Yes, that's it.

I came across this poem, "The Spot" by Holly Day, this afternoon. (Scroll down to the bottom of the page; it won't let me link to the individual poem.)

Yes, that's exactly how it feels. It'll be three years next month (and my first would have turned four at the beginning of this month) but that feeling came back fresh as the moment it happened.

Fair warning: this poem will probably make you cry. But I think it's a cathartic cry.

A bit peckish.

My sister had her third baby this week. I am valiantly restraining myself from packing my suitcase right now because my flight to go visit her and help take care of my niecephews isn't until next week and I don't want to be living out of a suitcase for that long. I am beyond thrilled for her.

Other friends and acquaintances have been having babies recently, too. I coo and ooh and ahh and gloat over pictures of teeny toes and fuzzy heads. And I'm thrilled for them, too.

But I can feel the baby hunger starting to come on.

It's not quite here yet. At most you could say I'm starting to feel like maybe I'll need a little snack in the next little while. But I'm pretty sure after a week of snuggling a cute little brand-new-fresh baby that the hunger's going to kick it up a notch. Or seven.

And a week of watching my cute older nephew and niece play with each other and my Little Guy is not going to do much to alleviate the desire I have to see what a great big brother he would be.


* * *



After we moved to Tampa I had to transfer my birth control prescription to a local pharmacy. I did this well in advance, feeling proud of myself for being so on top of things.

And then I nearly forgot to pick it up. When I finally remembered, it was only because I had to start a new packet THAT day. I thought to myself, "It's sure lucky that I have the car today or I wouldn't be able to get there before the pharmacy closes! And then THAT would have caused probl—"

Oh, wait.

This is me we're talking about here. The girl who was on no form of birth control whatsoever for nearly four years before that whole pregnancy thing worked out.

The chances of it making any difference whatsoever if I forgot to refill my prescription are minuscule at best. I sometimes don't know why I'm even bothering to take the pills when experience shows they're probably not necessary.


* * *


I don't want a new baby quite yet. The baby hunger hasn't really started up . . . yet.

But it was frustrating to realize—again—that when I DO want one, when I'm so baby hungry I could explode, it's not going to be simple, like grabbing myself a quick PBJ to tide me over until dinner. Or not refilling my birth control prescription.

*sigh*




But still, on the bright side: I GET TO SNUGGLE MY NEW NIECE IN LESS THAN A WEEK! Must . . . control . . . packing . . . urges. . . .

What might have been.

Today marks the second anniversary of my missed due date.

I spent it taking care of a busy little toddler, doing laundry, fighting off a headache and, from time to time, thinking about what might have been.

The emotions are complicated. I'm sad that we didn't have a second birthday party today. I miss the little one I never met.

But I found out I was pregnant with the Little Guy exactly 17 days after my due date. If the first pregnancy had worked out, what would that have meant for the Little Guy? I don't know how it works with pregnancy loss and the other side; whether each pregnancy is a separate soul or if it's multiple tries for the same soul to come to earth. I just don't know. I don't like the thought of the Little Guy being in any way involved with the miscarriage. But the sheer number of what-might-have-beens in this scenario make me a little dizzy.

In some ways it's easier to think about what might have been with my first miscarriage. That child would be three and a half now, with no overlap between either of my other pregnancies. It's easier to view as a separate instance without worrying about what may or may not have happened if I hadn't lost the pregnancy.

But with #2 and the Little Guy, there's no possibility that we could have had both at the times we did. And that makes me think about what is and what might have been, and the only conclusion I can come to is that I am so grateful that I have the Little Guy, no matter how it came to happen.

So I'll have a moment of silence and maybe a tear or two for my missing little ones, and then give two extra kisses to my son, and content myself with not knowing the whys and wherefores for the time being. Time enough to worry later about what might have been; for now I'll just give thanks for what is.

Dear Santa, revised.

I wrote you a letter a couple of years back. I'd like you to please have one of your elves dig it out from the files and dust it off. Then I'd appreciate it if you could carefully read it through and consider it my letter for this year.

Except it's not for me.

All you have to do is change the names—and with your naughty/nice/asleep/awake omniscience, I know you know who I'm talking about—and you'll have my Christmas wish this year.

You really came through for me with that letter I wrote in 2009. Do you think you could see your way clear to pulling that same kind of miracle out of your magic bag this coming year?

I'll leave you the extra-special cookies. And again, I know you know the kind I'm talking about.

Thank you in advance—it'll be the best Christmas gift ever.

Yours, &c.

Darkness and Light

Today we went to see the Carl Bloch exhibit at the BYU Museum of Art.

Incidentally, the whole experience of seeing the exhibit was yet another confirmation that I am turning into my mother, as I started crying pretty much the second we walked in. Luckily, my mother is awesome so I'm good to go. (Note to my mother: Mom, I'm sorry for all those times when I teased you about your crying. Please come watch Tangled with me sometime and I give you full leave to laugh at me as I bawl my way through three-quarters of that movie. Seriously. It happens every. Single. Time.)

The Spirit hit me as we walked around the corner to see the giant picture of The Doubting Thomas (see the first picture in this article) and it only got stronger as we went through the exhibit. Of course Christ Healing the Sick at Bethesda is a favorite and a common sight in nearly any LDS meetinghouse around the world, and I loved Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane (one wonders who the angel was).

But then I saw The Daughter of Jairus.

You can see a more detailed version here.

I wish the placard text for this picture was available so I could give it to you exactly, but it went something like this:

Instead of focusing on the moment of healing when Christ raises the daughter of Jairus from the dead, the artist instead shows the moment of deepest despair. The grieving mother has sat with her daughter all night, mourning for her death, until the light of dawn is creeping into the sky through the open door. With that light comes life. Christ is seen in the doorway and the moment of the miracle approaches.

So much of life and infertility is filled with those moments of deepest despair. I have wept many nights. I have spent sleepless nights knowing that the small hope growing inside me has gone. I have grieved for my missing daughters and sons.

But with light comes life.

Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.

This painting brought back to me full force the remembrance that Christ knows our every suffering and every pain, and has taken them all upon Himself. In this painting, He is coming to take them away from this mother and bring her joy again.

I was reading a recent blog post about The Days Before—those days before the Big Days that change our lives ("Tomorrow, when our lives changed," the author says). The post specifically mentioned some happy days before bad or difficult news came, but this painting also reminded me that there are the other Days Before. The last dark days before the light comes. I remember the last few days and months before each of my positive pregnancy tests. I remember the terrifying day before my first ultrasound with the Little Guy, when I was certain that it would all come crashing down around us again. And I treasure those days now, because they are made precious by what came after.

Because I lived through the dark, I was able to drink in the light more deeply, with more wonder and thankfulness.

With light came life.

The ultrasound proved that the Little Guy was there and healthy and we saw that amazing, beautiful heartbeat for the first time.

Christ has brought joy into my life in countless ways, not the least of which are my husband and son, and I thank Him every day for it. But I also am learning to thank Him for the darkness that comes before the dawn. Because of that darkness, I look at this painting and see not only the affirmation that Christ is the light, but that he is in ALL things, and that our knowledge cannot be made perfect until after the trial of our faith.

With light comes life, but it is the darkness before that lets us know the light best.

Birth story

For those of you who are interested but haven't already seen it, the story of the Little Guy's birth can be found here, here, and here. It's kind of ridiculously long, but then so was labor.

Three poems by Grace Noll Crowell

Today is the first day of National Poetry Month. Orson Scott Card has a post about it on his blog, which includes several poems by Grace Noll Crowell. I hadn't been familiar with her work before (although she did write the words of the hymn "Because I Have Been Given Much"), but three of the poems especially struck a chord with me in relation to the feelings and struggles of infertility and miscarriage, so I wanted to share them with you all.



I think that God is proud of those who bear
A sorrow bravely -- proud indeed of them
Who walk straight through the dark to find Him there
And kneel in faith to touch His garment's hem.
Oh, proud of them who lift their heads to shake
Away the tears from eyes that have grown dim,
Who tighten quivering lips and turn to take
The only road they know that leads to Him.
How proud He must be of them -- He who knows
All sorrow, and how hard grief is to bear!
I think He sees them coming, and He goes
With outstretched arms and hands to meet them there,
And with a look, a touch on hand or head,
Each finds his hurt heart strangely comforted.


A Prayer for Courage
by Grace Noll Crowell

God, make me brave for life,
Oh, braver than this!
Let me straighten after pain
As a tree straightens after the rain,
Shining and lovely again.
God, make me brave for life,
Much braver than this!
As the blown grass lifts let me rise
From sorrow with quiet eyes,
Knowing thy way is wise.
God, make me brave. Life brings
Such blinding things.
Help me to keep my sight,
Help me to see aright,
That out of the dark comes light.



This, too, will pass. O heart, say it over and over,
Out of your deepest sorrow, out of your deepest grief,
No hurt can last forever -- perhaps tomorrow will bring relief.
This, too, will pass. It will spend itself -- its fury
Will die as the wind dies down with the setting sun.
Assuaged and calm, you will rest again,
Forgetting a thing that is done.
Repeat it again and again, O heart for your comfort:
This, too, will pass as surely as passed before
The old forgotten pain, and the other sorrows
That once you bore.
As certain as stars at night, or dawn after darkness,
Inherent as the lift of the blowing grass,
Whatever your despair or your frustration,
This, too, will pass.

—Grace Noll Crowell

Dear Santa.

Dear Santa,

Remember last year?

Well, I just wanted to thank you for the iPod touch you sent me.

It's sure come in handy since the other gift I asked for arrived. (I forgot to mention last year that one of the perks of the iPod is that you only need one hand to use it. Same with my Kindle, even though Shallow Man, rather than you, gave that to me for our anniversary/law school graduation/Mother's Day.)

So, since I got everything on my list, I really don't have anything I want to ask you for this Christmas (at least not for myself. But I trust you'll bring something special for the Little Guy).

But don't worry, I'll still leave out milk and cookies for you. The way I figure it, the way you came through this year, you've definitely earned them.

Respectfully and very gratefully yours, & cetera.



P.S. Oh, also? Remember how I mentioned how a firstborn child was a great gift idea because you could use it for bartering?

Well, after careful consideration of the firstborn son now sleeping on my lap, I take it back.

I wouldn't trade him for anything.

Checking in.

I haven't forgotten this blog, I promise. I've just been, well, busy. And being busy with a newborn, while it is lots of fun and provides cool things to blog about, isn't something I want to continually post about on this particular blog. I know that there were times before I had a child when other people had new babies and were so in love with them and didn't want to talk about anything else and while I was happy for them, it also hurt. I don't want to rub it in anyone's face, as it were.

But I will try to post on here more often in the future.

Not right now, because it's already late and I need to head to bed. But soon.

Surprise, surprise; or, he's here!

I don't have time (or energy) for a full post right now, but just wanted to let you all know that our little guy decided to make an early entrance (or it was decided for him after my blood pressure was dangerously high at my 36-week checkup). He arrived at 6:30 p.m. on Saturday night via c-section and is, quite simply, perfect. No complications for baby or for me so far. I'll share the full story later, but for now, here are my 1000 words:


Yeah, you just WISH your toes were that cute. :)

Checking in.

So it was pointed out to me that I haven't updated in a while. So I'm checking in.

We're at 33.5 weeks now and I am getting progressively more excited and panicky as the date approaches. I'm really looking forward to meeting our little guy, but still feel extremely unprepared. We're slowly but surely making progress on getting what wil be the nursery cleared out and ready for him, but it still has a way to go. Part of the problem is that while my nesting instincts are really kicking in, my energy levels are still pretty low (maybe it has something to do with the anemia? Or the fact that I'm just so cumbersome?) so it's harder to tackle big projects.

Speaking of cumbersome, I feel very big. (My daddy has started greeting me with the title "Great and Spacious One." If anyone else tries to call me that, though, there will be serious consequences.) I haven't gained too much weight this pregnancy (thanks to the brand-new weight loss program I discovered called "First Trimester") but the little guy is carrying really far forward so I stick out. A lot. I have to wash dishes standing sideways because my arms aren't long enough to really reach past my big tummy.

Sleeping is not working out so well. We're about to the point where I can sleep either in a comfortable position or in a position where I can breathe. I'm sleeping in 1.5-2 hour cycles and then have to get up several times during the night. My doctor says I can take Tylenol PM about three times a week to help out, but even then it mostly lengthens the cycles to 4 or 5 hours. I had one night this week where I was able to sleep straight through for 6.5 hours and it was amazing, but it hasn't happened again. The Tylenol does help ease the aches and pains so I don't wake up as stiff in the morning, though, which is also good.

It turned out that I do NOT have preeclampsia (big sigh of relief); just anemia and gestational diabetes (grumble). It hasn't been too much of a problem; it's more of an annoyance than anything else. My levels during the day were staying where they needed to be with diet and exercise but overnight my body always convinced itself that I was starving so my first-thing-in-the-morning levels were always pretty high, which means I have to take a pill to control it (no insulin shots, thank goodness). Unfortunately, because I'm on medication that means they have to monitor me more closely, so I have to go in twice a week to do non-stress tests. Other than the time commitment, though, I don't really mind this because it's a chance to briefly see the kid when they do the pre-test ultrasound to check my amniotic fluid levels, and getting to sit in those incredibly comfortable chairs which miraculously let me breathe AND be comfortable for 30-45 minutes in a semi-darkened room where I can just read and listen to baby's heartbeat is okay by me. It's seriously one of the most relaxing times of my day. (Baby doesn't particularly enjoy it when they have to wake him up with the buzzer to measure his elevated heart rates, though. He's definitely not going to be a morning person; his first experience with the buzzer brought on a tantrum that more than fulfilled the requirement for baby movement during the test and left me giggling because it is kind of hilarious to see my tummy moving like that.)

The main annoyance I have with the GD situation is the weariness of testing 5-6 times a day and having to eat at those regularly scheduled times with all the new dietary restrictions. Carbs and I have always been BFFs and now that I have to carefully monitor how many I'm getting I keep getting confronted (bombarded, really) with ads for donuts or bread or cupcakes or potatoes or whatnot. Also, my main craving during this pregnancy and one of the only things I could reliably count on to keep nausea at bay has been juice. And juice has so many carbs that it's not even worth it now. Also I have to be careful on my fruit levels because of all those natural sugars. So my diet options have become limited and frustrating even though my stomach's nausea-induced picky eating hasn't really subsided. So it's a bit frustrating and I have been spending the last few weeks telling Shallow Man "When the baby comes and I can eat again, we're going to get milkshakes/have an eclair/eat more waffles than you can shake a stick at/get drunk on orange juice/etc."

With all of that, though, I really do love being pregnant, even if I'm not overly fond of the side effects of pregnancy. I love feeling baby kick and wiggle and move around (as long as he doesn't try to dislodge my spleen or start tickling me while I'm driving). I love seeing him move. I love cuddling up next to Shallow Man and having him feel baby go crazy-go-nuts. I love registering for tiny socks (and big hats because our child has a large noggin. The doctor at the first post-diabetes ultrasound was a little worried about his head measurement until she saw Shallow Man's head and heard that we both have a hard time finding hats that fit) and looking at cribs and strollers. I love the sudden realizations that come over me at various times during the day, like "Oh, I'm going to need to get him a stocking for Christmas" or "I will have a TINY BABY to dress up for Halloween this year! Score!" or "If I want to go see that play that's coming in December I will need to arrange for a babysitter then." It's a wonderful feeling to know that our family is growing and that we've made it farther than I thought we would this time last year.

Of course there are feelings of nervousness, too, when I remember what has to happen to actually get the little guy out in public. But I'm finding it's easier to be calm when I focus on the fact that the end result will be, quite frankly, the most awesome baby the world has seen, at least in the last couple of millenia. We can hardly wait to meet our son!


(And I have to admit I'm looking forward to re-discovering what it's like to stand up without having to wait for gravity to finish re-arranging my internal organs and occupant, which inevitably results in my bladder getting squished, followed by a rapid waddle towards the bathroom.)

Mixed bag; or, Potpourri.

So up until this point my pregnancy has been progressing pretty normally, except with more nausea and vomiting than I personally would care for. (Yeah, remember when I thought I liked the second trimester? Second trimester LIED. That was NOT a beautiful relationship.)

Apparently my body was just saving up the real drama, because after a ridiculous amount of poking and prodding and blood-drawing and other totally fun stuff (my poor arms have bruises inside both elbows from the six times they had to draw blood last week) it has been determined that I am anemic. And have gestational diabetes. And we're waiting to hear back on the preeclampsia thing.

Yeah. And yee-haw.

I'm not too worried at the moment—saving that for when there's actually a need to be worried—but I am annoyed. Wouldn't you know that the minute my time frees up to do some of that baking I've been wanting to do during the months of bar study that I'm suddenly not allowed to eat cookies and such anymore? Good grief.

But that anemia thing does explain the absolutely dead-beat, bone-tired, no energy thing. And the iron supplements have helped a lot with that. So that's something.

But the good news is that 1) we have a name for the kid. Which I will NOT be sharing on the internet. Which means I need to figure out an appropriate alias for him. Drat. More naming. Hm. 2) We've got a battle plan for the nursery and are actually getting some work done on it (still trying to decide if this plan will involve painting or not) and 3) the kid is getting big enough that I can feel all sorts of fun movement.

Luckily he hasn't figured out where my ribs are yet, and has turned around so he's not kicking any nerves anymore, so most of the movement is of the "whoa, cool" or "ARGH! That tickles!" variety. I admit that I have certain visuals for certain types of movement. Besides the Jackie Chan/ninja kicks and the punching bag moves, we also have the "squirrelly squirrel!" genre (mostly the first 15 seconds or so):



And what I like to refer to as his "stoutness exercises":



He also, today, did something that I swear felt like he sneezed. I guess he's doing his job to help me fight off the nasty cold that Shallow Man gave me. Thanks for the support, kiddo! (Also, it was just so dang cute. Love that little guy.)

Another brief restrospective; or, PICTURES!

Again, a wonderful comparison of then and now:

This time last year I was almost done with the week of limbo between finding out there was no heartbeat and actually miscarrying.

Today we went in for our follow-up ultrasound. It's still a boy, he's still healthy (and they could see everything they needed to; this time he was much more cooperative), and we are still thrilled.

But because my time is limited these days and I need to get back to studying, I won't take the time now to write down all my happy thoughts. Instead, I'll leave you with these. Consider this your 2,000 word post. :)

Profile (love the lips!):


Face (he has British cheeks):

Come a long way.

A year ago today, we sat in an unwelcoming room waiting to hear the news, knowing what was coming but somehow praying that the outcome would be different, that somehow the little heartbeat they hadn't found was really there after all.

This morning, I woke up stiff and sore because there's no way to sleep comfortably right now, and felt the little guy start his morning kickboxing routine.

A year ago, I could never have envisioned that we'd be where we are now.

We've come a long way.


There are a lot of things I want to post about, but we're both studying for the bar exam this month and so they'll mostly have to wait. Sorry in advance for any perceived or real neglect, and I'll see you in August.

It's a . . .

Baby was curled up, face down, just like a potato bug, and we weren't sure we were going to be able to find out the flavor at first. (In fact, we're going to need to get a second ultrasound in a few more weeks since that position meant the technician couldn't get as detailed a view of the heart as she wanted. She said not to worry, because everything she could see looked great and healthy, but they're interested in more detail right now. So we're going to have to go in and see our little one again. Oh, darn. :) How will we ever handle that?)

So we took a little break so I could poke around and see if we could get baby to wake up or shift position a bit. Mostly what I got for my pains was a half-hearted little kick to the bladder ("Leave me alone, Mom! Five more minutes.") But then baby rolled to the side for a moment or two, just long enough to get a little peek at . . .

Technician: And see there? That's between the legs.

Me: (thinking: But that's a . . .)

*pause*

Me: We're having a boy?

Yep, that's right -- it's a boy! This actually came as a pretty big surprise to us, since we've both felt pretty strongly from the beginning, and even before that, that this baby was a girl. We had even had a prompting about what her name was supposed to be. This meant that we hadn't really seriously thought about boys' names this time around.

We're very excited to be getting a little boy (I have three adorable nephews and love them all to bits. Although this does mean that my one little niece is going to be even more outnumbered now). But I am panicking just a bit because I have no idea what we're going to call him. And if we can't come up with a more viable option soon, he may just end up being Axel Danger or Commander Awesome. And while that's a name that, once you're an adult, means nobody will mess with you, EVER, you still have to survive to adulthood with that name.

So, welcome to our family, little guy. We love you more than you can imagine, and we can't wait to meet you. And I promise we'll figure out a better moniker than just "hey, you there, boy" by the time you make your grand appearance.


Baby boy celebrated the big reveal by doing a lengthy Rockettes impression last night, so Shallow Man got to feel a lot of real kicking, which he hasn't really been able to do up till now. So much fun!

The big day; or, A Poll.

So folks, today's the big day. We're getting our ultrasound this afternoon and get to find out what flavor of baby we're having. So place your bets! I'll let you all know when we find out.

Super-quick thought

So I've reached 19 weeks now and am almost at the halfway point and am completely freaked out by this picture here.

Really, do they have to make my baby look quite that, well, claustrophobic?

Honestly.

At any rate, my hopelessly squished baby and I are off to bed. With any luck I can sleep through until next week when baby starts looking much less desperately uncomfortable.

Really, now, illustrators, who thought that was a good plan?

Quick thought: Mother's Day.

This year will be the first time I have been pregnant on Mother's Day. But I still remember all the other years and want to take this moment to say that I am thinking of and praying for all of my friends who are struggling with miscarriage or infertility. For many years I couldn't go to church on Mother's Day because it was too much. I know it's hard, and I know there's not always much you can do about it. But I want to assure you all that you are loved, and wish you a happy (if bittersweet) day just the same. Peace be with you.

Finally.

I've got a lot of blog posts that have been brewing for the last month but haven't been written yet because of finals and projects and sickness and such. And I'm not writing them tonight, either, because I'm reveling in the fact that I don't have anything I have to do right now (WAHOO for graduation!).

But I did want to make an important announcement here:

Today I did not have to take any anti-nausea medication.

Yes.

Second trimester appears to be here and loving life. And I am loving the second trimester so far. Never been this far before, but I think it may be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Update

They found the heartbeat right off. I mean RIGHT off. (Baby is definitely a show-off.)

If you felt a large gust of near-gale force wind this morning around 9:30, that was us breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Thank you for the prayers! It means a lot.