knew that I could get pregnant, and so it helped me to be positive moving forward.

In the weeks following the misscarriage, I prayed a lot.  I never told anyone this, but every single day on my lunch for weeks, I would stop in the small hospital chapel and say a small prayer for not just myself, not just the pregnancy I lost and hopes of another, but for women everywhere losing babies one way or another and suffering from the very strange invisible loss that a misscarriage, and certainly an early loss, feels like.

I decided to buckle up, settle in, and get to waiting for another pregnancy and each prayer included a note that God, please let the next one be meant to end up in a baby.

You'll imagine my surprise when the very next month I got two pink lines.

Before I took a test (I'm writing this on Monday, and I got my positive test last Wednesday, for reference), I sort of had a feeling.  I felt exactly the same as the previous month, but I thought I must be just forgetting what it felt like the month prior to that.  There was no way I could be lucky enough to get pregnant twice in two months time, I thought.  But the counter-thought (this is how my brain works, a constant internal argument with myself) to that one was I haven't exactly been lucky, maybe I'm due for some good luck.

I had told myself I would wait until Friday to take a test, but simply couldn't wait anymore on Wednesday.  So Wednesday night, before sitting down to eat dinner with my Handsome Husband, I snuck off the bathroom and while I should have seen two pink lines on the test, instead I saw a rainbow.  A sweet rainbow after the storm telling me that there was going to be joy after our pain in this journey and that joy was coming sooner than I had imagined.

Telling HH was much different than last time, but more intimate in a way.  We were both surprised and delighted.  I have currently not told a single soul, which feels funny, but also sort of nice.  Nice to have a secret between just me, HH, and God, of course.  Speaking of God, do I think the prayer did it?  I don't know, but I can't imagine it hurt.

I am feeling much more positive this time around, which seems a little backwards.  But for some reason, this time just feels right.  Sure, I am scared that it will happen again and I will be choking up reading these very words when I have to edit my story again, but I sure hope that's not the case, and I feel confident it won't be.  Preparing myself for the worst last time did not help me when the worst happened.  It did not make it hurt less because I knew it might happen, it didn't ease the pain because I was not ignorant.  So this time, instead of preparing for the worst, I am hoping for the best.

And that, is our journey so far.  When this finally finds its way to the blog, I will be over 27 weeks pregnant, and as I sit here currently editing it (October 4, 2013), I'm feeling my little girl thump away in my belly.  You can read Bumpdates for this pregnancy HERE - and I'm due January 2nd!

On Babymaking: Becoming a Sad Statistic

Post originally written on April 8, 2013 at 6:05pm.  This has been, by far, the hardest post in my Babymaking series to hit Publish on.  The thing that makes it easier is that I am on my way to my happy ending, currently cooking my sweet baby girl - you can check out Bumpdates throughout my current pregnancy HERE.  There is something so taboo about discussing this, as evidenced by the fact that many people I know in real life have no idea this happened.  I went back and forth on whether or not to ever publish this post, but it is a part of my story, and my story wouldn't be complete without it.  I also remember feeling like it was so completely unfair that everyone else just wanted to get pregnant, got pregnant, had these easy pregnancies, and ended up with babies.  I want people to know that wasn't my story, though I continue to count my blessings because my troubles have not been nearly has hard as they could have been.

 

It has taken me over two weeks to write this.  I think the main reason is that I knew when I wrote this, I would have to go back to my Drafts and open and eventually delete the post entitled The Happiest Birthday, because it's not longer applicable.  And if I'm being honest?  I haven't even opened it now.  I am scared to read what I wrote on March 15th, 2013, the day I turned 25 and the day I got my first positive pregnancy test.  Because my first pregnancy to date, that I wished for and prayed for and hoped for, did not end the way it should have.  And that is the story I'm forcing myself to sit down and write now, because one day?  I'll want to read this, even though right now I find that hard to believe.  And if not, if I ever actually post this, maybe someone else will read it and take something from it that helps them go through what they are going through - the way I felt when I reread Megan and Ashley's stories the very day I got my diagnosis: chemical pregnancy.

I guess I should explain from the beginning.  

After the month where I tried least to get pregnant over the past five months, I was starting to get my hopes up.  Of course every time HH asked me if I thought this might be the month, I reassured him no way, but I think I was just trying to protect myself.  Why get excited for something and then have mother nature shit all over my plans like it had for months?  I was definitely not pregnant, no way.

The day my period was due was also my birthday (happy birthday to me), and on my way out the door for work I grabbed a cheap pregnancy test.  While some might find it a little odd to take a pregnancy test at work (and by some, I mean me too really), I had always had these big dreams of telling HH in a fun surprising way (though, not sure how surprising it really could have been, but I digress).  I knew the only way to get to surprise him was for me to find out at work, and tell him when he got home later that night.  So that morning, after holding it and doing a potty dance all the way to work, hours before my first employee or patient would arrive (and off the clock, thankyouverymuch), I took the pregnancy test that was sure to be negative.  And after a few minutes, my definitely not going to be positive test turned positive.

It's funny they say a woman becomes a mother the minute she sees those two pink lines, but motherly was not the feeling coming over me.  I felt like a child, giddy with excitement, and there were lots of "no f-ing way"s and "holy crap"s uttered in my tiny work bathroom.  It's strange, with the amount of effort I had put into getting pregnant, I could have never prepared myself for the feeling I would get when I finally got there.

After a few moments to myself (and no tears, I knew I wasn't going to cry), I went to my desk, clocked in, and smiled like a crazy person all day.  I couldn't believe it had finally happened - all those thoughts of me being worried I would never get pregnant, how silly was I!  I am pregnant, I am going to have a baby!  I can't believe I ever worried, I will totally get to have the family I've always wanted, and here I am starting with this first little life that I just found out about.

One of the sadder things for me to remember is the amount of times I reached into my purse to look at the positive test.  Not because I thought it would change between glimpses, but because I was so happy, I wanted to remind myself every few minutes about what had just happened.  I think I must have looked 15 times in the hour before my other employees starting showing up.

But the day went on, and the purse ended up staying closed.  After all, there were other women's babies I needed to take care of, and I had to keep busy to avoid from announcing it to every person who walked in the door.  I kept thinking, how do people keep this a secret for so long?  I want everyone to know, I am no longer just your nurse - I am your nurse, and I am going to be a mom!

When the work day ended, I went to a local department store and bought a boy and girl onesie and planned to tell HH by giving them to him.  For the sake of honesty, I'm going to admit the big reveal to Hubs didn't go quite as planned, there was lots of shock (I guess I was wrong, and it was easy to be surprised), but at the end of the day we were excited and after a few days we were very excited. 

Only a few days after finding out, I decided to tell my best friend, CA, because I knew I needed someone to be able to talk to.  In my mind, if God fobid, something happened, I would want to talk to her about that anyway, so it was safe to spill.  We debated on who else to tell, but decided to keep it on the DL until at least after our first appointment, which would have been in two days as I'm writing this, on April 10th.  But, you already know this story doesn't end with us telling our families elaborately, with MIL Red jumping up and down and Hat Dad tearing up with the news.

On Wednesday, March 20th, I began spotting.  It was very light and I wasn't feeling pain, and all the pregnancy message boards reassured me not to worry, this was totally normal.  But I felt like something was wrong.  I was hesitant to give my feelings too much power, though, because hadn't I been worried I would never be able to get pregnant in the first place?  Perhaps (and by perhaps, I mean definitely) I'm just an overthinker by nature (no shit just said all my friends and family reading), and wouldn't it be silly to get myself all worked up because I feel funny.  But I did call the doctor, and I did get some blood work done, and I was trying to take it easy like the doctor had advised.  And by the end of the day?  I had a doctor's appointment that Friday (which just so happened to be HH's birthday), and the spotting had stopped. 

Thursday there was no spotting, and what hurts my heart the most right now is remembering how ridiculously excited I was for the doctor's appointment the next morning.  I can't think about myself lying in bed telling HH "it's so exciting, even though we won't be able to see anything really, we'll be able to see where the baby is going to grow!" without wanting to cry.  I wasn't being naive, I knew something could still go wrong, but I hoped and prayed that when the spotting left, so did some of the risk.

And then Friday came and the spotting was back.  And within hours it went from spotting to heavy spotting to bleeding and then, I knew.  1. I am a nurse, and 2. a master googler.  I know what is normal, and what isn't.  And before I even made it to my lunchtime doctor's appointment, I knew what bad news was awaiting me.  While I know he was just trying to be supportive, the "everything is going to be okay"s from HH were kind, but I knew they simply weren't true about this.

After an ultrasound where the technician was quite coy about what was going on, we met with the doctor who told us she had "good news and bad news".  The bad news was exactly what I feared - there was no baby anymore, I had suffered a chemical pregnancy, or in layman's terms - an early miscarriage.  Oh, but the good news?  I got pregnancy in the first place, and that was a good thing.

At the time, that seemed like such bullshit that it made me hate her.  Here I was, losing a baby and the potential for this little life I so badly wanted to create, and this chick is telling me there's good news?  There was a lot of holding back some "shut the f up"s on my end, but with some distance, I see what she was saying, and I imagine I'll write about that whole "silver lining" of the situation another time.

Back to the bad news.  It hurt, obviously, but in the strangest way.  I didn't feel grief like I was losing a family member, after all, I had only known I was pregnant for a week.  What I felt was more like longing.  I immediately wanted to go back, to get to see the  two lines on the test again, to get to relive telling my husband, I wanted to go back to the night before when I was excited and not this moment I was currently in where I felt broken and raw and empty.

There were lots of tears, and a sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized the only way out this office was through the waiting room full of people waiting for their happy appointments.  Their first ultrasounds where they would take home black and white pictures to go try and figure out which end was the head at home, the anatomy scans where couples would be delighted to find out their baby was 100% healthy, and the last appointments where the doctor finally gives in and schedules an induction and the soon-to-be new parents get to match a birth day with their baby.  It didn't seem quite fair that I had to leave through the same room they were all waiting in, with my handful of tissues and my bloodshot, swollen eyes.  It wasn't fair, but none of it really was.

We went home, and I made some phone calls that needed to be made.  One to CA, who was saddened in a way that made me love her even more than before.  I heard the urge to cry in her voice not because she was losing much, but because she knew how much I was hurting in the moment.  And a phone call to my mother, who didn't even know I was pregnant, but needed to know what I was going through.

There were more tears, some hardcore wishing this was a nightmare, and lots of hugs from HH, as he struggled to figure out how to help me get through something no one should have to go through.  But at the moment I felt so definitively alone, I was not alone at all.  I was a sad, sad statistic.  Because according to my doctor (and there are many other stats you can find online that hover around the same ballpark numbers), chemical pregnancies happen in one of three conceptions.  One in three times an egg is fertilized, it doesn't last past six weeks of pregnancy (the official line that is drawn separating a chemical pregnancy and a miscarriage).  My doctor explained many of these pregnancies go undetected, by women who aren't actively trying to get pregnant or don't even realize their period is a few days late.  My doctor told me this was completely random, and that it most likely wouldn't happen again.  

The days that followed were hard, but for many different reasons.  Mainly because no one really knew what I was going through (but a select few) and so there was no sense of mourning for anyone really but me (and HH, but men are so different).  There was no tip-toeing around me, because no one knew that they should be.  The very next day actually, we had a birthday party with HH's family, and part of me wanted to scream "what the hell is everyone so excited about, I just lost a baby, dammit" and the other part of me knew that even if I did, it would never make me feel better.

But I didn't feel like I was losing a baby.  I felt like I was losing the potential of one.  I lost my beautiful story of feeling blessed that God gave me the most wonderful birthday present of all - a new life.  I was losing telling HH's family on Mother's Day that there was a new mother in the room.  Gone was my idea to tell my girlfriends with a party to kick off the summer.  I was losing my November 20th due date, which was so funny because TG had a baby two days after my birthday and I would have one just days after hers!  I lost my Christmas newborn, a way to surely see the holiday season in a new light.  I was losing all the things I had initially thought about this baby, and it would never be the same with the next.  And more importantly, I would never have another first pregnancy.  This would always be the first chapter in the novel of the family I hope to have one day.

The more removed I get, the easier it has become.  It is not all I think about now, and I am not crying every day.  But sometimes, in moments I least expect, I feel a wave of sadness and that longing feeling come over me and it's like I can't breathe.  Like the loss is choking me and there is a tightening in my chest that hurts so badly and I wonder if I will ever not get those waves of pain.  I don't ever want to forget, but I don't always want to feel so overcome with this feeling either.

Even after spending the last hour writing this, I truly don't know that I will ever publish it.  That this will ever become a part of Stress Case's official blog story.  But unfortunately, I don't have any say in whether it is a part of Casey Micheil's story (though I do still have fleeting wishes it was a nightmare), because it is.  And now I'm just trying to turn the page, and see what comes next.

Linking up with Things I Can't Say for Pour Your Heart Out.

On Babymaking: I Cried

Post originally written December 21, 2012, the fourth month I was hoping to fall pregnant and in fact, did not.  You can read earlier posts from our Babymaking Journey HERE.

I don't care about TMI today, so Dad, stop reading.  Today, I am sad, and today I am telling it how it is.

Yesterday, Mother Nature came for a visit.  A few days earlier than expected, and after I really thought this month might be our month.  Without getting in to to many technical details, I showed some real signs of possibly being pregnant during the dreaded wait between sexytime and pregnancy test time.  (I realize now some of these potential signs were probably in my head, and that makes me feel silly and stupid.)

I really felt positive this month.  I also really wanted to be able to tell my Handsome Husband I was pregnant on Christmas morning.  I daydreamed a few more times that I'd like to admit about what a beautiful moment it would be with us sleepy-eyed on the floor of our new home rejoicing about the fact that our family was soon going to grow by two little feet.

And now that won't happen.  Not this month, at least.  And I cried about it.  It was the first time during this process that I've shed a tear about it.  Which is sort of unlike me being that I'm kind of a three-year-old stuck in a 24-year-old's life in that I cry about just about anything that doesn't go my way.

I'm starting to wonder if something is wrong with us, if we will ever get to have a baby.  I know that's rash, and there are people who tried way longer than this that are laughing as they read this, but here's the thing: I'm not desperate for a baby.  I'm really not.  Would I like one?  Obviously.  Am I overjoyed when I think about the posibility?  Absolutely.  But am I desperate for one?  No.

What scares me is each month that I don't get pregnant, I wonder if something is wrong.  If there's a reason I've always been so scared of infertility - if somehow I always knew.  I suppose only time will tell.

The silver lining is that a huge bottle of champagne and an even bigger hangover are now calling my name on New Year's Eve.

On Babymaking: Feeling Positive

Post originally written December 12, 2012 - during my third offical (but really fourth) dreaded "Two Week Wait".  Read more about our Babymaking Journey HERE.

I am feeling strangely positive this month.  I'm certainly no Debbie Downer (at least not most days), but optimism is not necessarily my strong suit.  But I'm hoping, praying, and putting good vibes out that this might be the month.

I really have no reason for this sudden burst of positivity, but I'm just feelin' good for some reason.  Hoping not to be let down...again.

I've found one thing that is really helping me to not be as upset each month that Aunt Flow comes back to visit (after I've prayed that she'll just go and take a 10 month hike).

Each month there seems to be a pro and a minor con of getting knocked up that particular month (lets be clear: the pro of having a sweet baby outweighs any of the cons, but anything to keep cheery, right?).

This month?

A few major pros (again, all secondary to the joy a new life could bring to our lives): I could potentially tell my amazing Handome Husband on Christmas, I would be due near the beginning of his second year of law school (as opposed to nearer to finals), and I would not be a huge pregnant mess on my 25th birthday (just a slightly pregnant pudge-y looking mess, I'm sure - this one is a bit of a stretch), and I would be just far enough long to feel comfortable telling my girlfriends on our upcoming girls weekend in January.

A con? I would be a few weeks pregnant on New Years Eve.  Now before you go calling me a lush, this just puts me in an awkward position because I won't be able to drink, but literally have just found out - seems quite early to share that with people. 

I'm thinking we'll cross that bridge when if we get to it.

On Babymaking: Oops, I Spilled the Beans

This series of eight posts was written throughout our journey of trying to conceive our little New Years Baby. I am so glad I started writing from the very beginning, because I can look back and remember how I felt during this time. I remember feeling like every single person in the blogworld's story started out with something like "so we started trying, and much to my surprise, I got a positive test a few weeks later, and 9 months later we had a healthy baby!". While I by no means, suffered from infertility, our road to where we are now was not completely covered in rainbows and butterflies. There was anxiety, and sadness, and lots of worry. I know there are women out there who feel like less of a woman because they didn't get pregnant that very first month, and I know that because I am one of them. I hope that, in addition to great diary entries of what was going on in my mind at the time, maybe just one woman will relate to our story.

Post originally written December 12, 2012 (12-12-12 what what!), over a month after both of all these spilling the beans occurances actually happened, and over three months into our Babymakin'
Journey.  You can read previous posts on Babymaking HERE.

When my Handsome Husband and I decided to start giving babymakin' a try, we decided we were going to keep things on the DL.  This decision was made partly because it seems like that's what just about everyone does and for a few other reasons:

1. I didn't want to get asked monthly if I was knocked up.

2. I didn't want to hear any negative opinions on our decision, and you best believe I better not hear them if I am ever blessed to announce a pregnancy either.

3. I wanted the freedom to be able to change my mind on trying, without people wondering if we were having troubles or what the deal-io was.

So, we kept it quiet.

And it was way too hard.

Here's the thing about me: I'm a share-er.  I like to share.  I want to talk about my life with my friends, and it felt so inorganic to be making this huge decision without telling both my friends, and my ultimate best friend: my momma.

But I forged on in my journey of secrecy.  And then about two months in, I got drunk (clearly knowing I wasn't pregnant, y'all know I love to booze, but give me a little credit!)...and spilled the beans.  Multiple times.

Up first, was Gardening Momma:

 

Gardening Mom and I were on our way home from a Halloween Party, she was driving, when I brought up some things I had found out about my schooling.  (To make a very long story short: I was planning to take an online program to further my nursing education while my HH is in law school.  However, this online program that had a partnership with the state nursing board of California is no longer being accepted here, and I will be unable to do that particular program.  This means that my education is basically on hold until HH is done, because I need to be working and the nursing school programs around here do not offer evening or part-time programs, unfortunately.)

While explaining that to GM, I mentioned that the only good thing was that I didn't feel like I had to put starting a family on hold until I was done with school anymore (something I've felt in the past), because I'm certainly not waiting 4+ years.  Sidenote: there's nothing wrong with people that might want to wait until that age/stage in their life, but it has never been what I've wanted, nor my husband.

While she took the school news much better than I thought, then Gardening Mama then had a simple question that made me clam up:

 

"So when are you thinking of starting a family, then?"  

 

Well, what the hell could I say to that?  Was I going to look her in the eye and lie to her face?  No.  Did I mean to set myself up into having to spill the beans to her?  Also no.  I mumbled and fumbled a bit until finally saying something super eloquent along the lines of "pretty much now, or soon ish or, something, I dunno."  After further conversation, I did come clean and the secret was out.  The funny thing, we've really vaguely discussed since, but it's definitely not something we're chatting about on the reg.

 

Then, I started slowly and pretty much accidentally spilling the beans to my friendlies:

 

First, there was our Housewarming Party, where I somehow (I think 6 glasses of super strong party punch had something to do with it) ended up in my bathroom telling a huge group of my girlfriends how desperately I wanted to get pregnant (which isn't even true - the desperate part that is, I'm not there yet).  This was not how I intended (actually, I wasn't intending at all) to tell these special girls in my life that I was hoping for a big change coming soon, but it is what it is.

 

A few weeks later, while visiting Fashionista and Swagger up in the City of Angels, I let it slip there too.  That time I was actually not drinking (okay, who am I kidding, I was two glasses of wine deep, but I wasn't drunk!).  The deets of the convo are just a little too personal to get into (Fashion and Swag know what we were talking about!), but I inadvertently spit it out to excited cheers from my oldest friends.  I have to be honest with the fact they I really downplayed things to my girls (may or may not have used the expression "pulled the goalie") and it's sort of been haunting me ever since.  I mostly felt awkward about talking about active trying to get pregnant while in a bar, and it wasn't in my plan to discuss it in the first place!  

So that is how the word unintentionally got out about this little journey.

My hope is that soon I'll be telling people about an actual pregnancy!

 

I also wanted to point out that, in actuality, the first person to know about us officially "trying" was Tutor Girl, who I convided in months before as we considered the possibility, and who was a great pillar of support and advice.

On Babymaking: What a Mind Eff

This series of eight posts was written throughout our journey of trying to conceive our little New Years Baby. I am so glad I started writing from the very beginning, because I can look back and remember how I felt during this time. I remember feeling like every single person in the blogworld's story started out with something like "so we started trying, and much to my surprise, I got a positive test a few weeks later, and 9 months later we had a healthy baby!". While I by no means, suffered from infertility, our road to where we are now was not completely covered in rainbows and butterflies. There was anxiety, and sadness, and lots of worry. I know there are women out there who feel like less of a woman because they didn't get pregnant that very first month, and I know that because I am one of them. I hope that, in addition to great diary entries of what was going on in my mind at the time, maybe just one woman will relate to our story.

Post originally written November 9, 2012 - about three months into our Babymaking journey.  Read about the decision to start trying HERE and my first negative test HERE.

So our first really half-assed, middle of month decision, month of trying had come and gone.  I had my first negative test, but I stayed positive as I knew we hadn't really tried that first month.  It was more of a spur of the moment thing.

Month two, here we come!  And this time, I'm not joking around.  I started charting - a crazy person thing in and of itself, something I literally had no clue about until I had been married over a year and started doing some research on the whole babymaking thing.

I was armed and ready for this little battle, and had no intention of taking this war past two months.  I was going to win this damn thing and my prize would be a baby!  Without getting into too many details (because mostly, I don't want to explain all the insane abbreviations - BBT, TTC, OPK, BD, blah blah blah), I backed myself with an army of fertility aids.  I knew when I ovulated, and I knew when to expect my enemy (aka that bitch, Mother Nature).

So we did our thing (still can't get over how awkward this is to write about), and I waited.  I was determined to wait until I missed my period before taking a test, but then again my willpower blows, so I tested slightly early.  Another negative (can we just talk about how effing ridiculous it is that for your entire sexually active life until you're ready for kids, you are so relieved to see a negative pregnancy test and then all of the sudden it's the worst part of your day week month?).  Okay, no biggie, it was still early and it wasn't the end of the world - this was after all the first real month of trying.

But then I waited.  And waited.  And wouldn't you know it, my friend still hadn't arrived.  I shit you not, kids, this was the latest Mother Nature had arrived for the party in my entire life.  So I kept taking tests, and getting negatives, and getting sad, and then still waiting. 

{source}

And then, finally, five days later than I expected her, my nasty little friend arrived. 

I was sad not to be one of those lucky ones who gets pregnant right away, how easy that would have been.  But I'm not in any huge rush, and I have faith that when He is ready to tell Mother Nature to eff off - He will do so.

On Babymaking: My First Negative Test

This series of eight posts was written throughout our journey of trying to conceive our little New Years Baby.  I am so glad I started writing from the very beginning, because I can look back and remember how I felt during this time.  I remember feeling like every single person in the blogworld's story started out with something like "so we started trying, and much to my surprise, I got a positive test a few weeks later, and 9 months later we had a healthy baby!".  While I by no means, suffered from infertility, our road to where we are now was not completely covered in rainbows and butterflies.  There was anxiety, and sadness, and lots of worry.  I know there are women out there who feel like less of a woman because they didn't get pregnant that very first month, and I know that because I am one of them.  I hope that, in addition to great diary entries of what was going on in my mind at the time, maybe just one woman will relate to our story.

Originally written Saturday, September 29, read about our babymaking decision HERE.

After we made the decision to give babymaking a try, we, well...gave it a try.  

I have to be honest in that part of my reasoning for wanting to try to start a family sooner rather than later was due to my serious and paralyzing fear of infertility.  I've written about it here on the blog before, but it is seriously something that has haunted me for my entire life.  I have always had an (at the time) illegitimate fear of not being able to get pregnant.  I think a lot of this fear stems from the fact that there are only a very small handful of things I've always wanted to be: a wife, a mom, and a generally good person - all my other goals have come and gone or come to be over time.  Those three have been lifelong goals.  And while I know there are ways to be a mother without ever being pregnant, that is not how I've ever imagined my entrance into motherhood, so if I'm being honest?  Not being able to get pregnant would be a huge disappointment to me.

So, when we tried (still can't get over how awkward it is talking about your sex life on your blog, but for the sake of accurate history to look back on) for the first month, I had hopes that maybe just maybe I would be one of the lucky ones who gets pregnant on the first try: 1. because we wanted a baby, and 2. because it would ease my fears so quickly.

I didn't want to be one of those crazy people who takes a pregnancy test days and days before the crimson tide (Clueless reference, anyone?) came in, but when we had our friends over to help us paint our house and everyone was drinking, I couldn't help but want to throw back a few.  And theoretically I could test, so I went ahead a took one, knowing not to get my hopes up.  

Long story short, it was a sad little moment in the bathroom when my baby dreams didn't come true on the first try.  A small victory for the drinker in me, as I drowned my sorrows in a couple bottles of bud lights.

Back to the drawing board.

On Babymaking: The Decision

This series of eight posts was written throughout our journey of trying to conceive our little New Years Baby.  I am so glad I started writing from the very beginning, because I can look back and remember how I felt during this time.  I remember feeling like every single person in the blogworld's story started out with something like "so we started trying, and much to my surprise, I got a positive test a few weeks later, and 9 months later we had a healthy baby!".  While I by no means, suffered from infertility, our road to where we are now was not completely covered in rainbows and butterflies.  There was anxiety, and sadness, and lots of worry.  I know there are women out there who feel like less of a woman because they didn't get pregnant that very first month, and I know that because I am one of them.  I hope that, in addition to great diary entries of what was going on in my mind at the time, maybe just one woman will relate to our story.

This post was originally written on Sunday, September 23 - a little over a week after we made "the decision".

The decision to start a family is not an easy one.  And by that I don't mean that myself and my Handsome Husband are not sure if we want a baby, or to have a family, but the decision as to when to start trying to start that family...not an easy one, in my opinion.

HH and I have always known we wanted to have kids (we say four now, but I think I need to have one before I know if I can handle four little ones running around).  It was something that didn't even really need a conversation because it was such an integral part of both of us, but of course there was a chat had at some point in our courtship - though it couldn't have been all that intense because I have no recollection of it.

We also always said we wanted to be "young parents".  We want to have the opportunity to know the generations that will follow us, and with our lofty conception goals, we'd have to get started young to pop em all out, right?

So about six months from our mid twenties (makes my stomach turn every single time) and a month or so after closing escrow on our very first home, we sat down and had a serious chat about babies.

I've always had a mental list of things I wanted to check off before a mini Stress Case came to be.  As we chatted, I realized I had crossed all of them off my list - married, financially independent, own a home, both have good jobs.  And at the top of the list of reasons why we should start a family?  We both really wanted to.

{via}

And while I'll keep some of the details of that little convo between HH and I, we clearly came to an agreement that night to give it a try.

(PS. Does anyone else think talking (to other people, not my HH) about the whole trying to get pregnant process is totally effing awkward?  Like yup, one night we decided to try to have a baby and then we had lots of ... fun trying, totes TMI.)

Firecracker

Along with some yummy hot dogs (and an adorable selection of toppings),

chicken sausage,

carne asada,

fruit and dip,

and lots of beer,

we treated our 4th of July guests to a little surprise...

 

 

That's right, there's a baby on the way!

Details to come!