Something Surprising happened...in January

I always seem to apologize every time I start to post to this blog. It has been far too long and for that, I'm sorry.

Things are going good over here. Just when we feel we have figured out and perfected a new stage in Miss A's life, a new stage emerges. This time...the limit-testing, boundary pushing, "No" saying, 2.5 year old stage, and she is really good at being 2.5.

She is extremely verbal, so of course everything I tell her, she likes to say it back to me. At least she hears me, but does she listen...sometimes. Overall, she is a great kid, and excellent in public. She just likes to save the tantrums for us in the privacy of our home. I can handle that if the trade off is a well behaved 2.5 year old at a restaurant.

We have had great progress with the "Time Timer" app on my phone to motivate her to put her toys away. I think the having a visual time countdown helps. She loves it.

She also loves going to park and sliding on the slide and swinging on the swings. She is an outdoor girl, which at this point I need to learn to like since I'm not very outdoorsy. There are many great things about her, and not enough room to write them all here. One such accomplishment of hers that I am very proud of is that she is potty-trained. WOOT!!!

Here she is enjoying some Mac n' Cheese

 

The last time I posted, I talked about how I overheard a woman discuss with her friend how much she resented her sister-in-law only wanting one child. She flippantly talked about how wrong it was for a child to not have a sibling, and that she would never do that to her child. I say 'flippant' because this young naïve girl assumed she would be fertile enough to have multiple children.

I also discussed how much Michael and I were one and done; the contentment we felt having one child was enough; how much a pregnancy was welcomed, but unlikely.

Well...in January I was late. Not so much a surprise, given our history of anovulatory cycles, polycystic ovaries, and one tube. I knew I should test, but I kept putting it off, and putting it off, and putting it off.

I finally took the stupid test and wouldn't you know, it says, "PREGNANT". I started crying and called Michael immediately. We had never had a HPT that was positive. I stupidly asked him what I do now. He told me to call the doctor.

We had an appointment the following week. In the meantime I called and requested for an order to check HCG levels. It was 53244. The first ultrasound dated the baby at 6 weeks 5 days, EDD September 12, 2015.

So far every ultrasound and blood test I have had has come out normal. We are expecting a boy.

Here he is at 19 weeks.

 

I'm still living one day, one week at a time. I know that there are things that I need to plan ahead for, so I have made a wish list of things we need for him. A part of me is still very cautiously optimistic. We have a name picked out, but are NOT telling anyone. For now we just refer to him as Star-lord or The Boy.

 

I have no idea how to prepare a toddler for a new sibling, so any advice is appreciated. I have some books in mind to read to her. She likes to kiss my tummy.

 

The Boy does love to kick, often really late at night and really early in the morning. He will stop kicking the moment Michael puts his hand on my tummy. He already is a tease.

 

To say that this is all so surreal is an understatement. I went from being angry (yes, I was angry), to ambivalent, to finally excited. Even at 26 weeks, I still can't believe this is happening. I feel so grateful for this experience and opportunity to add to our family.

 

We reach the 3rd trimester in 2 weeks. I can't believe this is almost over.





Survivors' Guilt

UGH! Has it really been five months since I last posted?

I swore to myself that I would keep this blog up. Sorry for being MIA.

Last time I wrote we were approaching the dreaded 4-month sleep regression, and let me tell you, that was hard. We went from short naps, to no naps, to overtired infant and sleep-deprived mom. It was madness. On top of that, her reflux meds needed to be adjusted for her weight. No wonder she didn't want to nap.

I found this wonderful baby sleep site called Troublesome Tots. The woman is a genius. Started putting A in a swing for naps, and it helped her sleep by having her upright, as well as "teaching" her how to fall asleep on her own. At night I played with "Putting her down awake" and some days it worked, some days not so much.

At five months we moved A to her own room, which was the best move we could have done. She slept much better in her own space.

At six months we moved her out of her pack n' play and into her crib, though still having her sleep in a swing for naps. Three weeks later A weaned herself off the swing and is now sleeping exclusively in her crib.

A is seven months now, no teeth and still sleeping through the night. She can roll over from tummy to back and back to tummy. She likes to squeal real loudly and scare the cats. I put her in the infant carrier and we go for walks, but since she is so fair I have to be careful about the sun for fear she might burst into flames.

Even after seven months it's still so surreal that we have a baby.

Speaking of surreal...Mother's day was a whole new experience.

For awhile, even after having A, I was still struggling with the concept of "Mothers' Day". I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to church, go to brunch, or just spend the day with my mom walking around antique shops (something we always do). I didn't really want to think about it.

Mothers' Day had always been this longed-for treasured experience, that over the years turned into my biggest enemy (along with her mate, Fathers' Day). Nine years of hating this day, and all of a sudden I'm suppose to put on a happy face and forget the past? But I am happy, so why do I feel so guilty?

One morning I had a breakthrough when it hit me why I was feeling the way I was...

Survivors' guilt.

I don't know if this is a common feeling among couples who are parenting after infertility. I don't think it is shared much for fear that the couple may be labeled "ungrateful" or "crazy". I questioned celebrating Mothers' Day, mostly because I still have friends that are deep in the trenches of infertility and loss.

But at the same time, I had "crossed over" and I felt I'd be doing a disservice to myself and my friends if I didn't enjoy the day, and it was a great day.

I was actually happy, which I haven't allowed myself to be happy on that day for the last 9 years.  We even went to church. It was surreal being out with A and my mom and not have this heavy weight of "what could have been". Instead it was a welcoming lightness of "what is to come".

However, I would not be able to celebrate Mothers' day if it wasn't for one brave young woman who made the most courageous sacrifice, so that I could become a mother. Thank you!