I got the Di-a-bee-tus

Two weeks after my last post I had to take my 2 hour Glucose tolerance test. I didn't pass. I have Gestational Diabetes. Deep down I had a feeling I wouldn't pass, but I was hoping that I was just being paranoid. I was completely overwhelmed after the Case Manager called me to give me my results.

One thing you have to know about me is that I like information. I like knowing what I'm getting into, or facing (thanks IF), before I have to jump whole hog with a lifestyle change.

I got the call on a Thursday, two days after my 2 hour test, and the only information I was given by the Case Manager, until I could attend a dietician class was, "Avoid juice, and limit starches," Thanks, but that doesn't help me.

I will admit, I was scared to eat at first. I tried getting the gist of the diet online from a Baby.center group called "Gestational Diabetes Mamas", but I was so overwhelmed by all the information. I broke down one day mostly because I was so hungry (and probably not getting enough protein).

After attending my class and receiving a thorough knowledge of what I could eat, how to do food combinations, and what to avoid or limit, eating got better.

My friend, who has had GD with all three of her pregnancies, has been a great resource for me. She gave me a great pep talk about a week after my diagnosis. She pointed out that of all the problems that can occur in pregnancy, GD is probably the best one to have to deal with.

I was proud of myself during the fourth of July festivities. There was so much good food and my SIL makes the best molasses cookies, it was slightly torturous. After lunch we went for a walk and that helped me not go over my numbers.

I'm glad that so far I have been able to control it through diet. My NP was not happy though that some of my weekend dinner numbers were high due to eating out. You know what she told me? "No eating out." I cried in her office. No eating out? Okay, we'll see how that goes.

The only thing I really miss right now is pizza, and a reckless abandon of consuming carbs.

Only 5 more weeks to go!

I already have a list of foods I want to eat after the Boy comes.

Everything else is going well. Sciatic subsided since I have been limiting myself from lifting Miss A. I haven't had any rib jabs, most of the kicks and jabs I feel are either at my belly button, or hips. The shortness of breath has come and I think the waddle is coming soon.

This experience has been awesome. I'm a bit sad that it will end, but we will have a new member of the family to love on, so that is even better.

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.





"I take issue with only children"

I didn't say this.

Why would I? I, myself, am an only child. My child will likely be an only child as well.

I was in the bathroom stall at a restaurant in San Diego this weekend, when I overheard two ladies talking. One of them was talking about her sister-in-law who told her that she is not having anymore children.

The young lady seemed perturbed at the thought of someone intentionally making their child an only child.

"I just take issue with only children. They should have a sibling."

She just going on about only children, bringing up every myth in the book. How we are all spoiled, weird, and lonely.

I came out of that bathroom stall with my Tenth Doctor shirt on, Comic-Con lanyard around my neck, and a smile. I said to her, "We aren't all bad, us only children." And went on to wash my hands. I can't believe I said something to her. A stranger. I was having a bold day, earlier I had asked Alan Tudyk a question at his panel for NERD HQ.

She seemed taken aback and said, "Oh, are you an only child? I'm sorry."

I told her that it was okay, that I wasn't sorry that I was an only. I continued to tell her that, after 9 years of infertility, 2 1/2 years of waiting for an adoption match, that my daughter will most likely be an only too. I also made sure to tell her that I was content having an only. I get to have her all my love and attention. I also told her that most people don't intend to be "one and done".

I learned that her annoyance with her sister-in-law's decision was mostly because SIL didn't have help with the pregnancy or after. SIL felt old (she is now 40), and didn't see the need to try again. Fair enough, it's her decision, not this young woman's. She may not have seen outward complications with her SIL's pregnancy, but that doesn't mean SIL didn't experience PPDA.

I was surprised at this young woman's naïve attitude as she approached pregnancy, like it's a right, a guarantee if you have one, you must have another.  Because she saw no complications in her SIL's pregnancy, she called her lazy for not wanting to experience it again.

However, it was okay for me, with my history of infertility, to be okay with being "one and done". How does that make sense?

It didn't matter what I said, she still seemed to resent her SIL for not wanting more kids all because she assumed it was her nephew's right to have a sibling. Because she herself wants a big family someday.

I hope this SIL doesn't feel pressured to have another child, just to appease her husband or his family. I hope her husband is content with one, if that is her wish to have an only child.

I know I struggle with the whole "one and done". For like a split second.

I often think what if I miraculously got pregnant? How awesome would that be to be able to give Miss A a sibling. But it oftentimes doesn't work out that way.

I can safely say that Michael and I are one and done. We are open to a pregnancy (should it happen, though considering the odds against us, it doesn't look good), but we are not holding our breath to make it happen. We are not open to another adoption either, as the first time was draining enough.

I guess I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I got a "get out of having a second child" free card by this stranger, while she is casting judgment on her SIL. People amaze me.

I know there are people wishing for us to have more children, but considering I'm on the wrong side of 35 I don't see it happening anytime soon. Would I like to prove myself wrong? You bet, but I can't hope for that kind of miracle. Other people can for us, I can't. I like where my focus is right now, which is on my growing daughter. I don't want to lose sight of what I have with her, of what adoption has taught me, and brought into my life.

Maybe this sounds weird, but I don't want her to have to share me with someone else. Does that sound unreasonable? Probably. If I had the luxury of planning out my kids like other people do, this wouldn't be an issue at all.

So all this to say, watch what you talk about in the Ladies room next time you are there with a friend.

It's Been Awhile

Yes, I still have a blog.

Yes, I still have things I would like to say.

Yes, I will start writing in it again.

Let's start with an update.

The last time I wrote, Miss A was 10 months old and just started crawling. Well shortly after that post she also started teething.

In October we celebrated Miss A's first birthday. It was a great day, though she didn't really enjoy her cake.

For a few months prior she was struggling to eat table food and finger foods. Her tongue would push out the food instead of pushing it around and back. She loved Cheerios, but couldn't eat them, just push them out.

At her one year wellness appointment we voiced our concern to her Pediatrician. She referred us to an Occupational Therapist. Miss A responded quickly to therapy. We learned it wasn't a taste or texture issue, but an Oral Motor delay and disinterest in food. Once those issues were resolved, mealtime greatly improved.

In December we moved into a house. No more apartment living for us!

In January, she started walking. One time while watching Figure Skating she took her first steps. It was awesome to watch. She took more steps while watching Rock of Ages bopping and stepping to the Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive".

We survived our first family Tummy bug in February. Miss A bounced back within the day. I, on the other hand, took 3 days to recover, I can no longer eat sweet potato fries and I'm no longer "vomit-free since '85" (but "vomit-free since 2014 has a nice ring to it).

In March Miss A's adoption was finalized.

Right now at 21 months, Miss A is about 33 in tall and wears 12-18 months clothes. She is our petite flower. She talks non-stop, loves books, Minnie Mouse, and Hello Kitty, and if I let her, she would eat "Cado" (avocado) with every meal.

Every day, and week she surprises us with all the new things she wants to do. She wants bigger bites of food, she wants to go up and down the stairs. She doesn't want us to carry her anymore, though this means she MUST hold Daddy or Mommy's hand.

She is growing up fast. I hate it, but I also love it.

Freezing Time

I realize with this blog, I haven't really been writing about A. I should be, this blog was created to document our journey to become parents...her parents.

...and what a ride it has been.

She is ten months old now, crawling, pulling up to a kneeling position, vocalizing, exploring and terrorizing the cats.

I already miss the days when she would only communicate to us in raspberries.

"She will never be this age again," Michael said, one night after we put her to bed.

My heart sank, because I knew he was right. She would never be, 4 months, 6 months, 8 months old again. As much as I loved each and every stage of her infancy (I could do without the 4 month sleep regression). I'm excited about the new stages of her life that are yet to come, and the learning curve in parenting her that comes with every stage.

I still feel like I don't know what the heck I'm doing, though Michael and my mom tell me I'm a good mother. I probably shouldn't let her play underneath her Exersaucer, but she is quiet and happy, so why bother her. I probably shouldn't let her have that unopened, sealed container of tic-tacs, but the container is sealed, I'm watching her and she likes the noise it makes. I probably shouldn't let her take out the Disney VHS tapes on the bottom shelf, but she's happy.

She really is a very happy, easy-going baby - so much that I didn't even know she was teething. Because why would she show the obvious signs of teething (no excessive drool, not really fussy, appetite unchanged). The only out of the ordinary sign - night wakings.

In May, we took her to Walt Disney World - two flights, three time zones, different sleep environment and she did wonderfully. People on the plane were commenting that they didn't even know she was in their section.

She is constantly surprising us with her go-with-the-flow attitude. Especially the 15 hour road trip we took in July to visit Michael's family and introduce her to her cousins.  But maybe this easy going attitude we have is rubbing off on her? Or maybe she just likes to travel?

My nephews, T and K meeting Miss A for the first time.

Can I honestly admit that she was worth the wait? Yes, I can. Though this admission is still hard for me. Mostly because the waiting and the heartache sucked, oftentimes reducing me to a blubbering, crying mess. Many times it felt like ache to have a child would never end.

I remember pleading with God for an end to the journey, the struggle, and pain. Just give me an ending, and answer, God: Are we meant to be parents to a baby, or parents to college students? Because I was so tired of being stuck in the middle for so long.

I know she is not our ending. In fact she is a new beginning and we are already 10 months into that beginning and it is going by so much faster than I anticipated. There are times when I wish I could freeze time, so I could savor each stage of her life at my pace. Because I know one day I'll blink and she will going off to college.

To Fight, or not to Fight? That is the Question...

There was a recent article on Huffington Post about a mom in Millburn, NJ who was beaten severely during a home invasion robbery. The incident was caught on a "nanny cam". It's is very graphic, and horrifying to watch, especially when reading the article the reader learns that this woman's 3 year old daughter was on the couch witnessing her mom get beaten by this intruder. After beating the mom, he threw her down the basement stairs, continued to rob the house of jewelry, and went back to the basement to beat her again.

The woman tells the news reporter that she "took it" because she knew if she screamed, her 3 year old would have screamed to, so her silence was to protect her kids (younger child was napping upstairs).

Someone on my FB newsfeed posted the link to the article and most of the comments on it were along the lines of "the police would have had to scrape him off the floor if it was me".

Really?

In a panic would you have had the presence of mind to take the phone, your child, and hide, or would you have stood your ground and fought back?

I can understand why the woman "took it", but again at what expense? Her 3 year old is traumatized, hopefully not for life, but she will need some sort of counseling. On the other hand, the assailant's attention was solely on the woman, which I think was the woman's intentions.

I think what is bothering me are all these comments from people (some of them moms) "Oh that wouldn't be me. That man wouldn't last 3 seconds...The police would be sifting cornmeal through him..." I appreciate the ferocity in their statements. I understand it, and I too would fight for my life and the life of my child.  But saying it and doing it are two different things. It's just big talk.

Reading between the lines of these statements, it is almost as if the commenters are suggesting that what this mom did (or didn't do) was not brave, simply because she chose not to fight back. Considering the rage this guy had, it was probably a wise choice she didn't fight back as she could have made the incident much worse.

I'm sure fighting back went through that woman's mind. I'm sure she was scared out of her mind, that she likely panicked, not having time to grab her kid, run up the stairs, and lock herself in her bathroom, or her baby's room, and call the police. Maybe she quickly analyzed all the possible scenarios before realizing that the only option left was to just take it, so this person would leave quickly.


In my 8 1/2 months of being a mom, I've had a few "Mama Bear" moments. Nothing compared to this woman's experience, but it was a MB moment. This one occurred when A was brand new, and the pediatrician assigned to us was not listening when I kept telling her that A was turning blue while we were feeding her, and gasping for air when we put her to sleep on her back.

"She's got reflux."

"What about her breathing?"

"You will need to switch formulas."

"What about her breathing?"

"You will also need to hold her upright for 20 minutes after feeding."

"What. About. Her. Breathing?"

(Thoroughly exasperated) "If she turns blue the next time you are feeding her, take her to the ER."

A turned blue that night, three times while we were feeding her and when we attempted to burp her she was gasping for air.

I know what happened, the Ped was likely writing me off as a nervous first time mother. Something was wrong with my child and no one believed me. Once we took A to the ER, the nurses and the Dr on call hooked A up to a pulse oxy machine and saw for themselves while I fed her, that she fell into the 60s and turned a dusky ashen color. They admitted her, and transferred her to their Children's Hospital. (She stayed there for 10 days, had surgery to open her airway, endured multiple tests, and was eventually cleared to go home.)One of the nurses hugged me, and said, "You did the right thing bringing her in."  They believed me. The fight was not in vain. I could finally let out the breath I was holding.


I honestly don't know what I would have done if I was in that Millburn, NJ woman's shoes. I know I would protect my child, that is a given. I don't know if I would have just stood there and taken a severe beating from an intruder, but if it took the attention away from my child and protected her from being assaulted...then yes. In the grand scheme of things I like to think that I would have taken my child, called the police and hid.

It just pains me that this woman endured so much, such a senseless act of violence - for what a few hundred dollars worth of jewelry?

I hope she and her child make a quick recovery and get the help that they need to be able to live through this horrific incident.

I hope they catch the intruder, so that this does not happen ever again.

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!