Every time I hear that phrase I smile. It is a recurrent theme with our pastor, Ed Young at Fellowship Church, and can be applied to nearly all aspects of life. He even has a dog that he rescued named Level, because he brought him to a WNL. And there starts the grinning . . . :-)
After my last surgery I was still having quite a bit of abdominal pain that my general surgeon was blaming on my ovaries. To be honest I didn’t agree with him but decided to get checked out anyway just in case. As I suspected my ovaries were fine and the new OB/GYN I was seeing didn’t seem to believe that the pain was in any way related to my girlie parts. While I was there we discussed how Brent and I have been trying to conceive for well over a year with no success and I was attributing that to my IH. She suggested that we go ahead and do a blood test to check my hormone levels, just to make sure everything was normal.
As with most things in my life these days, of course my hormones were NOT normal. Go figure. She decided to wait a month and re-test to see if it was just an off day or a real problem, so a few weeks ago I went back and submitted some more blood – and then I waited, for an agonizing ten days. Friday afternoon the doctor’s nurse called me and told me that my progesterone levels were better, but still too low, and that the doctor had offered to let me try Clomid to see if we could get the ball rolling. After giving her my pharmacy information I couldn’t contain my excitement so I called to tell Brent the good, albeit bad, news.
Today I am on day three of the treatment and I feel no different – except that I have significantly increased energy. I suppose that’s a great thing though! There are two more days to go this month, and then we cross all of our fingers and toes and pray that it worked. Part of me wants to be ecstatic and jump for joy, but my more reasonable side says to be patient and not get my hopes up. That’s not to say to lose hope entirely; it’s just that when this first started I spent months feeling like a failure because I couldn’t give my husband a child. By the time the new year rolled around I was consumed with my headaches and put baby-making on the back burner. Now it’s front and center again and I fear the letdown.
Infertility is such a taboo subject in our society but it should not be. There are more women suffering from infertility than women who are not, a growing issue in our society that could be blamed on a million things but mostly boils down to our lifestyle. Some women do everything right and their bodies just don’t cooperate despite their best efforts. There are still others who neglect their bodies entirely and “accidentally” get pregnant. Women find it hard to talk about and find someone who relates to their problems and feelings to people they know and I just think that’s sad.
Do I feel ashamed of my infertility? At times, I suppose. It’s never a nice thing to have to admit, “I can’t get pregnant on my own, no matter how hard I try I just can’t make it happen.” It really does make me feel like I’m failing my husband somehow, this is what we were as women were made to do and I can’t do it. But on the same token, I am willing to take the necessary steps to make it happen. I think that many women could benefit from having someone to talk to about it.
For the first time in my life, I’ve felt jealously towards the pregnant – but not all of them. Mostly just against the teens, the young women who’ve whored themselves around and gotten knocked up by practically sneezing and it’s acceptable. I do realize accidents happen, but sheesh. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Surely there is a lesson in there, somewhere.
Now that I’m off my tangent, I really am anxious to see how the Clomid works. So far I haven’t had any of the side effects that I’ve read about which is great – I just hope it doesn’t mean that it’s not working!
Love, KC
Showing posts with label baby train. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby train. Show all posts
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 2, 2010
Twenty-Six Candles
Twenty-six years ago today, I was blessed with the most awesome parents and family a gal could ask for. In my unbiased opinion, I feel that I’ve lived a pretty amazing life thus far and there is not much more I could ask for. Being as I was the only child for my parents, it’s obvious that I was spoiled – not so much with “things” as with love, because that’s all they had. Times were tough when I was growing up but I was none the wiser, for I had two extremely dedicated parents along with two wonderful stepparents and a slew of grandparents that made sure I knew how great I was.
To this day, my family still makes me feel special on my birthday. It’s not as big a deal as it is when you turn, say, 13, but it’s still nice to know that your family and friends are thinking of you on your day. When I was younger, my mom used to come and wake me up at 2:51am (that’s what time I was born) and sometimes my grandmother and dad would even call me that early. I cherished it. This morning waking up was different, though, because I didn’t feel any older or that any miraculous changes had occurred overnight. My husband by my side and my son in his room, life is pretty grand. I can’t wait for the mornings when we have a slew of kiddos running around the house, jumping on the bed singing, “Happy birthday, Mama!” while my husband is making me breakfast in bed. (Okay, that last part is a stretch!)
Twenty-five was a really BIG year for me, in a lot of respects. Brent and I officially moved in together. Then we got engaged. Then we celebrated our first Christmas as a family, our first Christmas when LB will likely remember Santa. We got married. My headaches got worse. I was diagnosed with IH. I had major brain surgery, and then two more revisions. We realized we were struggling with infertility. LB had eye surgery again. But throughout all of it we made it, and that is what is most important. We have grown and learned so much during this past year that I can’t help but be anything but grateful for this blessed life I’m living.
Today, I turned twenty-six years old. My great-grandmother had my grandmother at 25; my grandmother had my mom at 25 and my mom had me at 25. For as long as I can remember, I was “supposed” to have my first child at 25, too. Obviously that didn’t happen, and before I met Brent I was okay with that – there was no rush! It’s not until you want to have that child that you feel the rush. I feel like I missed the mark. Like I let down the tradition. In a way, I did “have” LB when I was 25, so I guess that is the balance. There’s always got to be balance, right?
So maybe 26 will be my year. It can only get bigger and better from here. :-) A huge thank you to all of my sweet friends and family who have taken time out of their day today to wish me a happy birthday. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you.
Love, KC
To this day, my family still makes me feel special on my birthday. It’s not as big a deal as it is when you turn, say, 13, but it’s still nice to know that your family and friends are thinking of you on your day. When I was younger, my mom used to come and wake me up at 2:51am (that’s what time I was born) and sometimes my grandmother and dad would even call me that early. I cherished it. This morning waking up was different, though, because I didn’t feel any older or that any miraculous changes had occurred overnight. My husband by my side and my son in his room, life is pretty grand. I can’t wait for the mornings when we have a slew of kiddos running around the house, jumping on the bed singing, “Happy birthday, Mama!” while my husband is making me breakfast in bed. (Okay, that last part is a stretch!)
Twenty-five was a really BIG year for me, in a lot of respects. Brent and I officially moved in together. Then we got engaged. Then we celebrated our first Christmas as a family, our first Christmas when LB will likely remember Santa. We got married. My headaches got worse. I was diagnosed with IH. I had major brain surgery, and then two more revisions. We realized we were struggling with infertility. LB had eye surgery again. But throughout all of it we made it, and that is what is most important. We have grown and learned so much during this past year that I can’t help but be anything but grateful for this blessed life I’m living.
Today, I turned twenty-six years old. My great-grandmother had my grandmother at 25; my grandmother had my mom at 25 and my mom had me at 25. For as long as I can remember, I was “supposed” to have my first child at 25, too. Obviously that didn’t happen, and before I met Brent I was okay with that – there was no rush! It’s not until you want to have that child that you feel the rush. I feel like I missed the mark. Like I let down the tradition. In a way, I did “have” LB when I was 25, so I guess that is the balance. There’s always got to be balance, right?
So maybe 26 will be my year. It can only get bigger and better from here. :-) A huge thank you to all of my sweet friends and family who have taken time out of their day today to wish me a happy birthday. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you.
Love, KC
Aug 24, 2010
What if There Was More?
When you’re in tune with your body you tend to just “know” when something is amiss, even if you can’t get your doctors to believe you. Of all the years I suffered with migraines somehow I just knew it was more. As if the fact that no migraine medications that I was prescribed did anything for the pain was not enough proof, I had a gut instinct that there was more going on than anyone realized. At the same time I knew in my heart that it wasn’t life threatening – no tumors, cancer or aneurisms – I was just off.
When I finally found the Intracranial Hypertension Research Foundation it was as if my whole world had been changed. I cried for everything, out of happiness, relief, frustration and pure terror. Before I ever had an affirmative diagnosis I knew in my heart that IIH was the cause of my pain and that meant that I had a rare brain disease – but it wouldn’t kill me. Suddenly I was filled with hope like I’d never had before. Standard courses of treatment failed and so I was to have brain surgery. Brain surgery. It was the best thing I could have ever done for my health. Hope for brain surgery? Abso-freakin’-lutely. Never in my life have I felt more human or alive than I do now, and getting better every single day. That’s a blessing.
A woman who I have never actually met but have come to admire greatly recently mentioned on Facebook that she thought she had found a cause of IIH. While I skimmed the post I didn’t have time to pay much attention until Monday. What she had found was Hughes Syndrome and for the second time in a year I felt an A-HA! moment come on. While reading through the official site I started getting jittery, and well, excited. Excited for another problem? Yes!! Why? Because I didn’t ask for these issues. My only guess is that God felt I could make some good come of the situation, help champion a cause, something He thought I could make of this.
Hughes Syndrome is akin to having “sticky” blood. People with Hughes tend to form clots at a much higher rate than your average individual, resulting in an increased risk of stroke and heart attack, among other things. What’s more is that it can also cause headaches and/or migraines AND pregnancy problems. Understanding my A-HA! moment yet? Even with my shunt I am still having headaches but they’re not pressure headaches, occurring at least every other day. Obviously I’ve had fertility issues that we are still finding the cause of. But what stuck out to me was the presence of a skin condition called livedo reticularis. When I saw the picture, I laughed. Out loud. At my desk. I’m sure my coworkers thought I was crazy.
For as long as I can remember I have been pale as a ghost. My skin tans in the summer only to the color of a normal person’s “white”. As pale as I am though I am also very pink. Around the age of ten – about the same time I started really noticing my headaches – I developed what my mom thought was a rash on the inside of my legs and forearms. We had recently gotten a kitten and the doctor told my mom that I had ringworm, and to put an anti-fungal cream on me when it flared up. That was over 15 years ago and I gave up on the cream almost immediately because it did nothing.
During the winter the “rash” always got worse, making me look like my capillaries had all come to the top of the skin in a webbed pattern, especially if I’d spent a lot of time outside. As an adult I still have the issue and I know that it wasn’t caused by any pets. My laughter outburst? Caused by this photograph.
Why laughter? Because that is EXACTLY what my skin looks like. To a tee. Epiphany? I think so. So what’s the good news? It’s that the condition can be diagnosed with a simple blood test, and depending on the severity it can be treated with as little as one baby aspirin daily. That’s it. So for the last 15 years or so one little, bitty baby aspirin could have kept me headache-free. While not proven, it is a likely theory. I am giddy with excitement of having the test done to see if it’s true.
To top it off? While researching Hughes there was a possibly related article titled, “Can a baby aspirin help you conceive?” Again, not a proven theory but a possibility and at this point, we will try anything.
Fifteen years. The thought upsets me, the things I may have missed and the years I spent needlessly suffering – a fact for which I am eternally grateful because without the hardships I wouldn’t be nearly as strong as I am today.
Love, KC
When I finally found the Intracranial Hypertension Research Foundation it was as if my whole world had been changed. I cried for everything, out of happiness, relief, frustration and pure terror. Before I ever had an affirmative diagnosis I knew in my heart that IIH was the cause of my pain and that meant that I had a rare brain disease – but it wouldn’t kill me. Suddenly I was filled with hope like I’d never had before. Standard courses of treatment failed and so I was to have brain surgery. Brain surgery. It was the best thing I could have ever done for my health. Hope for brain surgery? Abso-freakin’-lutely. Never in my life have I felt more human or alive than I do now, and getting better every single day. That’s a blessing.
A woman who I have never actually met but have come to admire greatly recently mentioned on Facebook that she thought she had found a cause of IIH. While I skimmed the post I didn’t have time to pay much attention until Monday. What she had found was Hughes Syndrome and for the second time in a year I felt an A-HA! moment come on. While reading through the official site I started getting jittery, and well, excited. Excited for another problem? Yes!! Why? Because I didn’t ask for these issues. My only guess is that God felt I could make some good come of the situation, help champion a cause, something He thought I could make of this.
Hughes Syndrome is akin to having “sticky” blood. People with Hughes tend to form clots at a much higher rate than your average individual, resulting in an increased risk of stroke and heart attack, among other things. What’s more is that it can also cause headaches and/or migraines AND pregnancy problems. Understanding my A-HA! moment yet? Even with my shunt I am still having headaches but they’re not pressure headaches, occurring at least every other day. Obviously I’ve had fertility issues that we are still finding the cause of. But what stuck out to me was the presence of a skin condition called livedo reticularis. When I saw the picture, I laughed. Out loud. At my desk. I’m sure my coworkers thought I was crazy.
For as long as I can remember I have been pale as a ghost. My skin tans in the summer only to the color of a normal person’s “white”. As pale as I am though I am also very pink. Around the age of ten – about the same time I started really noticing my headaches – I developed what my mom thought was a rash on the inside of my legs and forearms. We had recently gotten a kitten and the doctor told my mom that I had ringworm, and to put an anti-fungal cream on me when it flared up. That was over 15 years ago and I gave up on the cream almost immediately because it did nothing.
During the winter the “rash” always got worse, making me look like my capillaries had all come to the top of the skin in a webbed pattern, especially if I’d spent a lot of time outside. As an adult I still have the issue and I know that it wasn’t caused by any pets. My laughter outburst? Caused by this photograph.
Why laughter? Because that is EXACTLY what my skin looks like. To a tee. Epiphany? I think so. So what’s the good news? It’s that the condition can be diagnosed with a simple blood test, and depending on the severity it can be treated with as little as one baby aspirin daily. That’s it. So for the last 15 years or so one little, bitty baby aspirin could have kept me headache-free. While not proven, it is a likely theory. I am giddy with excitement of having the test done to see if it’s true.
To top it off? While researching Hughes there was a possibly related article titled, “Can a baby aspirin help you conceive?” Again, not a proven theory but a possibility and at this point, we will try anything.
Fifteen years. The thought upsets me, the things I may have missed and the years I spent needlessly suffering – a fact for which I am eternally grateful because without the hardships I wouldn’t be nearly as strong as I am today.
Love, KC
Aug 20, 2010
It's Been a Year . . .
It is coming up on the one year anniversary of this little blog, and it’s been neglected I’m afraid.
When I first set it up the intent was to document our journey to babies and we certainly never thought that a year later we’d still be trying. Somehow I imagined that it would happen immediately and I guess you could say that it was that idea that terrified me the most. You decide to have children and expect it to happen right away and when it doesn’t you suffer from a various mix of emotions. For us now it has only further confirmed how ready we are to have more children and make LB a big brother.
Looking back on the situation I can only surmise that God had a plan and as always, knew much better than the two of us did! Who would have thought that I would get so sick with my headaches, find out I had a rare brain disease and have three major brain surgeries – all in a matter of six months? There is absolutely no way my body could have handled a pregnancy before.
We first started trying to conceive at the end of August, and I quit taking not only my birth control pills but also all of my migraine medications and anti-convulsants. It was the first time in over three years that I had been un-medicated for my headaches and at the time I thought I was doing really well. The headaches didn’t seem to be too severe in nature and were only coming a couple times a week at first, and not so badly that a Darvocet couldn’t rid me of the pain. However, the closer we got to year-end the worse things got. Then, on January 3rd I had the worst attack yet that sent the diagnosis-ball rolling.
My original neurologist had me checked for aneurisms and the like only to find nothing. All he wanted to do was continue to medicate me even though the migraines were getting worse and none of the other dozen or so medications he’d tried had worked. In the meantime I did my own research and came across a site for pseudotumor cerebri, or idiopathic intracranial hypertension. When I presented my findings to the neurologist he basically told me I was crazy and threatened me so I found another doctor – my champion, Dr. Herzog. Within five minutes he was in 100% agreement that I needed to be tested for PTC; within a month I was diagnosed and having brain surgery a little more than a month later.
Today I am about four months post-op from the original surgery, and almost two months from my last revision. I haven’t felt this great in many, many years. When I have headaches they are minor and mostly weather related I think. No pressure headaches! However from the final surgery I had been having a lot of abdominal pain as a result of the placement of my shunt catheter so as a precaution I visited a new high-risk OB/GYN to ensure there were no issues. While there I mentioned to her that I had been trying to conceive for about a year with no success and she suggested that I have my progesterone levels checked. As it turns out, they are rather low and most likely the cause of my infertility. For the next couple of months I will have to have it checked to see if it is constant and if it is, what steps we will take.
Going into the diagnosis of PTC I knew that infertility could be an issue. Several of the women who are diagnosed also have PCOS or other symptoms of infertility. It’s wonderful to know that you are not alone in this journey and also to see that there is hope – a lady in our group recently had her first child despite it all. While I know there could be potential complications I am willing to learn as much as I can to avoid them. The only bummer I have experienced is that my doctor all but dashed my hopes of a natural homebirth, saying it is just too risky. I do tend to agree with her, so I think I will focus my sights on a birthing center where I can still be free to roam. One step at a time though.
As much as I promise, I really do need to keep this blog updated. There are so many things I want to share and just don’t make the time. LB is growing so fast and becoming a little man, there are a ton of recipes I’ve been dying to share, and we have expanded our four-legged brood with a kitten. All in due time . . .
Until then,
KC
When I first set it up the intent was to document our journey to babies and we certainly never thought that a year later we’d still be trying. Somehow I imagined that it would happen immediately and I guess you could say that it was that idea that terrified me the most. You decide to have children and expect it to happen right away and when it doesn’t you suffer from a various mix of emotions. For us now it has only further confirmed how ready we are to have more children and make LB a big brother.
Looking back on the situation I can only surmise that God had a plan and as always, knew much better than the two of us did! Who would have thought that I would get so sick with my headaches, find out I had a rare brain disease and have three major brain surgeries – all in a matter of six months? There is absolutely no way my body could have handled a pregnancy before.
We first started trying to conceive at the end of August, and I quit taking not only my birth control pills but also all of my migraine medications and anti-convulsants. It was the first time in over three years that I had been un-medicated for my headaches and at the time I thought I was doing really well. The headaches didn’t seem to be too severe in nature and were only coming a couple times a week at first, and not so badly that a Darvocet couldn’t rid me of the pain. However, the closer we got to year-end the worse things got. Then, on January 3rd I had the worst attack yet that sent the diagnosis-ball rolling.
My original neurologist had me checked for aneurisms and the like only to find nothing. All he wanted to do was continue to medicate me even though the migraines were getting worse and none of the other dozen or so medications he’d tried had worked. In the meantime I did my own research and came across a site for pseudotumor cerebri, or idiopathic intracranial hypertension. When I presented my findings to the neurologist he basically told me I was crazy and threatened me so I found another doctor – my champion, Dr. Herzog. Within five minutes he was in 100% agreement that I needed to be tested for PTC; within a month I was diagnosed and having brain surgery a little more than a month later.
Today I am about four months post-op from the original surgery, and almost two months from my last revision. I haven’t felt this great in many, many years. When I have headaches they are minor and mostly weather related I think. No pressure headaches! However from the final surgery I had been having a lot of abdominal pain as a result of the placement of my shunt catheter so as a precaution I visited a new high-risk OB/GYN to ensure there were no issues. While there I mentioned to her that I had been trying to conceive for about a year with no success and she suggested that I have my progesterone levels checked. As it turns out, they are rather low and most likely the cause of my infertility. For the next couple of months I will have to have it checked to see if it is constant and if it is, what steps we will take.
Going into the diagnosis of PTC I knew that infertility could be an issue. Several of the women who are diagnosed also have PCOS or other symptoms of infertility. It’s wonderful to know that you are not alone in this journey and also to see that there is hope – a lady in our group recently had her first child despite it all. While I know there could be potential complications I am willing to learn as much as I can to avoid them. The only bummer I have experienced is that my doctor all but dashed my hopes of a natural homebirth, saying it is just too risky. I do tend to agree with her, so I think I will focus my sights on a birthing center where I can still be free to roam. One step at a time though.
As much as I promise, I really do need to keep this blog updated. There are so many things I want to share and just don’t make the time. LB is growing so fast and becoming a little man, there are a ton of recipes I’ve been dying to share, and we have expanded our four-legged brood with a kitten. All in due time . . .
Until then,
KC
Jul 1, 2010
Brain Surgery, Part III
It’s all over, finally. At least I hope it is. Two days ago I had my third and final surgery for the VP shunt, the second revision in 10 weeks. Of all three surgeries this was by far the easiest, but I just feel beat up and tired.
When I went in for my pre-admit Tuesday morning, my oxygen levels were at 94% just as Dr. Taylor said they would be; so long as I had that catheter behind my lung I would never get above 95%. Brent and I settled in and just relaxed while I waited for my turn in the operating room, it was just the two of us and I enjoyed it that way. He had to go to work while I was in surgery but I knew he’d be back when I got out and it relieved me of the obligations of having to entertain anyone but myself when it was over.
My favorite anesthesiologist Dr. Flewellen was back this time and he was just the sweetest thing. Once he got my IV going we headed back to the OR. That is probably one of the longest rides, from pre-op to the trauma hall. It was a dreary and rainy morning but that operating room was still bright and cheery with him there. I’ve become way too familiar with the surroundings of that room and I almost wish I could wear my glasses in so that I could see better, see all of the high-tech equipment they use and not just the shadows. Dr. Flewellen wasn’t pleased with how my IV was going so he promised that once I was out he would move it so that I wouldn’t be in any discomfort. He gave me oxygen and the nastiest laughing gas and it took me a while to finally fall asleep.
When I woke up from surgery I was sore but not in pain. I could breathe! My oxygen levels were back to 100% as soon as I woke up. All I wanted was water and my glasses but couldn’t have either. The entire surgery took just about an hour and I was up and alert within half an hour of arriving in recovery. They allowed me to call Brent and tell him I was fine, and that I wanted a large sweet tea and my glasses as soon as he could get there. Apparently I mis-communicated to the nurses and they never called him to come, so when I arrived in my room a little after noon I was all alone. Thankfully I knew his work number so I called him then and decided to take a nap with my friend Morphine until Brent arrived a couple hours later.
Every hour I was up. There was no rest for the weary! The new catheter is placed down low in my pelvis, behind my bladder – which means that all that excess spinal fluid is gathering and putting pressure down there. It felt like a strange combination of menstrual cramps and a bladder infection. I can only imagine what will happen when I get pregnant; I can see myself having to pee every five minutes at this rate! Time passed slowly while I read a book, watched some television and played on the computer. My dear friend Rosie came and saw me for a couple of hours which really just made my night. I miss her!
It wasn’t until 3:30am Wednesday morning that I finally fell asleep. I suppose all the painkillers had the opposite effect on me that I wanted them to. And of course, an hour later I need blood drawn and vitals taken so I was awake until 5:15am that time. All I really wanted was to come home and rest in my own bed. Dr. Taylor and Dr. Coimbra said I did amazing and agreed I could go home so I left there at noon. Brent and I came home and enjoyed a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon and I slept like a rock. However the longer the night progressed, the more discomfort I found myself in so ice packs became my new best friend.
It has now been just over 48 hours since my surgery and I feel a lot better. Something interesting I learned while there: I bring a new meaning to “sleeping like death”, because when I’m asleep my heart rate is around 28 beats per minute. It also makes my blood pressure extremely low to the point that I scare the techs and they feel the necessity to call in the nurse. This has happened all three times I’ve had surgery now and I keep telling them it’s normal. It also seems to explain my craving for salt; my blood pressure drops and the salt helps it rise, so despite the fact that I eat way too much salt for a normal person my blood pressure stays around 112/65 when I’m active. Also, I am borderline hypoglycemic so if I haven’t eaten and am active, I shake like a leaf until I get some food. All things I knew but I find it funny to freak out the nursing staff.
Over the next few days I plan on staying in bed, reading a few good books and wasting my time on the internet. I do have grand ambitions for next week though, including making an apron, pies and spending time with my main little man LB who will be back on Monday. I’ve fancied including spots in this blog for the things I love like cooking, so maybe I’ll work on that. Dr. Taylor warned me to take it easy, as he wouldn’t have the time to see me this weekend as he was going to the fixing the idiots who mishandled fireworks (sounds just like a trauma surgeon, huh?)
To my dear friends who offered their prayers for my niece: she was buried today at 10am surrounded by hundreds of family and friends. I wish I could have attended but it would have been too stressful on my body. My memories with her will always be cherished even though they are few. My family and I appreciate all of your kind words.
Sorry for the ramblings; you can blame the Darvocet.
Love, KC
When I went in for my pre-admit Tuesday morning, my oxygen levels were at 94% just as Dr. Taylor said they would be; so long as I had that catheter behind my lung I would never get above 95%. Brent and I settled in and just relaxed while I waited for my turn in the operating room, it was just the two of us and I enjoyed it that way. He had to go to work while I was in surgery but I knew he’d be back when I got out and it relieved me of the obligations of having to entertain anyone but myself when it was over.
My favorite anesthesiologist Dr. Flewellen was back this time and he was just the sweetest thing. Once he got my IV going we headed back to the OR. That is probably one of the longest rides, from pre-op to the trauma hall. It was a dreary and rainy morning but that operating room was still bright and cheery with him there. I’ve become way too familiar with the surroundings of that room and I almost wish I could wear my glasses in so that I could see better, see all of the high-tech equipment they use and not just the shadows. Dr. Flewellen wasn’t pleased with how my IV was going so he promised that once I was out he would move it so that I wouldn’t be in any discomfort. He gave me oxygen and the nastiest laughing gas and it took me a while to finally fall asleep.
When I woke up from surgery I was sore but not in pain. I could breathe! My oxygen levels were back to 100% as soon as I woke up. All I wanted was water and my glasses but couldn’t have either. The entire surgery took just about an hour and I was up and alert within half an hour of arriving in recovery. They allowed me to call Brent and tell him I was fine, and that I wanted a large sweet tea and my glasses as soon as he could get there. Apparently I mis-communicated to the nurses and they never called him to come, so when I arrived in my room a little after noon I was all alone. Thankfully I knew his work number so I called him then and decided to take a nap with my friend Morphine until Brent arrived a couple hours later.
Every hour I was up. There was no rest for the weary! The new catheter is placed down low in my pelvis, behind my bladder – which means that all that excess spinal fluid is gathering and putting pressure down there. It felt like a strange combination of menstrual cramps and a bladder infection. I can only imagine what will happen when I get pregnant; I can see myself having to pee every five minutes at this rate! Time passed slowly while I read a book, watched some television and played on the computer. My dear friend Rosie came and saw me for a couple of hours which really just made my night. I miss her!
It wasn’t until 3:30am Wednesday morning that I finally fell asleep. I suppose all the painkillers had the opposite effect on me that I wanted them to. And of course, an hour later I need blood drawn and vitals taken so I was awake until 5:15am that time. All I really wanted was to come home and rest in my own bed. Dr. Taylor and Dr. Coimbra said I did amazing and agreed I could go home so I left there at noon. Brent and I came home and enjoyed a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon and I slept like a rock. However the longer the night progressed, the more discomfort I found myself in so ice packs became my new best friend.
It has now been just over 48 hours since my surgery and I feel a lot better. Something interesting I learned while there: I bring a new meaning to “sleeping like death”, because when I’m asleep my heart rate is around 28 beats per minute. It also makes my blood pressure extremely low to the point that I scare the techs and they feel the necessity to call in the nurse. This has happened all three times I’ve had surgery now and I keep telling them it’s normal. It also seems to explain my craving for salt; my blood pressure drops and the salt helps it rise, so despite the fact that I eat way too much salt for a normal person my blood pressure stays around 112/65 when I’m active. Also, I am borderline hypoglycemic so if I haven’t eaten and am active, I shake like a leaf until I get some food. All things I knew but I find it funny to freak out the nursing staff.
Over the next few days I plan on staying in bed, reading a few good books and wasting my time on the internet. I do have grand ambitions for next week though, including making an apron, pies and spending time with my main little man LB who will be back on Monday. I’ve fancied including spots in this blog for the things I love like cooking, so maybe I’ll work on that. Dr. Taylor warned me to take it easy, as he wouldn’t have the time to see me this weekend as he was going to the fixing the idiots who mishandled fireworks (sounds just like a trauma surgeon, huh?)
To my dear friends who offered their prayers for my niece: she was buried today at 10am surrounded by hundreds of family and friends. I wish I could have attended but it would have been too stressful on my body. My memories with her will always be cherished even though they are few. My family and I appreciate all of your kind words.
Sorry for the ramblings; you can blame the Darvocet.
Love, KC
Dec 2, 2009
Starting Over
The Thanksgiving holiday passed without a hitch. We managed to spend the morning with my dad, the mid-day with my mom's side of the family, and the evening with Brent's family. All in all I'd say it was a great day. Actually, we both remarked how it was neat to experience the different traditions from where we were raised: my family's obviously more Southern atmosphere as opposed to his family's more North-Central home. Regardless, the food was great and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We were sad that LB was not here, but he seemed to have a good time with his mom eating "chicken". LOL
We put up the Christmas tree the Friday before Thanksgiving, as well as the lights. I'll try to post pictures after while.
And finally, another month has passed with no baby. It's getting easier to take, though no less disappointing. So we are starting over this month, with three left to go, and hoping that one of these takes.
Love, KC
We put up the Christmas tree the Friday before Thanksgiving, as well as the lights. I'll try to post pictures after while.
And finally, another month has passed with no baby. It's getting easier to take, though no less disappointing. So we are starting over this month, with three left to go, and hoping that one of these takes.
Love, KC
Nov 20, 2009
What's in a Name?
I just have to put this out there, as it's a common issue that we as parents struggle with when having a child - the acceptance of the name.
Someone in the department right next to me had a new grandbaby born overnight. She is sorely disappointed that they named the baby Gunner (not Gunther), and is lamenting this to all of the women in her area - all of which are over 50. She doesn't understand why these college educated professionals would name their child something like that, even though it's been picked out for quite some time, and why they couldn't choose a simple name like James and call him Jimmy.
Obviously, that name appeals to them and what right do you have to try and influence the naming of their child?! I fear this will come up when Brent and I have children, especially with the girls names we've picked out. But you know what? We love the names and that is all that matters. Here's to hoping that our mothers and grandmothers can keep their opinions to themselves, if they're negative.
Love, KC
Someone in the department right next to me had a new grandbaby born overnight. She is sorely disappointed that they named the baby Gunner (not Gunther), and is lamenting this to all of the women in her area - all of which are over 50. She doesn't understand why these college educated professionals would name their child something like that, even though it's been picked out for quite some time, and why they couldn't choose a simple name like James and call him Jimmy.
Obviously, that name appeals to them and what right do you have to try and influence the naming of their child?! I fear this will come up when Brent and I have children, especially with the girls names we've picked out. But you know what? We love the names and that is all that matters. Here's to hoping that our mothers and grandmothers can keep their opinions to themselves, if they're negative.
Love, KC
Nov 19, 2009
From the Beginning . . .
We met on eHarmony, and no I’m not in any way ashamed to admit that. I will admit that I initially signed up for two reasons: boredom being number one, but number two being that I was hoping to meet a different caliber of men than I’d been spending the majority of my time with. I had set standards: at least 27 years old, at least 6’ tall, and NO kids. I did not want the baggage that came along with a possible ex-wife/ex-girlfriend and Lord knows I get attached to kiddos way too easily. So if anyone came along that did not meet my criteria, I immediately closed the match, regardless of what their profile said. That was until January 3, 2009, when I was matched with him. Honestly, I intended to close him. I really did. But I kept going back to this picture.
This picture was the first thing I saw when I opened his profile, and I couldn’t help but smile. There is something about it that just showed immense joy and love from this man and his son and even though he failed all of my demands, I couldn’t close him out. So I waited for three days, and sent my first round of questions. And to this day, I feel like I lost three days with him somewhere in there.
Those eHarmony commercials, as corny as they are, are real. From my experience I truly believe that. I was on that site for less than a week when we were matched, and we could both swear to you that we were destined to be together. We ARE that corny couple and we proudly wear that badge. Through an unfortunate set of circumstances - my having severe pneumonia and him having the flu - we were able to spend over two weeks just talking to one another. And talk we did! I’ve never talked to someone so much, and we still don’t shut up (just ask our families). This, I believe, helped to build the strong foundation of our relationship, how openly and honestly we communicate with each other about everything.
I remember one night, probably during week two, he asked me to marry him four times in one conversation. All over food, I do believe (which I still contend is a primary reason he’s marrying me). I don’t think there was ever a doubt in either of our minds even at that point where this was headed. But amongst our earliest of conversations were children. Did I mind that he had a child? What were his thoughts on more children? In no time we were pretty set on 3-5 kids, and I was excitedly freaked out about LB. How, in such short order, had I found my other half – and a baby?
What I’d written above was supposed to be my introductory blog. The entire purpose of setting up the blog in the first place was to capture our journey of making our family. I’m not sure why I never finished it or much less posted it, but I found it today and wanted to try and finish it. It was originally started on 6/11/09, just over five months ago. Not much has changed, and at the same time so much HAS changed.
We still don’t shut up. Every opportunity we have to talk to one another we greedily seize and try to cram as much into that two or three minutes that we can. It’s increasingly difficult since Brent was promoted to store director in September, but we do the best we can.
We are more madly in love with one another than we were yesterday, or the day before. Every day our love grows in such a manner that it leaves me speechless, incredibly blessed and anxious for more. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it was possible to love someone so completely, for everything that they are and everything that they’re not. It’s hard to express this in a way that can wholly encompass those emotions, so instead we mainly smile at one another with a knowing that we wish others could experience.
Our wedding is in 60 days, one year to the day of our first date, and we have done nothing to prepare other than toss around a few things we’d like to do. We have no intention of having anything that really resembles a wedding, actually. All that we need is a minister, LB, our parents and his siblings, and my best friend. That is eleven people, and I’d be perfectly happy having it in someone’s living room. While there are no immediate plans for a honeymoon (thanks to my job) we will definitely spend a week doing something during the summer.
Lastly, our three-year baby plan went out the window within three weeks in our new house. We’ve been trying to conceive since then, with no luck yet, and trying to not be discouraged. I fully realize these things take time and therefore I’m just not going to worry about it anymore. Both of us will be utterly delighted to have a baby when the time comes, but for now we do good just to keep ourselves from going insane.
As with every couple, we sometimes have issues. While I’m a complete neat freak and like things to be extra organized, he is my polar opposite and that can sometimes create frustration on my part. For the most part, the fact that he has ADD never occurs to me except when he can’t complete a task, and I have to remind myself that I’ve never been in his shoes and not everyone is as anal retentive as I am about all of the lights being off in the house before you leave.
As you’ve read, LB is growing bigger every time we see him. He was only 23 months old when we started dating, tiny as could be and precious. Now he’s going to be three in a couple of months and he’s a different kid. The terrible twos have been rough but we’ve survived with our humor intact, mostly because of the insanely cute things he does. I asked him the last time he was here if he wanted a little sister, to which I got a “NO!!”, while Daddy asked if he wanted a brother and he said, “YES!!” I’m hoping he warms to the idea; I think he’ll be a great big brother.
Thankfully I had the foresight to pull off mine and Brent’s entire email communication from our first week of “talking” before my membership to eHarmony expired. To go back and read them now is so funny, and remarkably true to how we are. Hopefully I can put them in our scrapbook.
Until next time. . .
Love, KC
Nov 18, 2009
Cheers!
Whew. I guess I never fully realized how consumed I was with the baby-making process until I backed off from it. After another month of no baby, I decided at the first of November to just not think about it anymore. I had been enthralled with anything regarding babies, conceiving, tracking, you name it. It was really taking a toll on me, why I couldn't conceive immediately and what was I doing wrong?! Not ONCE since the beginning of the month have I looked at a blog, an app, or anything regarding pregnancy. And you know what? It feels GOOD. I'm not honestly sure when I had my last period, when I could have conceived or when the next one is due. It's as if the greatest weight has been lifted from my shoulders and that is exactly what I needed.
Initially I think Brent thought this was my way of saying I didn't want a baby right now, and it took a day of bickering to get him to fully understand my reasoning. Absolutely I want a baby, and due to my job restrictions we can try until February and then we'll have to take about three months off and pick up in May/June. I fully believe that God will not give you more than you can handle and He will decide when the time is right, so obviously the timing hasn't been right thus far and we must just be way too busy to handle a baby. That's what I choose to believe, and it has nothing to do with my want for a child. By letting go of the process in my mind and letting nature take it's course, I'm less stressed and happier, and that is the precise medicine I needed. Although we said from the beginning that we were "going to try, but not try", we've been "trying" this whole time. It's draining.
So I'm quite proud of myself. I've been focusing on work and family and rearranging my entire house for the Christmas tree. It is truly my favorite time of year, and when I put up my Christmas tree this weekend I'm going to whip out my customary bottle of pink champagne and enjoy it, because my body deserves to let loose and do what it needs to do.
Cheers to the holidays and lots of fun baby making!
Love, KC
Initially I think Brent thought this was my way of saying I didn't want a baby right now, and it took a day of bickering to get him to fully understand my reasoning. Absolutely I want a baby, and due to my job restrictions we can try until February and then we'll have to take about three months off and pick up in May/June. I fully believe that God will not give you more than you can handle and He will decide when the time is right, so obviously the timing hasn't been right thus far and we must just be way too busy to handle a baby. That's what I choose to believe, and it has nothing to do with my want for a child. By letting go of the process in my mind and letting nature take it's course, I'm less stressed and happier, and that is the precise medicine I needed. Although we said from the beginning that we were "going to try, but not try", we've been "trying" this whole time. It's draining.
So I'm quite proud of myself. I've been focusing on work and family and rearranging my entire house for the Christmas tree. It is truly my favorite time of year, and when I put up my Christmas tree this weekend I'm going to whip out my customary bottle of pink champagne and enjoy it, because my body deserves to let loose and do what it needs to do.
Cheers to the holidays and lots of fun baby making!
Love, KC
Oct 29, 2009
The Unbearable Wait . . .
You'd think being in our third month of "trying to conceive" I'd be getting used to the waiting game. I'm not. Moreover, Brent is almost more impatient about the matter than I am.
Never in a million years when we decided to have a baby did I think it would take three months, or more. We both thought it would happen immediately. I guess at some point everyone who begins this journey feels that way, and I'm now part of that exclusive club if you will. I've become borderline obsessed with everything I can find online to help with this process, which ultimately is most likely just stressing me out more. LOL
Oh well, just needed to vent for a moment. Monday November 2nd is the magic day this month, and I think Brent has a mental calendar going - at least, he asks just about every day.
Hoping this is our month . . .
Love, KC
Never in a million years when we decided to have a baby did I think it would take three months, or more. We both thought it would happen immediately. I guess at some point everyone who begins this journey feels that way, and I'm now part of that exclusive club if you will. I've become borderline obsessed with everything I can find online to help with this process, which ultimately is most likely just stressing me out more. LOL
Oh well, just needed to vent for a moment. Monday November 2nd is the magic day this month, and I think Brent has a mental calendar going - at least, he asks just about every day.
Hoping this is our month . . .
Love, KC
Oct 16, 2009
The Decision to Go Natural
When most women of today decide that they want to have a child, at least in my experience, almost the first thing you hear is, “Bring on the drugs!” It’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world to have an epidural and not be able to feel the pain of your child coming into the world. Ever since I really decided to have a baby the idea of being drugged up just scares me.
Let me preface this by saying – I know you all think I’m a wimp. And sure, maybe I was as a child, but the older I’ve gotten the tougher I’ve become both mentally and physically. It’s been a long progression and maybe not always a great one, but somehow I believe it was to lead me to this point. Hell, I have eleven tattoos; surely I can handle almost anything, right? I chose to endure that pain for a beautiful result, and while childbirth is no doubt that pain times one hundred, it’s also for a beautiful result.
Making the decision to have a natural childbirth was, like most things in my life this year, not really a decision at all. I’m not quite sure when it first began, but I do know that reading Pacing the Panic Room helped to solidify the decision, as well as lead me to a multitude of great resources. Brent is firmly against a home birth at this point, and I don’t have my mind really made up, but I’m hoping that watching The Business of Being Born will help us both.
What I do know for certain is that I don’t want an epidural or a hospital for that matter unless medically necessary. After my recent experience with the OB, I think that I would feel much more comfortable with a Certified Nurse Midwife. I want to be able to labor at my pace, in a calm and comfortable environment when the baby is ready and not be induced because my doctor has a golf game at 11am. I don’t want to be hooked up to IVs and have a monitor screwed into my child’s head in utero.
Crazy? Maybe to some. But a growing number of women are going back to the way God intended it. Natural. So that’s my goal. It won’t be an easy journey, this much I know for sure, but I am so very confident in my choice and know that it will be what’s best for my baby. Fortunately there are so many resources available in my area, and I’ve already scoped out a birthing center near my home.
For me this year has been about the happiest time of my life, learning and trusting and coming to terms with a faith I don’t really think I ever possessed before. God will only give me as much as I can handle, so I will leave it up to Him. Maybe that’s why we’re not pregnant yet. There’s been so much going on that we really haven’t had the time – at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
We’re ready now, God. Ready when you are.
Love, Us
Let me preface this by saying – I know you all think I’m a wimp. And sure, maybe I was as a child, but the older I’ve gotten the tougher I’ve become both mentally and physically. It’s been a long progression and maybe not always a great one, but somehow I believe it was to lead me to this point. Hell, I have eleven tattoos; surely I can handle almost anything, right? I chose to endure that pain for a beautiful result, and while childbirth is no doubt that pain times one hundred, it’s also for a beautiful result.
Making the decision to have a natural childbirth was, like most things in my life this year, not really a decision at all. I’m not quite sure when it first began, but I do know that reading Pacing the Panic Room helped to solidify the decision, as well as lead me to a multitude of great resources. Brent is firmly against a home birth at this point, and I don’t have my mind really made up, but I’m hoping that watching The Business of Being Born will help us both.
What I do know for certain is that I don’t want an epidural or a hospital for that matter unless medically necessary. After my recent experience with the OB, I think that I would feel much more comfortable with a Certified Nurse Midwife. I want to be able to labor at my pace, in a calm and comfortable environment when the baby is ready and not be induced because my doctor has a golf game at 11am. I don’t want to be hooked up to IVs and have a monitor screwed into my child’s head in utero.
Crazy? Maybe to some. But a growing number of women are going back to the way God intended it. Natural. So that’s my goal. It won’t be an easy journey, this much I know for sure, but I am so very confident in my choice and know that it will be what’s best for my baby. Fortunately there are so many resources available in my area, and I’ve already scoped out a birthing center near my home.
For me this year has been about the happiest time of my life, learning and trusting and coming to terms with a faith I don’t really think I ever possessed before. God will only give me as much as I can handle, so I will leave it up to Him. Maybe that’s why we’re not pregnant yet. There’s been so much going on that we really haven’t had the time – at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
We’re ready now, God. Ready when you are.
Love, Us
Sep 18, 2009
Deflation
When we decided to board this baby train, we thought it’d be so very easy. Lord knows, if we could have wished ourselves pregnant it would have happened a hundred times over in the first couple of days. But, we did our best to be patient and silently prayed that we were one of the lucky few that struck gold on the first try. Amidst this all we could talk about were babies . . . names, furniture, toys, discipline, the works. You get yourself so hyped up that when you find out you missed the mark, your world suddenly deflates like a balloon.
For those of us who have never had (diagnosed) fertility problems, pregnancy is thought to be easy. Have sex for a few days before you ovulate and PRESTO! BABY! As nervous as I was at first I was finally ready for this to happen, and so I was utterly disappointed when I realized I was getting my period. Brent has been convinced since about a week into this process that I was pregnant. All of the signs were there and you could just feel the excited energy in our house. Then, on Saturday night, I noticed what I thought was spotting. It was very, very light and I knew it was one of two things. Since my period always starts first thing in the morning I hoped-Hoped-HOPED it was a sign and went to bed giddy as a school girl.
Waking up Sunday morning I was crushed. I spent the morning so very sick with my trashcan in my lap that I held onto a string of hope I could still be pregnant. It became abundantly clear though as the day wore on that I was not. So on Monday I decided to go to the doctor and make sure everything was normal by comparison and sure enough, it was. I could tell I was ovulating out of my right ovary just by looking, and since that is where most of my discomfort comes from every month. And, as it turns out, withdrawal from my migraine meds is what caused the pseudo-pregnancy symptoms. I told him we wouldn’t be back until I had good news.
As sad as I was, I think maybe Brent was a little more distraught. My heart hurt for him almost worse than for myself, especially when a couple of days later he said, “I’m just ready. Ready to be married and ready to have lots of babies.”
I’m ready too.
For those of us who have never had (diagnosed) fertility problems, pregnancy is thought to be easy. Have sex for a few days before you ovulate and PRESTO! BABY! As nervous as I was at first I was finally ready for this to happen, and so I was utterly disappointed when I realized I was getting my period. Brent has been convinced since about a week into this process that I was pregnant. All of the signs were there and you could just feel the excited energy in our house. Then, on Saturday night, I noticed what I thought was spotting. It was very, very light and I knew it was one of two things. Since my period always starts first thing in the morning I hoped-Hoped-HOPED it was a sign and went to bed giddy as a school girl.
Waking up Sunday morning I was crushed. I spent the morning so very sick with my trashcan in my lap that I held onto a string of hope I could still be pregnant. It became abundantly clear though as the day wore on that I was not. So on Monday I decided to go to the doctor and make sure everything was normal by comparison and sure enough, it was. I could tell I was ovulating out of my right ovary just by looking, and since that is where most of my discomfort comes from every month. And, as it turns out, withdrawal from my migraine meds is what caused the pseudo-pregnancy symptoms. I told him we wouldn’t be back until I had good news.
As sad as I was, I think maybe Brent was a little more distraught. My heart hurt for him almost worse than for myself, especially when a couple of days later he said, “I’m just ready. Ready to be married and ready to have lots of babies.”
I’m ready too.
Sep 8, 2009
Jumping on the Train
At some point I realized that I was intentionally not writing anymore, not because there was nothing to write about, but because there was new, exciting news that I badly wanted to share but not in a public forum. Then it occurred to me that no one read anyway so I may as well put it out there.
Brent and I have always talked about having babies, how we want five or six children and would love if they were all boys – but hopefully one little girl, otherwise I may have a boy with painted toenails. We’ve gone as far as picking out nearly all of the names and the order in which they will be named. Obsessed? Maybe. But it’s just a testament to how sure we are about this life we’re living, and how anxious we are to start our family. Even so, we had agreed very early on to a three year plan: married after a year (even though we probably would have been married shortly after our second date had it been up to us), and babies after three years. By that point LB would be five and we would have had sufficient time to ourselves.
I’m not quite sure when this plan changed. I think it was gradual, that I woke up one day and realized I was turning 25 soon, and all of the women in my family had their first child at 25. That I have close friends who are pregnant and it increases a mother’s want ten-fold. I had lunch with my dear friend Amanda, who after years of trying is finally pregnant with their first son to be born in October. During the course of conversation she assured me many times that all of her friends who wanted to become pregnant had done just that within a month of her pregnancy. Somewhere in that logic the real reason hit me: what if it takes me that long to have a baby? My mother tried for seven years to have me, and had all but given up hope when I became the miracle baby. It terrifies me to think that I could have the same issues, and if I did, why didn’t I start trying sooner? My choice of career all but dictates that I cannot have a child between the time frame of approximately November 15th and March 1st, because that is the busiest time of year for me and well, I’m the only one who does my job.
So the following weekend, on Sunday night, I was putting a new pack of pills in the case and Brent and I were discussing how if we wanted to get pregnant, it had to be in three month intervals, because that’s how often my medicine came in. We laughed and then Brent said something that caught me off guard.
“We could try now?”
Now, as much as I’d been thinking of this very thing, I never thought he’d come out and say it. We spent two hours sitting in the bed, talking, crying, discussing our concerns; all the while I held my little pink pill in my fingertips. At the end of the night we were okay, but I knew that should we change our mind on Monday, we’d still be okay. He was convinced I’d get pregnant right away, but I was not quite as sure. I was miserably sick for the first week, mostly from fear of this life-changing decision we were making, but little by little, day by day, the fear turned to excitement. This would have been MUCH easier had we just “accidently” gotten pregnant. So we went about our normal routine, with an air of anticipation between us, and talked excitedly about what was to be.
During this, I explained to Brent how there were certain things that I really believed in and wanted in my pregnancy experience. I hope to be able to breastfeed, as much for the cost saving benefits as the fact that it’s what’s best for the baby. He's even been scoping out the best book on the subject for me. I also want to make my own baby food, which is relatively simple and so much healthier than the jarred crap you can buy at the store. Lastly, I really want to cloth diaper. Eyebrows raised at this notion, but once I explained why I wanted to do it, we were quickly all onboard. Long before I ever truly considered pregnancy and found Pacing the Panic Room, I had come across a link for these cool cloth diapers called "Fuzzibunz" on a popular baby blog. Sitting at work I was so engrossed in the website that probably an hour passed before I realized that I had read every page and researched where I could buy this amazing product. You see, LB was only 23 months old when we met and still being diapered. He had horrible diaper rash and we spent a ton of money on disposables – and he was only here a week a month. I vowed then and there, that because I knew I’d never be able to move him to cloth and have his mother go along, that with my babies I would put them in nothing but cloth. My mother even grimaced at this, like many thinking back to the folding and pinning of cloth diapers of yesteryear, but once I showed her the site even she was impressed. How could you not be? No rashes, easy cleanup, better for the environment, and babies who are cloth diapered are even said to potty train quicker (our latest struggle with LB). My want for this all but doubled when I realized that the folks from PtPR were doing this exact thing, and to hear their stories was really encouraging.
With all of our thoughts and concerns laid out on the table, we decided to go ahead and jump on the baby train. So here we are, about 2 ½ weeks into the process, and both anxiously awaiting the next few days to see what happens. Brent seems to think I’m already pregnant; I need concrete proof. He says my crankiness and irritability should be proof enough, since I am never like this. We shall see, can’t wait to find out!
Love, KC
Brent and I have always talked about having babies, how we want five or six children and would love if they were all boys – but hopefully one little girl, otherwise I may have a boy with painted toenails. We’ve gone as far as picking out nearly all of the names and the order in which they will be named. Obsessed? Maybe. But it’s just a testament to how sure we are about this life we’re living, and how anxious we are to start our family. Even so, we had agreed very early on to a three year plan: married after a year (even though we probably would have been married shortly after our second date had it been up to us), and babies after three years. By that point LB would be five and we would have had sufficient time to ourselves.
I’m not quite sure when this plan changed. I think it was gradual, that I woke up one day and realized I was turning 25 soon, and all of the women in my family had their first child at 25. That I have close friends who are pregnant and it increases a mother’s want ten-fold. I had lunch with my dear friend Amanda, who after years of trying is finally pregnant with their first son to be born in October. During the course of conversation she assured me many times that all of her friends who wanted to become pregnant had done just that within a month of her pregnancy. Somewhere in that logic the real reason hit me: what if it takes me that long to have a baby? My mother tried for seven years to have me, and had all but given up hope when I became the miracle baby. It terrifies me to think that I could have the same issues, and if I did, why didn’t I start trying sooner? My choice of career all but dictates that I cannot have a child between the time frame of approximately November 15th and March 1st, because that is the busiest time of year for me and well, I’m the only one who does my job.
So the following weekend, on Sunday night, I was putting a new pack of pills in the case and Brent and I were discussing how if we wanted to get pregnant, it had to be in three month intervals, because that’s how often my medicine came in. We laughed and then Brent said something that caught me off guard.
“We could try now?”
Now, as much as I’d been thinking of this very thing, I never thought he’d come out and say it. We spent two hours sitting in the bed, talking, crying, discussing our concerns; all the while I held my little pink pill in my fingertips. At the end of the night we were okay, but I knew that should we change our mind on Monday, we’d still be okay. He was convinced I’d get pregnant right away, but I was not quite as sure. I was miserably sick for the first week, mostly from fear of this life-changing decision we were making, but little by little, day by day, the fear turned to excitement. This would have been MUCH easier had we just “accidently” gotten pregnant. So we went about our normal routine, with an air of anticipation between us, and talked excitedly about what was to be.
During this, I explained to Brent how there were certain things that I really believed in and wanted in my pregnancy experience. I hope to be able to breastfeed, as much for the cost saving benefits as the fact that it’s what’s best for the baby. He's even been scoping out the best book on the subject for me. I also want to make my own baby food, which is relatively simple and so much healthier than the jarred crap you can buy at the store. Lastly, I really want to cloth diaper. Eyebrows raised at this notion, but once I explained why I wanted to do it, we were quickly all onboard. Long before I ever truly considered pregnancy and found Pacing the Panic Room, I had come across a link for these cool cloth diapers called "Fuzzibunz" on a popular baby blog. Sitting at work I was so engrossed in the website that probably an hour passed before I realized that I had read every page and researched where I could buy this amazing product. You see, LB was only 23 months old when we met and still being diapered. He had horrible diaper rash and we spent a ton of money on disposables – and he was only here a week a month. I vowed then and there, that because I knew I’d never be able to move him to cloth and have his mother go along, that with my babies I would put them in nothing but cloth. My mother even grimaced at this, like many thinking back to the folding and pinning of cloth diapers of yesteryear, but once I showed her the site even she was impressed. How could you not be? No rashes, easy cleanup, better for the environment, and babies who are cloth diapered are even said to potty train quicker (our latest struggle with LB). My want for this all but doubled when I realized that the folks from PtPR were doing this exact thing, and to hear their stories was really encouraging.
With all of our thoughts and concerns laid out on the table, we decided to go ahead and jump on the baby train. So here we are, about 2 ½ weeks into the process, and both anxiously awaiting the next few days to see what happens. Brent seems to think I’m already pregnant; I need concrete proof. He says my crankiness and irritability should be proof enough, since I am never like this. We shall see, can’t wait to find out!
Love, KC
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