4 years ago tonight, I was at home, wondering what might be happening with the two little embryos that had been transferred that morning... I was feeling oddly happy. Optimistic even.
http://www.i-cant-whistle.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy.html
Right now, one of those two little cell clusters is sitting on Doug, saying Again, Daddy-- I am bringing the baby to the doctor for a shot, but not an ouchy shot, a gentle shot...you be the doctor.
A billion and a half shots later, here we are.
holy moly.
How amazing is that.
Showing posts with label happy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happy. Show all posts
10 February 2014
11 December 2013
3.083333
Della, somehow you are 3.
Magnificent, magical, astonishingly 3.
You have been a miracle since those two cells decided to join up and create a possibility, where, statistically, there was none.
You make me laugh every day. Drive me wild with my impatience and your own. Challenge me to be the best of myself, and to be compassionate when I am the worst of myself.
You are tender and fierce, and have taught me so much about my own tenderness and the surprising depth of my fierceness.
You are so smart
when you act like a 3 year old, it is shocking.
and I catch myself over and over and over again feeling shocked at things that are so completely typical of 3.
You are so eloquent, that I am lost when your fears or sadness cannot find words.
You are so kinetic, and want so badly to share every moment of your movement.
You love to dance and sing, and dance and dance and dance. You climb on daddy like he is a jungle gym. You love to be carried "like a baby", but at 50 lbs, I cannot carry you as easily as I once could.
You negotiate like a diplomat.
You state your needs like a pro when you know what they are.
You come apart when you are tired.
(so do I, so do I...)
You sing your own words so our lullabye now goes
Lullabye, go tonight
sleepy dreams to you
sleepy dreams
sleepy dreams
sleepy dreams come true
You are losing your baby-speak, so I find I am not wanting to correct the ones that are left-- vanilla is something else, like, vallina. Banana just graduated from buyana. Granola is still something like grallona. Coloring or drawing is Drullering. You know coloring. you know drawing. but you also know you most often do both. hence drullering.
we could all do a little more of that.
You are starting to play a little more on your own, for moments at a time. But always want to engage us, and want us to be on your level. When you sit on the floor, you want us to sit on the floor too. When you dance, you want us to dance with you too. You are flooded with instantaneous sadness when we say no.
We say no.
There is sadness.
We are all learning how to surf this.
It is so not easy.
You are complex and beautiful. You are so smart and strong,
We may never wean, you exclaim that you LOVE NURSING, LOVE MY BOOBS (oy), and while we have cut way back, and want to cut back more, it is so not easy.
We may never potty train. An event at daycare with a scary toilet that caused pain once has set us back years it seems. you are too big for success on the small potty. You will NOT sit on the big potty even with a special small seat... oy, it is hard. But we are working on it, by offering opportunities, quiet rewards, support. You do not poop for days at a time, worried about the discomfort, so you hold it, and create discomfort that then causes more concern. So, Miralax. but that is not so easy or magical either. Except yesterday when I took it by accident thinking it was water.
That was easy. And magical. In a sarcastic pooptastic sort of way.
We may never sleep apart. You sleep crazy-- sitting up, talking, lying down in random directions. I have lots of retroactive wishes that were not possible at the time. Like, say, CRIB. But there we are. Here we are.
You count to 20, know the alphabet, recognize all numbers and some letters. Are starting to see the connection between letters and words, words and reading... I can see the circuits starting to form.
Your language skills are insane, nuanced, complex, sophisticated. So are your facial expressions, and your mannerisms. You get jokes-- and have cultivated a spooky fake laugh.
I love making you laugh more than almost anything, the real laugh, the one that causes dimples.
You love toast and peas and cucumbers. You love apples. You look at carrots with suspicion and have stopped eating sweet potatoes outright. I am not sure what you think they are, except, perhaps, carrots in disguise. I wish you would eat food that I remember loving. But you are you.
you are you.
you are you.
Every day is a miracle with you.
I get lost, sometimes, in the logistics-- getting you dressed and out the door, getting you down the stairs and into the car, getting you to do anything that is not motivated by you or chocolate bits...
I get impatient and I am sorry. I do not like my own voice then, my own face, my own impatient body. I want to soften into the moments, since hardening does not create ease, or make things happen faster or more efficiently.
You are friends right now with Lucy, whom you idolize (since she is 4 and has princess dresses). Your best days are at her house.
I cannot imagine life without you except when I do, say, 20 minutes into a crying jag, when I feel my edges fraying, and I remember that I always wanted to drive cross country alone.
But even a few hours apart when we would normally be together and I feel a pull like gravity, and feel so grateful to walk back in, and see you, hear you say Momma. You are now calling me MOM with a teenage lilt. And Mommy, sometimes. But I want you to call me Momma forever.
Magnificent, magical, astonishingly 3.
You have been a miracle since those two cells decided to join up and create a possibility, where, statistically, there was none.
You make me laugh every day. Drive me wild with my impatience and your own. Challenge me to be the best of myself, and to be compassionate when I am the worst of myself.
You are tender and fierce, and have taught me so much about my own tenderness and the surprising depth of my fierceness.
You are so smart
when you act like a 3 year old, it is shocking.
and I catch myself over and over and over again feeling shocked at things that are so completely typical of 3.
You are so eloquent, that I am lost when your fears or sadness cannot find words.
You are so kinetic, and want so badly to share every moment of your movement.
You love to dance and sing, and dance and dance and dance. You climb on daddy like he is a jungle gym. You love to be carried "like a baby", but at 50 lbs, I cannot carry you as easily as I once could.
You negotiate like a diplomat.
You state your needs like a pro when you know what they are.
You come apart when you are tired.
(so do I, so do I...)
You sing your own words so our lullabye now goes
Lullabye, go tonight
sleepy dreams to you
sleepy dreams
sleepy dreams
sleepy dreams come true
You are losing your baby-speak, so I find I am not wanting to correct the ones that are left-- vanilla is something else, like, vallina. Banana just graduated from buyana. Granola is still something like grallona. Coloring or drawing is Drullering. You know coloring. you know drawing. but you also know you most often do both. hence drullering.
we could all do a little more of that.
You are starting to play a little more on your own, for moments at a time. But always want to engage us, and want us to be on your level. When you sit on the floor, you want us to sit on the floor too. When you dance, you want us to dance with you too. You are flooded with instantaneous sadness when we say no.
We say no.
There is sadness.
We are all learning how to surf this.
It is so not easy.
You are complex and beautiful. You are so smart and strong,
We may never wean, you exclaim that you LOVE NURSING, LOVE MY BOOBS (oy), and while we have cut way back, and want to cut back more, it is so not easy.
We may never potty train. An event at daycare with a scary toilet that caused pain once has set us back years it seems. you are too big for success on the small potty. You will NOT sit on the big potty even with a special small seat... oy, it is hard. But we are working on it, by offering opportunities, quiet rewards, support. You do not poop for days at a time, worried about the discomfort, so you hold it, and create discomfort that then causes more concern. So, Miralax. but that is not so easy or magical either. Except yesterday when I took it by accident thinking it was water.
That was easy. And magical. In a sarcastic pooptastic sort of way.
We may never sleep apart. You sleep crazy-- sitting up, talking, lying down in random directions. I have lots of retroactive wishes that were not possible at the time. Like, say, CRIB. But there we are. Here we are.
You count to 20, know the alphabet, recognize all numbers and some letters. Are starting to see the connection between letters and words, words and reading... I can see the circuits starting to form.
Your language skills are insane, nuanced, complex, sophisticated. So are your facial expressions, and your mannerisms. You get jokes-- and have cultivated a spooky fake laugh.
I love making you laugh more than almost anything, the real laugh, the one that causes dimples.
You love toast and peas and cucumbers. You love apples. You look at carrots with suspicion and have stopped eating sweet potatoes outright. I am not sure what you think they are, except, perhaps, carrots in disguise. I wish you would eat food that I remember loving. But you are you.
you are you.
you are you.
Every day is a miracle with you.
I get lost, sometimes, in the logistics-- getting you dressed and out the door, getting you down the stairs and into the car, getting you to do anything that is not motivated by you or chocolate bits...
I get impatient and I am sorry. I do not like my own voice then, my own face, my own impatient body. I want to soften into the moments, since hardening does not create ease, or make things happen faster or more efficiently.
You are friends right now with Lucy, whom you idolize (since she is 4 and has princess dresses). Your best days are at her house.
I cannot imagine life without you except when I do, say, 20 minutes into a crying jag, when I feel my edges fraying, and I remember that I always wanted to drive cross country alone.
But even a few hours apart when we would normally be together and I feel a pull like gravity, and feel so grateful to walk back in, and see you, hear you say Momma. You are now calling me MOM with a teenage lilt. And Mommy, sometimes. But I want you to call me Momma forever.
 |
| with my mom, sharing a scarf |
 |
| 3!!! just. like. that. |
08 May 2013
rain
in this moment, our first, real hard spring rain is falling...
coming down as if it's been thrown.
suddenly the air smells *so clean*
and every tiny new green thing is instantly impossibly greener.
I can almost hear the grass growing.
(I imagine it sounds like a subterranean version of sneakers on a basketball court)
coming down as if it's been thrown.
suddenly the air smells *so clean*
and every tiny new green thing is instantly impossibly greener.
I can almost hear the grass growing.
(I imagine it sounds like a subterranean version of sneakers on a basketball court)
29 April 2013
remembering how to walk.
Each season, my eyes learn something new. This spring, I learned that the papery leaves on the beech trees that last, miraculously, all winter-- get pushed off by these long spiny spiraled furls of new leaves. The old leaves are parchment. The new ones begin as dark red tips on gray brown twigs.
I walked. I walked in the woods.
In the old days, this would have been nothing to remark on. The walking I mean. The beech leaves would have been worth remarking any day.
But the walking. Remember how i used to walk? I hiked every day, or most days. I spent time outdoors every day. Sometimes in the garden. Sometimes in the hammock. But outside. looking long and far (sky and stars) or close at flowers and roots and dirt.
I walked and breathed fresh air and felt my muscles push me uphill, and slow me down on the descents. I walked and walked and walked.
I walked.
I have missed it. OH how I have missed it.
Della and I climbed into the thicket beside the big overgrown apple tree, up behind the garage thingy that holds the tools for maintenance here at our apartment building. We made a hole through the branches of the tree, the branches of the bushes next to it, and suddenly were under the tree, a mystical umbrella of branches and sky. Oh loveliness.
Then up behind the tree into the woods. Woods with tiny tiny pinecones. Woods with fallen branches to step over. Woods with fallen leaves. Woods filled with deer poop. Woods that smelled like woods and dirt and life. Up the hill toward the clearning I could feel by the light. And to the edge of the back side of the golf course! What a surprise that was. I did not know that is where this property ended. The rustic local course that feels like it is far away. I realize now, the roads fold back, and the clearing makes sense now that I know it. But it felt like a surprise, like I was expecting sheep up there. Not greens.
We turned back and came downhill again, back under the tree, through the branches, and back into the small slice of grass before the parking lot. It was a small walk, but a very big walk. I spent so much time thinking about it. How the woods have been there much longer than I have lived here (of course), and of course I look at them and look at them and look at them. But then, that day, something shifted. The light maybe. My perspective. The woods, I realized, could be hiked through.... it was like an epiphany. And it felt *possible* for the first time. A walk! Yes, with Della. Yes, holding hands and lifting over logs and under branches, and no don't pick that up it's poo. And yes....
And up there, a beech tree. Parchment leaves littering the ground underneath, with a few still on the branches...and new furled leaves waiting.
***
Totally gratuitous Della photo and me, smiling, and leaning wayyyyyy over to compensate for the DellaGrande. From friday at my Mom's.
30 November 2012
Della photos by Susan Mullen
Want more? Head over to Susan's blog. Oh my my.
09 November 2012
22 May 2012
Join me in celebrating?
Just got some great news from an online friend that she and her
partner are expecting--- after many many ART attempts, much shitty
attendant IF-o-rama, body uncertainty and complexity, but now.... now?
EXPECTING! I wish she had a blog so I could send you there to
celebrate with them-- so I ask you, please feel free to do so here in
the comments, I will compile anything supportive and congratulatory you
write and send her a note. For the purposes of this celebration, let's call her S. And if you've ever wanted to delurk and comment, please do so!
I'm experimenting with taking off the catpcha so you should be able to comment even from a smart phone...
I am so thrilled for them I could jump and clap, and truly feel deep joy about this success.
I love hearing happy news.
This past week has been filled with sadness on the internet-- I keep landing on blogs with news of loss and there is always such a horrid wash of grief...
I feel my heart drop when someone gets a negative, or a slow beta....and gasp aloud at the soul-deep horror of miscarriage. (god/goddess/all-that-is).
I groove on great news and feel stricken by bad.
I just want to say while I don't know your path... I am not you... I have not had your specific struggles, or your specific successes.... I do not and cannot truly understand your unique context, your unique complexities, your hopes and dreams and history...
I can say this: wherever you are on your path-- to parenthood, or transitioning at midlife, or seeking your truth, I may not be able to Know or truly Understand, but oh! I hear you.
I'm experimenting with taking off the catpcha so you should be able to comment even from a smart phone...
I am so thrilled for them I could jump and clap, and truly feel deep joy about this success.
I love hearing happy news.
This past week has been filled with sadness on the internet-- I keep landing on blogs with news of loss and there is always such a horrid wash of grief...
I feel my heart drop when someone gets a negative, or a slow beta....and gasp aloud at the soul-deep horror of miscarriage. (god/goddess/all-that-is).
I groove on great news and feel stricken by bad.
I just want to say while I don't know your path... I am not you... I have not had your specific struggles, or your specific successes.... I do not and cannot truly understand your unique context, your unique complexities, your hopes and dreams and history...
I can say this: wherever you are on your path-- to parenthood, or transitioning at midlife, or seeking your truth, I may not be able to Know or truly Understand, but oh! I hear you.
10 May 2012
18 months yesterday
18 months and I cannot quite get my head around this miniature moody teenager living in our midst....this dazzling beauty, so smart and funny, so sure of what she wants, the way she wants it, so unable to adjust to our slow rate of understanding, or, worse, getting it wrong. She is ferocious, wonderful, busy, with the biggest best smile, and wonderful snorty laugh (that's my girl). Dimples, a love of Shrek (wree) and Elmo (ELMO!), curly hair that is 8" long when stretched out that she sometimes plays with and that I play with often...
last night we lay in bed and I looked at her amazing face, right there, Right There next to mine... Sometimes I am truly breathless with wonder.
She loves to look at the moo and tars
She loves to swee (swing) and go down the slide
She loves being in the backpack on daddy Doug (back)
She loves toast (TOAST! + happy wriggly dance)
She loves finding patterns that she knows, apples, frogs, dogs, cats, cows, stars...
She loves cake, she calls it, excitedly, dirt! (dellaspeak for dessert).
She hates baths, truly...
and is not fond of diaper changes
does not like being rushed into dressing if she is not ready
will not try new foods except the rare sometimes or when daddy sneaks it in
She is not fond of the car, gets impatient with drives quickly, and sometimes fights a great big sad fight when we get in...
She runs and dances and climbs and seems fearless (oy!)
She loves being held until she doesn't.
She is tender and fierce.
She says a good firm unapologetic No, and a very happy Yes (yeah yeah yeah)
She asks about Dada when he is not home yet, or in the other room, or sleeping... and just about jumps out of her skin in happiness when he appears.
She runs toward me when I pick her up at daycare, and shows me everything. Gardens, sandbox, slide, big rock, big stumps, dirt...
Firmly into 2T clothes, size 6 shoes getting tight, and on the cusp of size 5 diapers...
Della. Wow. 18 months already. DELIGHT.
last night we lay in bed and I looked at her amazing face, right there, Right There next to mine... Sometimes I am truly breathless with wonder.
She loves to look at the moo and tars
She loves to swee (swing) and go down the slide
She loves being in the backpack on daddy Doug (back)
She loves toast (TOAST! + happy wriggly dance)
She loves finding patterns that she knows, apples, frogs, dogs, cats, cows, stars...
She loves cake, she calls it, excitedly, dirt! (dellaspeak for dessert).
She hates baths, truly...
and is not fond of diaper changes
does not like being rushed into dressing if she is not ready
will not try new foods except the rare sometimes or when daddy sneaks it in
She is not fond of the car, gets impatient with drives quickly, and sometimes fights a great big sad fight when we get in...
She runs and dances and climbs and seems fearless (oy!)
She loves being held until she doesn't.
She is tender and fierce.
She says a good firm unapologetic No, and a very happy Yes (yeah yeah yeah)
She asks about Dada when he is not home yet, or in the other room, or sleeping... and just about jumps out of her skin in happiness when he appears.
She runs toward me when I pick her up at daycare, and shows me everything. Gardens, sandbox, slide, big rock, big stumps, dirt...
Firmly into 2T clothes, size 6 shoes getting tight, and on the cusp of size 5 diapers...
Della. Wow. 18 months already. DELIGHT.
(crazy great photos by Susan Mullen www.susanmullenphotography.com/blog)
15 April 2012
crazy good
Just back from a weekend in Maine to celebrate our almost two year anniversary! I can't quite believe that, but to celebrate, we asked our amazingly gifted and talented friend and life photographer Susan Mullen to do some family photos up at the location of the wedding.
It was a day almost completely unlike our wedding, it was so warm! No rain/snow! But so very beautiful. We played around and she took photos in the windy wild grasses, and, well, the results are amazing.
CRAZY GOOD.
Please stop by her blog to see more and and say hello.
It was a day almost completely unlike our wedding, it was so warm! No rain/snow! But so very beautiful. We played around and she took photos in the windy wild grasses, and, well, the results are amazing.
CRAZY GOOD.
Please stop by her blog to see more and and say hello.
22 March 2012
My first guest post!
I am VERY excited.
I'm just sayin'.
Please stop by Dani's blog and share the love.
http://lifeunconstrained.com/blog
I'm just sayin'.
Please stop by Dani's blog and share the love.
http://lifeunconstrained.com/blog
21 March 2012
Dreamy dreams
Doug and I went out to dinner alone last night thanks to dearest Tammy who sat with Della.
We talked about many things, but one of them was this: how dreamy (as in dream-like) this reality with Della feels compared to when we were mired in all of the fertility treatments. For both of us, this feels a little un-real, like we might wake from it at any time.
Maybe it is the sleep deprivation; maybe it is because we tried for so long that it still is hard to believe it worked.
But it got me to thinking about the unfairness of some things: how we can so easily remember painful horrible shite, but then cannot quite recall feeling fine, or even pretty darned happy. We're wired to protect ourselves against future pain by remembering past pain (avoid jungle, remember tiger/venomous snakes/fear-or-threat-of-choice)....
But wouldn't it be great if we could evolve into being able to recall the bliss just as easily. Be able to revel in the happy, the ordinary, the everyday... with acute awareness that it is actually happening, without this edge-dulling dream-like weirdness.
My dreams are often more real than my waking these days, and that I find to be disturbing.
I cannot help but retroactively wish things had been different-- that I'd been able to sit back and totally groove on my pregnancy. But I didn't. I couldn't. I was too scared. And now, with Della, how do I hone my consciousness to allow the reality of her to feel as real, more real, than The Quest?
I don't know. I guess I just wanted to say it out loud.
Regardless of dreaminess, with Della sometimes, when we are looking at one another, or when she squeals DADA and runs to the door... my heart just about bursts with love and with surprise that she is actually here, that she IS.
Oh, how lucky we are, dreamy or not.
We talked about many things, but one of them was this: how dreamy (as in dream-like) this reality with Della feels compared to when we were mired in all of the fertility treatments. For both of us, this feels a little un-real, like we might wake from it at any time.
Maybe it is the sleep deprivation; maybe it is because we tried for so long that it still is hard to believe it worked.
But it got me to thinking about the unfairness of some things: how we can so easily remember painful horrible shite, but then cannot quite recall feeling fine, or even pretty darned happy. We're wired to protect ourselves against future pain by remembering past pain (avoid jungle, remember tiger/venomous snakes/fear-or-threat-of-choice)....
But wouldn't it be great if we could evolve into being able to recall the bliss just as easily. Be able to revel in the happy, the ordinary, the everyday... with acute awareness that it is actually happening, without this edge-dulling dream-like weirdness.
My dreams are often more real than my waking these days, and that I find to be disturbing.
I cannot help but retroactively wish things had been different-- that I'd been able to sit back and totally groove on my pregnancy. But I didn't. I couldn't. I was too scared. And now, with Della, how do I hone my consciousness to allow the reality of her to feel as real, more real, than The Quest?
I don't know. I guess I just wanted to say it out loud.
Regardless of dreaminess, with Della sometimes, when we are looking at one another, or when she squeals DADA and runs to the door... my heart just about bursts with love and with surprise that she is actually here, that she IS.
Oh, how lucky we are, dreamy or not.
14 November 2010
23 September 2010
Beauty
Happy Equinox (yesterday)-- and happy Autumn- the season in which I will become a mom.Holy moly folks. It is starting to feel more and more like this is really going to happen. Here we are, halfway through week 34. And every bit of this feels magical, miraculous and dreamy (dreamy also means a bit surreal and I wish I felt more like it is really happening moment to moment, but it's as if I can't quite let myself believe it. To which I say: fuck you, infertility).
So-- since timing is often odd, the weekend after Justin's truly fun balloon photos, our dear friend Susan Mullen, who was our insanely talented elopement photographer, had a free day and asked us to come to Maine for family pregnancy photos (it was the last day of week 32 I guess). How could we say no? So we spent the afternoon with her, taking family photos and laughing hard and simply enjoying the salty air and the slanting sun. Spending time in the company of both my beloved and a dear friend, what could be better?
We spent the night up there, slept not at all on a hard hotel bed with my broken-feeling pelvis, and headed back the next day.
Then she sent these.
Holy shit people-- want to see more? Since we've sort of outed ourselves here with our actual identities, I feel more open about sharing than I did. So, here's the link. And if you are thinking of southern Maine, and photos, and are happy and easy going, please think of Susan. She is a wonderful warm talented person, so easy to work with, so kind and generous, and so wonderfully FUN.
We had a great time and the images are simply breath taking. I cried, no kidding, when I saw them. How often do we get to see our own love, right on the surface? Bliss.
20 September 2010
400th post
To celebrate my 400th post
I am pleased to announce:
SPROGBLOGGER HAD HER BABY!
WHOO HOO! Her it-all-ends-well birth story is up on her blog right-this-very-moment to satiate all of us who were refreshing compulsively all weekend.
I am over the moon for her and for The Boy.
Welcome to the world baby Henry,
we are all so very happy to have you here.
06 September 2010
week 32
Fantastic News! Joannah is pregnant! She had a great first beta and if you do not already know her story, it is one of true love and true devotion. I am not a crier and I cried reading her post. I am so happy for her, beyond happy really, over the moon.
NoodleGirl Lara had her baby! (BEAUTIFUL oh my)
And us? We're 32 weeks along, and I cannot quite believe it.
I spent too many hours this delicious long weekend job hunting/searching/researching and felt my life force being drained away. Seriously, I had to step away from the computer, get outside, get moving and remind myself that I cannot just let that depletion happen. I have to feed myself good things, love, nature, food, creativity.
Why oh why is it so easy to forget what I already know????
I did get extra sleep each morning since friday (night sleep sucks rocks, but morning sleep is awesome)-- so that was great. I am still tired but at least I've gotten some rest and I know it.
This morning at 4:35am as I got up, I saw this light in the woods through the window. The stars were so bright, Orion was completely visible behind the leafed out trees-- welcome back old friend!
24 August 2010
all good news
A very quick happy update to say--cervix is long and closed, 4cm.... placenta is totally out of the way now (4 cm away from cervix), cord insertion is mid placenta, NO VESSELS across the internal os, and the only ones nearby are not cord vessels--
so
NO PLACENTA PREVIA (not even marginal)
and
most importantly:
NO VASA PREVIA
Yes, I am going for a second opinion to a maternal fetal medicine specialist whom I already know and trust. They gave me a referral and I am waiting for the call with the appointment time.
But as of this moment, after this most amazing ultrasound appointment (it turns out she is one of the top US experts in the country, which I absolutely believe-- 45 minute exam, internal, external, careful, thorough, with doppler etc.)-- I now find myself (quite surprisingly) in the vaginal birth at term category.
Baby is 3 lbs 10 oz (holy crap)
I am up 24 lbs (all belly, breasts, and upper thighs in a 95/4/1 percent ratio)
and
I am stunned, dizzy, dazzled, exhausted, relieved is not a big enough word, I want to cry, to sleep, to lie on the sofa and spend the next 6 hours feeling the baby move.
The baby is head down, head right tucked in as it should be to get ready for the big reveal...(now I know what is where, I know what I thought was a knee is a butt)---
Holy crap people, what a wild ride THIS is.
I want to run around in circles, laugh, cry, jump up and down (ok, in reality only two of those four are actually options).
In this moment, it's all good.
22 March 2010
all is well
holy crap!
a quick note to say
ALL IS WELL
our little one is measuring exactly 8w1d, 16.6mm long, hb 166
Our NP said we are 93% "out of the woods", wished us well and kicked us out.
We are happy and stunned and blessed and lucky. All new things. I admit it does not feel real at all (except the horrible yuck which feels pretty darn real I guess).
I'll write more later, but since I know how I hold my breath on news like this from all of you- wanted so much to share the happy!
a quick note to say
ALL IS WELL
our little one is measuring exactly 8w1d, 16.6mm long, hb 166
Our NP said we are 93% "out of the woods", wished us well and kicked us out.
We are happy and stunned and blessed and lucky. All new things. I admit it does not feel real at all (except the horrible yuck which feels pretty darn real I guess).
I'll write more later, but since I know how I hold my breath on news like this from all of you- wanted so much to share the happy!
20 February 2010
7 things
THANK YOU Sprogblogger and baby,interrupted (who just got an awesome beta yesterday!)
Thanks for the sweet award!
Award rules:
1) Thank the person(s) who nominated you for this award
2) Copy the award and place it in your blog
3) Link to the person(s) who nominated you for this award
4) Tell us 7 interesting things about you
5) Nominate 7 bloggers and link to their blogs
1. For about 8 years of my childhood, from 1st through 8th grade, I grew up on a small (4 acres maybe) subsistence farm in Connecticut, in a yuppy preppy town. We had a cow, chickens, rabbits, pigs, geese, a horse, a pony, amazing gardens tended by my mom, a big green stake bed truck. We had apple trees with tiny bitter yellow warty fruit, and lilac bushes, and secret paths. We had a hay barn, and two cats, and a dog. We had concord grape vines, and a semi circular gravel driveway that flanked an open field. It was the coolest place in the world, and I dream of it so often, I am often surprised when I wake and find myself elsewhere. I changed schools a lot during those years, so home for me was the stable thing. A climbing tree (a sturdy maple), a red maple that held one end of the rope hammock, a rain barrel, a magnolia tree. A rickety above ground pool that saved our asses many a hot summer day. The town we lived in was not filled with farms, I was the only farm kid I knew except my sister. I remember bringing a chicken to school with me one day for show and tell. I remember I brought it in a hoover vacuum box. A lot about my childhood sucked ass-- I was sick a lot with belly issues (colitis), school stressed me out horribly, and it was just really hard for me being out in the world since I never knew when I would be stuck in the bathroom or in a crisis trying to find one. But home? The farm? I cannot tell you what it meant to me.
2. When I started college I thought I would be a modern dancer since it was something I was enjoying doing, it was not a choice so much as a default- then I got injured and had to reassess. It was impossible for me to imagine what I would want to do- I've never had a calling, never had one outstanding talent, never had a when-I-grow-up-I'll..... so, so much of my life has felt accidental and reactive-- responding to what comes up, situations or opportunities that arise. After the injury I had a bunch of aptitude tests done and the fellow doing the testing said that I had great 3-D visualization ability, perhaps I should consider Imaging Science... the time came for a change, and I went to a new school, took Imaging Science. I graduated in a shitty economy and took the first job offered-- and began a career that I have never ever felt passionately about. I became an expert in something now obsolete, but it lead me through jobs at three companies- the last is the one I am at now. I have been here for 12 years. I love my coworkers (love working with smart people!) and love working with customers, love technical troubleshooting, love helping make things work. But I do not love what I do. And I have always felt that there are pieces missing, like I took a wrong turn and am not quite lost but a few blocks away from where I should be.
3. I've been talking with my sister a lot lately about how we thought that if we were nice, tried hard, followed the rules, that we would succeed. And we've both come to the realization that the ones who really succeed are those who question and push and ask for more than what is offered, dream new things, test boundaries or simply not believe in them, are nice perhaps but not as a rule... and it is a hard thing to learn at this late date that what I should have been learning is risk taking, dreaming big, trial and error, learning that failing is OK, try again, try something else.
4. I have always feared failure. It has kept me from trying new things, exploring, and I do not think I regret too many things more than this. I wish I had grown up in the generation of video games, fail and try again is part of the process of playing, it is expected, it is not a show stopper, it does not mean you are unworthy or an idiot or a failure.....I wish I had known I would live through failure. I did not fail a class until college where I got a D. And I honestly did not know what to do- it was a required class, calc 3, infinite series, what the hell.... I had to take it. So I took it again as a audit, and then, I took it again for credit. I may have a fear of failure but apparently I also have tenacity. But only because I had to. I wonder who I would have become if I had somehow learned to fear less and risk more, and realize that failure is often a part of learning, and it was separate from my kateness.
5. I've written about this before. I love food. Being gluten free, dairy free, egg free has been such a pain in the ass. I miss food, I miss cheese, I miss bread, I miss making bread and baking. I am not much of a cook at all, but I sure do love baking. So since the dietary change, I have felt bereft, have found some things that are ok, but also realize that eating has lost a lot of joy for me. I am trying very hard to find things I love-- I made a great turkey meatloaf twice now that is really great. made a chocolate cake that was DIVINE but nearly killed me (still not sure what thing caused me trouble)-- the issue is not that I will stop breathing, but that I will be incapacitated with horrible belly issues, pain, and be stuck in the bathroom. So I cannot experiment too much. I want to identify 15 great meals, and several really yummy count-on-it treats. So far I've got about 4 and 1.
6. On Christmas day, as we pulled into my sister's driveway, Doug turned to me and asked me to marry him. He had asked before, and I'd always said not yet. My prior experience, as you may know, was horrid. But in that moment, his face said something different, and my mouth said something different too. I said Yes. And then, because I am kate, I proceeded to freak the fuck out for several days of inconsolable grief. Fucking PTSD. Anyway, I surfaced slowly, and realized that perhaps if a marriage signified what already is, is a celebration of a commitment that already exists and a relationship that is already loving and supportive, maybe I do not have to be so scared. Don't ask me for a date, I'm not quite that evolved yet. But I am very happy in my own quiet neurotic way and so very lucky to be with this wonderful person.
7. I peed on a stick this morning at 4:45. It was negative. I got back into bed, told Doug who pulled me close. I could not sleep, lay there tortured and grief stricken and heavy with sadness. Doug got up at 6ish, because he is crazy like that. And I stayed in bed, trying to sleep, trying very hard not to feel all I was feeling. I told myself I could choose to let this destroy me, or I could choose to handle it some other way. But I suck at that, and finally I dreamed some and fretted a lot, and basically felt the sucking hell of grief pulling be down. I hauled my ass out of bed at 9, was planning a heart pounding consolation hike.. had to pee again at 9:15. And just happened to look at the stick I'd left on the sink from the 4:45 peeing and....
there was the faintest ever second line. Evaporation line, I said to myself. Fucking cruel joke universe, ha ha. But I peed on another stick anyway because I had to even though it was only a few hours later.
And there was a very very faint second line.
Holy shit people. In this moment, this one, this very moment, however faintly, I am pregnant.
Some of the many beautiful bloggers in my universe:
Maredsous Just had her DE FET yesterday! PUPO baby.
Traci Twin monsters on board!
Peanut Noodle (Lara) Pregnant!
K gestating twins!
B expecting Ishkabibble any day now!
Kate of Impatiently Waiting 38 weeks!
Jem of Ambivalent Womb, currently going through several levels of hell.
Thanks for the sweet award!
Award rules:
1) Thank the person(s) who nominated you for this award
2) Copy the award and place it in your blog
3) Link to the person(s) who nominated you for this award
4) Tell us 7 interesting things about you
5) Nominate 7 bloggers and link to their blogs
1. For about 8 years of my childhood, from 1st through 8th grade, I grew up on a small (4 acres maybe) subsistence farm in Connecticut, in a yuppy preppy town. We had a cow, chickens, rabbits, pigs, geese, a horse, a pony, amazing gardens tended by my mom, a big green stake bed truck. We had apple trees with tiny bitter yellow warty fruit, and lilac bushes, and secret paths. We had a hay barn, and two cats, and a dog. We had concord grape vines, and a semi circular gravel driveway that flanked an open field. It was the coolest place in the world, and I dream of it so often, I am often surprised when I wake and find myself elsewhere. I changed schools a lot during those years, so home for me was the stable thing. A climbing tree (a sturdy maple), a red maple that held one end of the rope hammock, a rain barrel, a magnolia tree. A rickety above ground pool that saved our asses many a hot summer day. The town we lived in was not filled with farms, I was the only farm kid I knew except my sister. I remember bringing a chicken to school with me one day for show and tell. I remember I brought it in a hoover vacuum box. A lot about my childhood sucked ass-- I was sick a lot with belly issues (colitis), school stressed me out horribly, and it was just really hard for me being out in the world since I never knew when I would be stuck in the bathroom or in a crisis trying to find one. But home? The farm? I cannot tell you what it meant to me.
2. When I started college I thought I would be a modern dancer since it was something I was enjoying doing, it was not a choice so much as a default- then I got injured and had to reassess. It was impossible for me to imagine what I would want to do- I've never had a calling, never had one outstanding talent, never had a when-I-grow-up-I'll..... so, so much of my life has felt accidental and reactive-- responding to what comes up, situations or opportunities that arise. After the injury I had a bunch of aptitude tests done and the fellow doing the testing said that I had great 3-D visualization ability, perhaps I should consider Imaging Science... the time came for a change, and I went to a new school, took Imaging Science. I graduated in a shitty economy and took the first job offered-- and began a career that I have never ever felt passionately about. I became an expert in something now obsolete, but it lead me through jobs at three companies- the last is the one I am at now. I have been here for 12 years. I love my coworkers (love working with smart people!) and love working with customers, love technical troubleshooting, love helping make things work. But I do not love what I do. And I have always felt that there are pieces missing, like I took a wrong turn and am not quite lost but a few blocks away from where I should be.
3. I've been talking with my sister a lot lately about how we thought that if we were nice, tried hard, followed the rules, that we would succeed. And we've both come to the realization that the ones who really succeed are those who question and push and ask for more than what is offered, dream new things, test boundaries or simply not believe in them, are nice perhaps but not as a rule... and it is a hard thing to learn at this late date that what I should have been learning is risk taking, dreaming big, trial and error, learning that failing is OK, try again, try something else.
4. I have always feared failure. It has kept me from trying new things, exploring, and I do not think I regret too many things more than this. I wish I had grown up in the generation of video games, fail and try again is part of the process of playing, it is expected, it is not a show stopper, it does not mean you are unworthy or an idiot or a failure.....I wish I had known I would live through failure. I did not fail a class until college where I got a D. And I honestly did not know what to do- it was a required class, calc 3, infinite series, what the hell.... I had to take it. So I took it again as a audit, and then, I took it again for credit. I may have a fear of failure but apparently I also have tenacity. But only because I had to. I wonder who I would have become if I had somehow learned to fear less and risk more, and realize that failure is often a part of learning, and it was separate from my kateness.
5. I've written about this before. I love food. Being gluten free, dairy free, egg free has been such a pain in the ass. I miss food, I miss cheese, I miss bread, I miss making bread and baking. I am not much of a cook at all, but I sure do love baking. So since the dietary change, I have felt bereft, have found some things that are ok, but also realize that eating has lost a lot of joy for me. I am trying very hard to find things I love-- I made a great turkey meatloaf twice now that is really great. made a chocolate cake that was DIVINE but nearly killed me (still not sure what thing caused me trouble)-- the issue is not that I will stop breathing, but that I will be incapacitated with horrible belly issues, pain, and be stuck in the bathroom. So I cannot experiment too much. I want to identify 15 great meals, and several really yummy count-on-it treats. So far I've got about 4 and 1.
6. On Christmas day, as we pulled into my sister's driveway, Doug turned to me and asked me to marry him. He had asked before, and I'd always said not yet. My prior experience, as you may know, was horrid. But in that moment, his face said something different, and my mouth said something different too. I said Yes. And then, because I am kate, I proceeded to freak the fuck out for several days of inconsolable grief. Fucking PTSD. Anyway, I surfaced slowly, and realized that perhaps if a marriage signified what already is, is a celebration of a commitment that already exists and a relationship that is already loving and supportive, maybe I do not have to be so scared. Don't ask me for a date, I'm not quite that evolved yet. But I am very happy in my own quiet neurotic way and so very lucky to be with this wonderful person.
7. I peed on a stick this morning at 4:45. It was negative. I got back into bed, told Doug who pulled me close. I could not sleep, lay there tortured and grief stricken and heavy with sadness. Doug got up at 6ish, because he is crazy like that. And I stayed in bed, trying to sleep, trying very hard not to feel all I was feeling. I told myself I could choose to let this destroy me, or I could choose to handle it some other way. But I suck at that, and finally I dreamed some and fretted a lot, and basically felt the sucking hell of grief pulling be down. I hauled my ass out of bed at 9, was planning a heart pounding consolation hike.. had to pee again at 9:15. And just happened to look at the stick I'd left on the sink from the 4:45 peeing and....
there was the faintest ever second line. Evaporation line, I said to myself. Fucking cruel joke universe, ha ha. But I peed on another stick anyway because I had to even though it was only a few hours later.
And there was a very very faint second line.
Holy shit people. In this moment, this one, this very moment, however faintly, I am pregnant.
Some of the many beautiful bloggers in my universe:
Maredsous Just had her DE FET yesterday! PUPO baby.
Traci Twin monsters on board!
Peanut Noodle (Lara) Pregnant!
K gestating twins!
B expecting Ishkabibble any day now!
Kate of Impatiently Waiting 38 weeks!
Jem of Ambivalent Womb, currently going through several levels of hell.
11 February 2010
today
20 years ago today Nelson Mandela was released from prison
It is Sarah Palin's birthday. Good lord.
It is also Sheryl Crow's
and Jennifer Aniston's
and Taylor Lautner is finally 18.
and me?
I am 43.
It is Sarah Palin's birthday. Good lord.
It is also Sheryl Crow's
and Jennifer Aniston's
and Taylor Lautner is finally 18.
and me?
I am 43.
10 February 2010
Happy
We have two beautiful embryos, truly. The first time I have seen a photo--how totally magical.
Acupuncture before and after, felt like I was doing what I needed to.
The transfer sucked ass but then, they always do for me. The doc was wonderful (yes, Lara, it was your most wonderful doc!), the threading of the catheter through my cervix is always hell, and it was this time too. So maddeningly painful and I wish it were different. But it only was ok once and that was from someone who knew my cervix well....
But, all went well besides the threading, and we are just home a little while ago-- it was a long day away. It is dark now, but the new snow was so lovely and not too troublesome since it looks like only an inch or so and the roads were nearly empty of other cars.
I'm resting on the sofa and I feel so blissed out excited optimistic chemically positive that it is almost a rush in itself to just feel this way. Happy, one could say.
Yeah,
that.
I'm happy.
Holy crap people, I could get used to this.
I want to write deep things about context and hope but those can wait until tomorrow.
tonight, I am just going to marinate in feeling so damned good.
thank you so much for your kind wishes and support, everyone. It means so much to know you're hoping for me/with me.
Acupuncture before and after, felt like I was doing what I needed to.
The transfer sucked ass but then, they always do for me. The doc was wonderful (yes, Lara, it was your most wonderful doc!), the threading of the catheter through my cervix is always hell, and it was this time too. So maddeningly painful and I wish it were different. But it only was ok once and that was from someone who knew my cervix well....
But, all went well besides the threading, and we are just home a little while ago-- it was a long day away. It is dark now, but the new snow was so lovely and not too troublesome since it looks like only an inch or so and the roads were nearly empty of other cars.
I'm resting on the sofa and I feel so blissed out excited optimistic chemically positive that it is almost a rush in itself to just feel this way. Happy, one could say.
Yeah,
that.
I'm happy.
Holy crap people, I could get used to this.
I want to write deep things about context and hope but those can wait until tomorrow.
tonight, I am just going to marinate in feeling so damned good.
thank you so much for your kind wishes and support, everyone. It means so much to know you're hoping for me/with me.
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