Tuesday, December 11, 2007


I am still here, just losing my mind. I've been really sick. I have a severe sinus infection. The doctor seems to think it was brought on by pollutants and allergens from the construction.

Oh yes, the construction. I finally caved and had a chat with the construction guys last week. Seems my landlord is building a 3 family house in my backyard. This after they started showing up and doing work 8 feet from my head at 7am. Sawing and soldering metal, using a backhoe, hammering...you get the picture. The smell alone is ungodly. I've already made calls to the Department of Environmental Protection. I emailed the landlord about my concerns - could we maybe get a timeline of how long this project will last? Could she maybe ask the guys not to show up before 9am? I mentioned that I was nearing the end of a high risk pregnancy and that there were health concerns as well as the idea of bringing an infant home here to this racket. I also mentioned that the house seems to have settled some and that I noticed a crack in the wall of the baby's room-to-be. She emailed me back with a congratulations, ignored all of my concerns and told me she's sending someone to look at that wall and to please let him in. He's already cancelled twice in less than a week. He's due to show up tomorrow...we'll see. Anyway, it's clear that she's all about protecting her investment, no worries about the people who pay an unbelievable amount of rent. Marc and I talked on Friday after I had an almost complete nervous breakdown (that will happen when you lose 2+ hours of sleep you depend on every night) and we decided that maybe we should look into moving. We looked at places over the weekend and we are signing a lease on Thursday. It's right up the block from my mom, it's a gorgeous prewar 2 bedroom for hundreds less than we pay here, plus we won't have to pay heat (like we do here). Meanwhile, this sinus infection was diagnosed today as a result of the serious changes to my environment, plus the stress level is not allowing my body to heal, and given my history, this seems like the best plan.

So we're moving at the end of the month. That gives me less than 3 weeks to pack up the entire apartment, hire movers, and change the cable, the electricity, etc over to the new apartment. I'm telling the landlord tomorrow. The expired lease says that we need to give her 30 days, but what-the-fuck-ever. I was on the Department of Buildings website checking out the new place to make sure there weren't serious landlord-tenant issues and I checked on my current landlord. Turns out she filed for this permit back in MAY. She knew for over 6 months she'd be doing this construction. Three weeks notice is plenty as far as I'm concerned.

Once we're moved, then I can find a new OB. Did I mention mine decided it was time to move south and I don't have one anymore? I have no OB and I'm moving and I'm almost 29 weeks pregnant? I'm supposed to have a c-section in 9 weeks.

Saturday, November 24, 2007


I am a hateful person. People just don't get it, and I'm sick of being polite. If you do not have a dead baby, you are not qualified to tell me how to raise any living ones I might get the opportunity to bring home. Doing so may result in violence and bodily harm.

1. I will not be getting rid of my six kitties just because I'm bringing a baby home. I had no intention of getting rid of them when we were expecting Gregory, and I have no intention of getting rid of them now that we're expecting his brother. They are my family! They are the only ones who let me grieve on my own terms when G died. They are the protectors of my belly while I sleep. Do I have concerns? Sure! I am concerned that in an attempt to protect/warm/love Bubba, a kitty could inadvertantly smother him. There are ways to avoid this. I am concerned since Marc and I are both allergic to cats (and M is asthmatic) that there are potential issues, but everything I've read says exposure to cats in infancy and early childhood will help to prevent the allergy. I do not have to ban my cats from the bedrooms, give them to other people, or make them outdoor cats. I'm sorry you felt it was necessary to get rid of your cats/dogs/turtles/hamsters when you brought your child home, but my husband and I made a commitment to our animals that we intend to keep. We love them, and that doesn't just get tossed out the window because we bring a new toy home.

2. Raising my arms above my head will not kill my child. I get that your elderly mother is from a small isolated village in the old country and that old wives' tales are common, but you are an educated young woman who was born and raised in America. Do you really think that doing that is going to cause the umbilical cord to wrap around Bubba's neck and strangle him? That must mean I did something similar to kill Gregory.

3. I am not excited to be a mother. I will not labor for 2 days because that's what you did with your first child. I am not depriving myself of giving birth by opting for a repeat section. I have children. Sadly, they are dead. This is not my first pregnancy or my first childbirth. The child I did give birth to was dead. The only thing I'm depriving myself of by opting for surgery is some uncertainty during this scary time.

4. I will not change my tune or feel differently once I have children. Just because you did something one way does not mean it will work that way for my family. I am not 'paranoid' about SIDS or 'overreacting' about RSV. There is medical evidence that may indicate my child is at higher risk for SIDS. You live in a warm climate with your healthy child who was the result of a surprise conception and textbook pregnancy. I doubt you'd like it very much if I ended every conversation with "well, you'll see it differently when you hold your lifeless child in your arms".

5. No, I will not feel guilty if I enjoy this child. Why would you say that to me? I love Gregory so much my heart feels like it will burst. I love his brother just as much. I do not feel I am betraying one son to love the other. Would you say that to a mother of a living child? No. So don't say it to me.

6. Shut up. I am sick of listening to you complain about how horrible your children are. The reason your child is up at 3am is because you let him get away with it night after night. Maybe your life would be a little bit easier if you (for once) opted for the slightly more difficult road of being a parent to your children instead of letting them get away with murder. Your child is not going through a phase. Phases do not last 3 years. Maybe if you taught your child the meaning of the word 'no', they'd understand it. Once you get all that under control, then maybe I'll consider listening to your advice on child rearing.

7. I'm so glad that in your family/culture/cult, it's common to breastfeed/bottlefeed/cosleep. I enjoy hearing about what led you to make the decisions you did as a parent. However, I do not think something is wrong with me because I choose to send my child to daycare. There is not something lacking in my parenting skills because I choose to breastfeed until 3 months or 3 years. My boobs, my baby, my choice. I do not have to defend my choices as a parent to you.

7a. Furthermore, do not cop a dismissive tone with me when you realize I made/will make a different choice than you. Just because I choose to walk down a different path than you does not mean I am saying your decisions were questionable. When you get defensive and snippy, it only tells me that you are insecure about your own choices. When you become passive-aggressive or pitch a fit because my views differ from yours, it makes me want to spend less time in your company.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007


I think I'm losing my mind. Here's a summary of why:

1. My mother is crazy, and I think it's contagious.
2. This crap with working from the office has come back up, and with it, my blood pressure has skyrocketed. Where the hell am I going to put an infant? Daycare is damn expensive near me, and I hadn't planned for this at all.
3. Did I mention that I haven't been at this job for a year, so I'm probably not going to qualify for maternity leave? If I have to go into the office, I'm going to lose all of the vacation and sick days I've been saving towards my maternity leave just because I have NO immune system. Craptacular. Which means I'm either going to go broke or have to go back to work 3 weeks postpartum.
4. I have survived the second coming of the plague, but now I'm dealing with daily bloody noses, thanks to having to turn on my heat. Heat, which by the way, serves to keep my entire neighborhood warm because my landlord can't be bothered to put anything but inside doors on the three doors into my apartment.
5. I have lost all semblance of privacy. I live in a two family house, and we have the ground floor. The landlord has decided she's not going to bother landscaping the backyard as promised, but she's going to build something out there instead, with no notice. So now I have like 8 construction workers in and out of my normally quiet and empty house at the end of my dead end street for 8 hours a day. And the backhoe is so close to my apartment that I can reach out of my kitchen window and touch it. We are moving after the boy-child arrives. This is ridiculous for the amount of rent we pay.
6. Grandma is home from the nursing home! Hooray! However, we have no idea if we are having Thanksgiving at her house (with Marc cooking and transporting the food over). So we don't know if we are even having Thanksgiving.

I need a nap. A beer and a cigarette wouldn't hurt either.

Friday, November 9, 2007

One more thing...

Thanks for the words of encouragement lately. It really does suck and it really is unfair, but it's oddly comforting knowing that there are other people out there who can actually understand exactly what's going on inside my sick twisted mind.


Again with the fricking plague. Arrgh. I haven't been able to breathe through my nose since Sunday. I even skipped my OB appt today - it was a choice between sleeping or getting a flu shot that would have made me feel even worse.

Prayers for two different girls this week: a friend out west gave birth via emergency c-section on Wednesday to her baby girl. The little girl has been having seizures since birth and has been moved to a NICU in another city. The mom has been through a lot in recent years and has a little boy at home as well. Another girl that I don't know, but know of, lost her three month old son a few days ago to SIDS. Please keep both these families in your prayers, for their physical, emotional and spiritual health.

Ok, I'm going back to bed. Yay for legal viability!

Saturday, November 3, 2007


All is well here on the froggy front. I went out on Thursday night with folks from my old job. I had a lot of fun, but eating dinner with friends can take a lot out of you when you haven't done anything more than vegitate on your couch for the last 6 months. This little boy has turned me into a little old lady - I choose sleep over almost anything else.

He's been moving a lot which is so reassuring. I can only feel him on my left side though! I have had numbness on the right half of my belly since my c-section with Gregory. It's so odd. I can see Bubba shift and kick on my right side, but can't feel it. I could probably stab myself with a fork and have no clue.

My sisters are coming over today to swoon over baby clothes and keep me company, since Marc has some big game tournament planned with friends. My sisters are huge hockey fans and bought Gregory his very own hockey jersey, with our last name and 06 on the back. Unfortunately, it has a bad habit of yellowing, so I need to get it framed fast, seeing as how its been more than a year. I am considering hanging it in Bubba's room, with Gregory's crucifix (it's a children's cross that rested on his coffin during his funeral). Decorating his room is harder than I thought it would be. I figured that since we moved here after Gregory died (ok, in part because Gregory died) it would be like starting fresh, but it's not. There's a bit of Gregory in everything. All of the furniture, some of the clothes, but really just the deja vu of preparing for another baby. It makes me feel like I've abandoned Gregory on some level, which I know is not true at all. I feel like I need to acknowledge him as we prepare for Bubba's arrival as we would if he hadn't died. All of this preparation has also brought to the front of my mind everything I'm missing out on. Halloween was two years since I found I was pregnant with Gregory. I remember hiding the test under a piece of paper and not looking at it, so afraid it would be negative. I remember giving out candy, feeling on top of the world, giddy about my secret. I remember Marc being so happy. And I'm just not at the point where I can think about all the happiness without thinking about all the sadness that followed. I have started talking to Bubba about Gregory a lot. I figure if I tell him often enough, then one day I might be able to do it without bawling.

Yeah, right.

Saturday, October 27, 2007


Sorry I haven't updated, sorry if I worried anyone! I got hit with the plague and it took me forever to recover. Luckily I work from home, so I didn't have to take sick days. I was waking up at 8:55 am and going back to bed by 6:30 pm. It started out with some sneezing, and then what felt like a low grade fever and exhaustion. By the end of day two, I was coughing and my head felt like it was filled with cement. By day four, I was coughing so hard I was vomitting with no warning. I've been feeling better since last weekend, but this week work kicked my ass. I'm finally coming out the other side of a crappy, tiring few weeks.

I've started working on the nursery. With Gregory, we had his baby shower and by the end of the week, he was gone. All of the clothes had been folded and put in drawers. They weren't touched until a few months later when we moved. I sat in the glider emptying the drawers into cardboard boxes. They were moved into the second bedroom of the new place and left there until this week. It was rough going through everything, but it was necessary. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the extra washing machine we've been hiding in there...

We have also decided on a name, which I'm keeping to myself for now because I'm afraid to share it, as if I'll jinx little Bubba. Marc and I each came up with our own list of names and then shared. We immediately vetoed a few names and managed to work our way down to two. Marc kept saying he wasn't sure which name, so in my infinite impatience, I flipped a coin. He protested that we couldn't name a child with a coin flip, but that's exactly what we've done. I have the quarter in a baby bottle in Bubba's room, waiting to be put in his baby book.

Thursday, October 4, 2007


Back from the big ultrasound...and we have a three vessel cord! And I guess we have to find a new nickname - it's not fair to call a little boy Beulah.

I'm over the effing moon!

Sunday, September 30, 2007


I'm having a bad day. At this point in time, I work fulltime from home. Part of the reason I accepted this position was because I could work from home. There are a few of us in my area who do this since the office near us is not large enough to accomodate our group. All this changed this week and now I'm being told I have to go work in the office - not all of us, just two of us. Everyone is pretty resistant to this change, but we sort of accept that it's going to happen and there isn't much we can do about it, besides make the transition benefit us. I spoke with the person who was charged with handing down this decision and explained why this is bad for me, including the fact that when the position was offered to me, they told me my salary was offset because I would be working from home. Right now we've let it up in the air, since we agree it's best to wait for my doctor to give me the all-clear to travel 3 hours a day and be more than 2 hours away from my hospital. I just feel so helpless. I had planned to have the baby home with me the first year so that I could nurse. Now I feel like the world has been turned upside down again. I went from 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with my child, with some help from a part-time nanny to having to put my child in daycare for 12 to 14 hours a day. I'm so angry, so despondent, so frustrated. Marc doesn't really understand because for him, nothing changes. I feel like I've lost something huge here. We have other options for childcare, like leaving the baby with his mom everyday, but that doesn't seem right to me. Which just leaves me back at square one, feeling really shitty and really helpless.

Saturday, September 29, 2007


I'll say right off the bat that everything is fine. Last night I had some contractions that were on the painful side. I never really got the point in labor with Gregory where I dealt with painful contractions. I'd been having contractions from about an hour after he died straight through, but they weren't very painful or regular. It wasn't until it was confirmed that he died that they even picked up, and within an hour or two I was in surgery. So last night I went and put my feet up on the couch and watched the Yankee game for a bit, and they went away. Had dinner, went to bed. I woke up around 2am and they were back. It felt a lot like gas pain, but it wouldn't go away. I'm on Z.ofran, and that can cause pretty bad constipation, so I thought maybe that had something to do with it. I definitely felt my uterus squeezing, and at points it felt similar to menstrual cramps. I was feeling pressure and the contractions were as frequent as 4 every ten minutes. I started checking my symptoms online, and preterm labor came up a number of times. When it still hadn't subsided by 5:30 am, I took a warm shower and called my doctor. He agreed that I needed to get checked out to be on the safe side. So off to L&D we went.

They monitored me from about 7am to 10:30am. They weren't picking up contractions on the monitor, but figure it might be uterine irritability. Beulah's heartbeat was in the 160s, which is what it's been consistently the entire pregnancy. So I'm back home with instructions to drink lots of water and to stay off my feet for the rest of the weekend. The hospital was hard - they were busy, so they'd run out of triage beds and I was in a recovery room. About an hour in I realized that I was in the exact same spot in the exact same recovery room as I was in after my c-section. I did get choked up at points, things felt so similar to when I went in the morning Gregory was born. Walking up to the desk to explain I was alarmed by something and my doctor instructed me to come in for monitoring; the nurse not being able to find the baby's heartbeat right away; talking to some of the nurses who cared for me the last time. The hardest thing was trying not to give in to the sheer panic I felt just being there.

But I'm damned glad I went, even if it turned out to be nothing serious. I imagine it only would have become worse with the stress of not knowing if the baby was ok, and it could have turned into something more serious. My mind is at ease, and I'm proud of myself for not just writing it off as growing pains (even if that's what it is!) and for putting my health and Beulah's health over the risk of people thinking I was stupid and panicky. I still feel guilt that I ignored my own instinct that something was wrong last time, and I wasn't about to walk down that road again. I'm still feeling some contractions, but they are not painful, not regular, and not as strong. Back to bed for me!

Saturday, September 22, 2007


Morning sickness got worse for a bit there, and even the Z.ofran didn't help. I'm finally back on track with keeping food down.

My aunt is home, my grandma is back at the nursing home (and looking good). We saw her today, she's starting to walk in therapy. Marc's grandma is not well now - she's at the hospital, they think it's pnuemonia. Her son came home on Wednesday and found her passed out on the floor. We saw her today as well, and she seems better. She's worried that they are trying to trick her into living in a nursing home by saying she's going to need to go to one for some rehab. I promised her that they can't make her live there for good, and that I'd break her out if they tried. She asked if we were having another baby, and she's very excited that we are. Cat's out of the bag!

Off to help Marc with the dishes, his most dreaded of all chores.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


Things I've learned this morning:

1. I need to start keeping garbage bags near my desk. The walk from the living room to the bathroom is too far, even when you are running.
2. A swiffer doesn't do a great job cleaning up popcorn-puke.
3. My cats are far more intrigued with my vomit than I am with their vomit.

Thursday, September 13, 2007


All is well with little Beulah! I told my doc he scared me last time and he felt bad. We did try the doppler again, and finally realized it's pretty broken. We did pick up Beulah's heartbeat for a bit towards the end, and it sounded good!

Next doc appoinment on 10/11, and I have my big ultrasound planned for 10/04. He also wrote me a prescription for the nausea and vomiting. Of course, no one ever seems to have it in stock, so hopefully it will be filled by tomorrow evening when we go to pick it up. The idea of a weekend with no nausea or puking makes me think that I might actually find the energy to clean my house or something...

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


Saw Grandma tonight - she's been moved to a nursing home only a few blocks away. She was telling us about the wonderful food and how nice they are there, but she still hates PT. She's frustrated that she can't walk yet (have I mentioned how impatient she is?) and she's worried about everyone else. She's got a sore from laying in the bed so much, but otherwise she seems better.

My aunt is not doing as well. She's special needs and lives in a private group home. She's been acting oddly for a few weeks, but the docs have not been been able to figure out what is causing it. Yesterday she was found with no pulse and they had to resuscitate her. She's only in her 50s. She's in ICU now, she's responsive and talking. My grandma knows she's in the hospital, but has no idea how bad it was (i.e. that she practically dead).

Any prayers you can spare, we could use them.

I have a an appointment with my OB tomorrow morning. My goals are: 1. get drugs for nausea, 2. kick him for scaring 10 years off my life at the last appointment, and 3. schedule the big ultrasound. I may let him near me with the doppler tomorrow - I need a little reassurance Beulah is OK. Three losses on my February EDD board this week, all were in the 16-17 week range. Hopefully tomorrow will be happier post.

Friday, September 7, 2007


Been a busy week...Grandma fell and broke a hip after Mass on Tuesday. She tripped on an outdoor floor mat and went down. She had surgery on Wednesday and she's in some pain. She's so worried about everyone else. She's scared because physical therapy hurt her, and they are coming back in the morning to make her get out of the bed and stand on her own. The food at the hospital is crap and she's frustrated because they come in every hour to check something else. She says it only hurts if they make her move around. My sister told me that they heard her moaning and crying down the hall (they had to leave the room, they couldn't handle seeing her in so much pain). If I could just make it better, I would. I hate seeing her helpless and worried. She's been so much more worried in the last year, especially since my uncle got sick and died. My poor grandma. I hate this.

My mother told her I was pregnant, and I'm so glad. She's so happy and excited. She started crying tonight when I saw her, saying that she was praying so hard for us since Gregory died, and she couldn't be happier. It scares the shit out of me that she might not live to see the little pigface in person. Old people die when they break hips. They lose their independence, and lose their desire to carry on. They are more at risk for nosocomial infections like pneumonia. Please God she makes it to her 80th birthday next spring. She deserves a little happiness and a big birthday celebration after the shitty circumstances in the last year and a half.

Morning sickness is winding down a bit, and I'm getting quite the belly. I need to start taking photos. I have very few belly shots from when I was pregnant with G, one at 13w and a couple at 33w. I so wish I had more...hindsight, blah blah blah.

And to the person who found my blog by googling for information on not feeling the baby move for a few hours and being scared: KICK COUNTS. Go lay down on your couch or bed and count your baby's movements. The goal is to count 10 movements in 2 hours. (You can stop when you feel 10.) Sometimes drinking some cold juice or soda can help wake the baby up if she's sleeping. If you don't feel 10 movements in 2 hours, call your OB. If they blow you off, go to the ER or L&D. Get the ultrasound. Yes, you'll probably feel like an idiot when the baby is perfectly fine, healthy, and you realize she was just taking a nap, but it will ease your mind that the baby is ok. You should not feel shy about demanding good care - you are paying your doctor, and you should get the quality of care you deserve, not what they feel is fair. You are the best advocate for your health and your child's health. In this case, it's far better to open your mouth. Worst case is that something is not right and you've caught it by speaking up. That said, I hope your little one is kicking up a storm, and that he or she will be home in your arms shortly!

Saturday, September 1, 2007


I hate this. I've had two dreams in the last three days with dead babies. I keep waking up completely heartbroken, and then I feel relieved for a moment, and then I'm gripped with fear for the rest of the day that it's a sign or an omen of what's still to come. This is so difficult, and it's wearing me down. I just want to cry and scream and fast forward the next 20-something weeks until I have a baby in my arms. I feel like I can't even vent and cry to Marc. He's been so much more relaxed this pregnancy than last because I haven't been as outwardly worried. I like him this way! February just needs to get here, fast. Time is going more quickly than I thought it would, but I sort of wish I could go to sleep tonight and wake up when it's February. Hell, I'd settle for these dreams going away.

Monday, August 27, 2007


I haven't posted what happened with Gregory on here. I came across his birth story, which I wrote the night I came home from the hospital, two days after he was born. It was the middle of the night Monday into Tuesday, and I remember not being able to sleep and feeling compelled to write it all down while it was fresh in my mind. I also remember about halfway through it, my milk came in and I went from having fevered engorged breasts to leaking all over my brand new pajamas. I just sat and sobbed and wrote it all down so I would never forget.

Friday night I noticed that I had not felt my baby move in a few hours and I was experiencing some signs of early labor, including irregular contractions that were getting stronger. I couldn’t tell if the baby was moving because the contraction, it felt very weird. I had noticed a decrease in activity and was told it was normal since I was so far along and the baby had less room to move. My Doppler was not picking up the baby’s heartbeat, even though it did two nights before that. I wrote it off to it needing a new battery since it was barely picking my heartbeat up.

Saturday morning, after replacing the battery, I still could not find the heartbeat. I started to worry and called my OB. He had me head to labor and delivery for monitoring. The nurse who met me there seemed optimistic. She had trouble finding the baby’s heartbeat, and called in one of the other doctors to do an ultrasound. My husband was becoming alarmed, but I already knew. I still prayed so hard. I remember him holding my hand, near tears, and I just kept silently saying the Hail Mary, and begging God to take me instead. The doctor kept looking, and I asked her when my baby died. She said she couldn’t say that, there was still hope, but I’ve had so many ultrasounds with this pregnancy (I was considered high risk because of a previous miscarriage, bleeding early in this pregnancy, a two vessel cord, and a car accident 3 weeks ago) and every time the heartbeat was so easy to find. She kept saying that the baby was in an odd position, and that’s why she couldn’t find his heartbeat, but I knew the baby was head down and had been for weeks. After fifteen minutes, I asked her again, and she turned off the machine, told me she was so sorry, and patted my hand. They told me my doctor was on his way in. I called my mother and told her I was in the hospital, and could she please come, that we think the baby died.

After my doctor arrived, he confirmed that the baby was head down and had passed away. I begged him to not make me deliver vaginally, that mentally, I could not handle it. After he checked me and discovered I was only starting to efface and was only a fingertip dilated, he told me it was my choice and we consented to a c-section. My husband could not bring himself to call his mother, but for me, it was helpful to call her and to say what had happened, it gave me something to do. She was devastated, and I asked her if she would like to come to the hospital and see the baby, but she said she did not think she could not handle that. My mother and sisters arrived, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen so much sorrow in my mother’s eyes as when I told her that the baby had passed away for sure.

They began prepping me for surgery. I was so scared – they told me that they would not put me under general anesthesia, but that they would give me a spinal and dope me up a bit so I would not remember much. My mother and the perinatology bereavement nurse Donna called the priest who married us, and asked him to come and baptize the baby. My mother and sister Kristin then left to tell my grandmother in person and to purchase a white gown for the baby, while my other sister Caitlin stayed with Marc and I so he would not be alone while I was in surgery. They gave me a shot of some cocktail and I was wheeled into the OR. Donna stayed with me during the surgery so I would have someone there to hold my hand for the parts I was awake (I asked that my husband not be there when they offered that opportunity because I did not want him to carry the memory of the medical discussion or the sterile OR when looking back on the short time we had with our child). I barely remember the spinal, just the quick pinch and then nothing; it was not painful, thanks to the other drugs. I don’t remember too much of the surgery – my face was very itchy, and Donna and the anesthesiologist kept scratching it for me. I happened to wake up and turn to my left at one point, and I saw one nurse handing my baby to another – I saw my doctor’s face over the screen and he told me I had a little boy. He was so pink, that for just a moment, I thought, maybe they made a mistake, it’s going to be ok, but he never cried.

They wheeled me into recovery, and both Marc and my sister were there, which was so wonderful, because they told me only one person could be there for me. Marc said it killed him when they brought me in because I seemed so happy and ok, and he was afraid for me to come crashing back when I realized what was going on. My doctor came in, and told my husband that the baby was perfect – it was a freak accident. The cord was very thin, and had become wrapped around his neck tightly three times. I am grateful for two things: my husband was concerned that this happened as a result of the car accident and this relieves him of a lifetime of guilt I know he would carry, and because we have an answer, which is something they said we probably would not ever have. My mother in law called a few minutes later, and asked to speak to me. I was very groggy still, but I remember her saying “I have the receipt for the travel system (that she had bought us for my shower less than a week before) and I will give it to you so that you can return it for the money”. My heart broke and I just handed the phone back to Marc. I felt so badly later for being sad about it – I realize she is grieving too and didn’t know what to say and was trying to be helpful. Marc told me later he told his mother never to say anything like that to me again, and she apologized, but pressed the issue with him, and he told her that we would not be returning anything for cash. My blood pressure went through the roof and the nurse started getting alarmed, but she understood when she heard what happened.

Thank God Cate stayed with us – Marc was able to go and pick up his family and bring them to the hospital, and my sister and I waited for my family. My brother looked like hell, and stayed in the room for only a moment, and my grandmother, mother, sisters and I just sat and talked. They wheeled me into a labor and delivery room down the hall, and took the gown my sister picked out and dressed the baby.

After my in laws arrived, they brought the baby to Marc and I first. He was so perfect. We named our son Gregory Ian. He weighed 4 lbs, 15 oz, and was 18 inches long, completely perfectly formed. He looked so much like Marc. I was scared to hold him initially, but they put him in my arms and I cannot begin to describe the competing and intense feelings of joy and sorrow that filled my heart. Seeing my husband hold him was a moment I’ve waited for for so long – and it was heartbreaking in a way I could never have imagined. We asked for our family to come back in and they all got the opportunity to see and to hold him. My mother and grandmother held him, and then my father in law, but everyone else seemed a bit afraid. I just kept being reassuring, and reminded them that they would never regret holding him, but that they might regret having missed the chance. My sisters each held him, and then I encouraged my mother in law to at least come and look at him more closely. It helped her so much to see him and convinced her to hold him. Neither of our brothers wanted to hold him – my brother in law is only 13, and it was not something he could process, he could not even look at Gregory, I think he was scared, and that is so understandable. My brother, who is an adult, was so overwhelmed and angry he could not bring himself to, but he did touch him and look closely. I have not seen my brother cry since we were younger; it devastated me to see the pain in his red-rimmed eyes. Watching my husband and father in law passing the baby to each other was rough too – Marc told me later that he can’t remember seeing his father cry like that before and that it killed him. Monsignor Farley blessed Gregory, and we all prayed and cried and took pictures. We asked for a few more minutes alone with the baby, but the nurse was still concerned about my blood pressure, so she asked our families to leave for the day.

Marc and I sat with Gregory for a little while longer. I was frustrated because a new nurse came in every few minutes and kept saying to tell her when we wanted her to take him to the morgue. I was so numb at that moment, but in hindsight I was so angry she even said the word morgue. I told Marc that this was probably his last chance to hold him, and that he should take a few more minutes to say goodbye. He started sobbing and said, “I don’t want a few more minutes, I want years.” I don’t think my heart has ever been so completely broken. I held Gregory for a few more moments, and sang to him the same songs I’ve been singing to him for months, and I rocked him and cuddled him and kissed him. We said goodbye and the nurse took him away.

Sunday, August 26, 2007


Told Marc's folks today...they were thrilled! I really thought Grandpa was going to jump up and down. We've asked them to keep it quiet for a while just because we don't want to stress anyone out. My mother is annoyed that I won't tell my grandmother - she's sure she'll be thrilled and won't be stressed out, but I don't think I'm ready to do that.

Went to BRU for the first time since before Gregory died. It was fun and a lot easier than I anticipated. I bought some stuffed toys (frogs of course!) and looked at some things we'll need to buy (fleece cover for carseat, angel monitor, etc.). I am feeling so confident about this pregnancy in the last few days. I'm sure one day soon I'll wake up and have a major panic attack and convince myself the baby is dead.

The morning sickness from hell has struck again. When I was pregnant with Gregory, I had only minor nausea in the first trimester and was pretty much on bed rest because of bleeding. Once the bleeding stopped, I had a few days before the morning sickness started. FIVE days straight where I had a headache, nonstop vomiting, dehydration and cold sweats. My doctor figured it might be because of the red dye in the cold medicine I took and told me to stay away from it. Not three weeks later, BAM, it hit again. Another FIVE straight days of nonstop puking. It was just so unbelievably debilitating. It would ease up to where I was only vomiting once or twice a day, and then every few weeks, I would become violently ill. I had to keep a box of garbage bags in the car just so I had a place to puke. I remember Marc driving me into work one Saturday morning when I was about 19 weeks along, and we were stopped at a red light and I just kept vomiting. Marc starts laughing and I turn my head to see three teenage girls in the car next to me, completely horrified. I wanted to roll down the window and say "I bet you don't want to get pregnant anytime soon!" It finally ended when I called my doctor and begged for drugs. He prescribed Z ofran 3x a day. That stuff was gold. Of course, it was so expensive, my insurance would only cover 9 pills every 30 days, and at $48 bucks a pill, I started conserving and taking it only when the vomiting became so awful I couldn't keep anything down for 24 hours. Eventually it tapered off on it's own around 28 weeks, and salty, greasy food (fast food french fries) kept it at bay without the drugs. This time it hit on Thursday, and I was completely useless. I was on the phone half the day and muting every time I had to puke. The rest of the time, I was laid up on the couch, moaning and sweating and shivering. By the time Marc got home, I was begging for McD's french fries. The first half I ate came right back up (cold potato mush - mmmmm) but the second half stayed down. It's gotten to the point where I just keep sprinkling table salt into my mouth. It's gross, but it works! I haven't puked since Friday!

Monday, August 20, 2007

For my sister Kristin

So I mentioned before about how I was keeping a big secret from my sister Kristin.

Can you guess what it is darling?


Finally got around to scanning my ultrasound pics. I'm so lazy sometimes. It's not like the scanner is where I rest my feet when I'm at the computer.

7w5d - the printer was kind of crappy, but the big black abyss is my full and very distended bladder, the baby is to the lower left of it.

11w6d, and you can see why I call her Beulah Skeletor Pigface.

She's so cute, yet so creepy.

Profile pic

I love the dildocam - the detailed shot of her tiny little fingers just amaze me.

And congrats to my friend Mindy on a wonderful ultrasound today at 7w4d! I am so excited for you!

Saturday, August 18, 2007


Second trimester! *confetti*

But I'm going to kick my doctor. I had an appointment on Thursday morning (11w6d). I figured we'd finally get around to bloodwork and internals and all that fun stuff. I walked in and he said "Oh, let me go get the doppler". I almost stopped him, knowing it was still really early and that there was a good chance we wouldn't hear anything, and it would just send us into a panic. But I let him go, and made my mother come sit in the room with me because I was anxious. The doc tries fishing around for a bit with the gel, and then tries alcohol. He says he can't even find me on the doppler, which makes me think the damn thing is broken, but no, it's that he can't find the uterine artery or the placenta, and this causing him to worry. (It's apparently a sign of a missed miscarriage and a shrinking uterus.) I'm still refusing to give in to the panic, and keep telling him not to worry. After trying more gel and still more alcohol, he finally finds the uterine artery, but no baby. He starts mentioning emergency ultrasounds and wants to know when I can get scanned. (It's important to note that my doc volunteers at a couple of the women's clinics my mother runs - I see him there so that Marc doesn't have to take a day off each month to drive me to his private office - and that this particular clinic does not have an ultrasound machine.)

I am now starting to panic. I call Marc and lie through my teeth, that I'm getting an ultrasound because the doc hasn't gotten the results of the other one. I call the only guy at work who knows I'm pregnant (my old boss from my previous job) and tell him that there is a problem and that I need to go have an ultrasound. My mother and I blow off work for the rest of the day and head to get scanned. I sat in the waiting room staring at this whiney, largely pregnant 16 year old who is pissed at her boyfriend for checking out another girl, and I fantasized about slapping the pout off her sour face. Then I alternated between knitting a blanket for a baby I was sure was already dead and sobbing. We finally go into the room, and the tech is telling me not to worry. She puts the wand on my tummy and I see the baby for half a second, and she tells me to go pee. I thought I needed a full bladder, but she doesn't bother with it because she likes to take her time and doesn't want me to be uncomfortable. I went to the ladies room and my mind is racing - the baby had arms, legs, big head - it looked like it should look at this stage, so if it's dead, it had to have been in the last couple of days. I keep thinking that there is still hope. I go back in and I'm in full panic mode now. She puts the wand back on my belly and says there is a heartbeat and all is fine, but she wants to do a transvaginal ultrasound. I am so relieved I start sobbing.

I made my mother stay (after everything I've been through, there is no shame - I didn't care if she's in the room, I just needed my mommy to stay) and we try the dildocam. Baby Beulah Skeletor has a huge head with a slightly upturned nose, the most beautiful tiny finger bones, and a heartrate of 163 bpm. The clarity was unbelievable. I could see her wiggling and kicking and touching her face. It was the best ultrasound I've ever had. I love this tech - she is even more disarming then the last - she made me laugh, she hugged me, she was so casual about it all that I didn't feel unnerved for even a second. I asked her if she'd do my Level II in October, even though I know my doc is going to want me to see the perinatologist from my last pregnancy. I want her to do my growth scans every month as well. She is awesome.

Doc and I are going to have to chat at the next appointment. We need to be on the same page for the rest of this pregnancy. I know that he tried the doppler because he wants to reassure me every step of the way. I know that he was heartbroken when Gregory died, and that all he wants to do is give me a healthy, living baby. I am so blessed to have a doctor who listens to me, respects that I read a lot and challenge things he says, and who talks to me like an equal - he doesn't sugarcoat anything. But if I'm going to let go of the stress as much as I can, then he needs to let it go too.

My boss also found out I was pregnant. When I got home, I told the guy I work with that all was well, and that since I'd had to blow off work, maybe now was the time to tell our boss. He said "you never told him? well he knows now I guess!" I spoke to my boss after that and he was so amazing. He is so happy for us. I explained that we had not been telling people because 1. we'd suffered a late term loss last year, and we were more guarded, and 2. I'd just started this job and didn't want anyone to think that I wasn't in it for the long haul - this is a long term commitment. He said that he had never thought that, and that he believed family was the most important thing. I have hit the effing jackpot with this job.

Yay for trimester 2!

Sunday, August 12, 2007


The bizarre dreams continue. I had one where all of my grammar school friends were mad at me because I got pregnant again, and another where M had cheated on me and didn't care that I was mad. I really wish I was better at interpreting my own dreams, these all just seem a bit crazy.

Finally caved yesterday and bought maternity jeans after my regular jeans stopped fitting over my hips. I have a pair of maternity jeans (a bit frayed, as I wore them hard) from my pregnancy with Gregory, but I couldn't bring myself to wear them. I was wearing them when we got in the car accident when I went into early labor, I was wearing them weeks later when he died, when we went to the hospital and found out he died, when I left the hospital. One part of me doesn't want to put them back on because they are his jeans and should stay a part of that pregnancy; another part of me doesn't want to wear them, even though I was desperate, because I'm afraid of jinxing this pregnancy. So Marc took me to ON and I found a snazzy pair of jeans that were only a little too baggy in the butt.

I also bought some new knitting stuff - I needed a few new sizes of double pointed needles and the Michael's by me only bothers to carry size 4 DPNs. We went to AC Moore and I expanded my set.

Went to the cemetery last week - Gregory's name has been added to the headstone. We buried him with my mother's father. The plot is meant to hold my grandparents, my mother's brother, and her sister. We weren't in any rush to add his name, and I said we'd add it down the road when another name was going to be added. My uncle Michael had been diagnosed with diabetes forever ago, and has lost his eyesight (and independence) a few years ago. He became really ill earlier this year, and long story short, rushed to the ER, lost consciousness, all of his organs were failing and he passed away one afternoon in early March. I never expected him to die before my grandmother (running theme here: no one expects to bury a child). I don't think I really accepted Michael's death until I saw his name on the headstone - I think I was still so wrapped up in and raw from Gregory's death, I just couldn't accept losing Michael as well. It's hit me really hard in the last couple of weeks. I miss him a lot. It's hard to imagine Thanksgiving or Christmas without him. It's tough going to visit my grandmother and him not being around. He was my dad stand-in (my father is not in my life, and hasn't been a regular player in almost 20 years) - Michael took me to my junior high graduation dinner, he took me to the father-daughter dances, he's the reason I love baseball the way I do. I find myself wanting to visit the cemetery as much for him as Gregory now. I'm starting to think the grief will never get easier - just as you start recovering from one death, the next one sucker punches you.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007


When I quit smoking a few years back, I used the patch. My favorite part was the intensely vivid dreams I had. The dreams were so real and made complete sense, even after I woke up. The same thing happened when I was pregnant with Gregory - intense, vivid dreams that made total sense. Dreams, at least for me, were never like this outside of these experiences. Now there were no flying monkeys, no giving birth to a litter of kittens, no supernatural wonders. This time around, it's very different. I'm now having the very vivid and real dreams, except they are completely crazy.

Take, for example, the dream where I had given birth to a baby, but I didn't see him. Marc and I were on vacation with my family and his family, and everyone else was taking care of the baby. I hadn't even laid eyes on him. I was on a boat at one point (my mother-in-law was rowing home) and I started crying realizing that when we got home, I was finally going to see my child. When we arrived back at our apartment, Marc went into the bathroom to wash his hands and put the baby down between the toilet and the wall. I saw this from the hallway and asked him why he did this, and everyone acted as though I had lost my mind - this was the safest and greatest place for a baby, what the hell was wrong with me? Then, I was holding the baby. He was too small and looked very dark and jaundiced, and his clothes were too big, but he was able to hug me with the strength of a small child.

It's obvious to me that parts of this dream go back to Gregory - while I was in surgery, my mother and sister went shopping for a christening gown. They found a cute outfit, but he was swimming in it. He was 4 lbs, 15 oz, and too small for the tiniest gown they found in the store. And of course, there was some discoloration as he'd passed away about 24 hours before. This explains the too small for his white clothes, discolored baby from the dream. I wonder how much of the rest of the dream is related to my fears about Beulah. Shortly after I miscarried in July 2005, my sister had a dream that I was pregnant again, but had another miscarriage, only much, much later in the pregnancy, and that it was a little boy. She told only my other sister about it. When Gregory died, she went to my grandmother's house with my mother to tell her what happened, and suddenly the dream came flooding back to her, and she said the whole experience was deja vu, down to the clothes she was wearing. I don't put a ton of faith in random dreams, but history and the Bible are filled with prophecies in dream. It was a bizarre enough coincidence that we all semi-joke with her and ask her if she's had any dreams lately. It scares me to think that these psycho dreams I've been having could be at all prophetic about this baby.

At least the plot of the dream gave me a good laugh.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007


I feel so conflicted. I'm a member of a couple of message boards, most of which are mommy-oriented. There have been quite a few posts from women who've been diagnosed with SUA and they are looking for advice and stories of moms who've been there. I really believe these women are posting looking for reassurance that their babies will be okay, so I have never replied with what happened to me. I know it's not what they want to hear, and I don't want to scare the hell out of a mom for no reason. Most healthy SUA babies are born alive and healthy. But there is this part of me that wishes someone would have told me. What if someone had said, "hey, i saw you've been diagnosed with a two-vessel cord. your baby is probably going to be just fine, but I didn't have a good outcome. You should be aware of what happened to me and talk to your doctor about ways to reduce the risk of it happening to you"? Would I have done anything differently? Maybe I would have been a little more paranoid about the reduced movement around 36 weeks, and asked my doctor for an ultrasound. Maybe they'd have seen Gregory was in distress and he would have been born alive. What if months from now one of those moms who posted looking for advice and stories posts her own tragic tale, and I have to carry it with me forever that I didn't speak up? I always get so close to replying, and then I back down because I don't want to scare the hell out of her. No mom wants to hear that her baby could die. What do I do with this awful knowledge and experience?

Sunday, July 29, 2007


Some fun kitty photos because I'm bored this afternoon.

The very fat San Francisco kitties:

Our mommy cat's first baby:

Two more babies, these two from the second litter. (Mommy cat had 1 kitten in the first litter, 3 in the second. Mommy, Daddy, and babies all still live here. Yes, we have 6 cats.)

Saturday, July 28, 2007



'Costas said he wasn't offended by Bonds' snipe.
"As anyone can plainly see, I'm 5-6 1/2 and a strapping 150, and unlike some people, I came by all of it naturally," Costas said Thursday.'

I love you Bob Costas!

Friday, July 27, 2007


**Highly Sensitive**

Lurking a little while ago on a July EDD group on one of my message boards (I love to read the birth stories - I do the same thing on the waiting to test group, I love seeing the girls so happy when they find out they are pregnant!) and read devastating news. One of the mommies ended up being induced on Wednesday night and it all ended badly. She had to have an emergency c-section this afternoon (her son was born and they have him in the NICU as a precaution) but there were complications and she died this evening. I just don't know what to do with this. She has a daughter who isn't even two years old yet. Her poor husband, those poor children. I can't stop crying. How the fuck does something like this happen in 2007?? I've dealt with a lot of my own mortality issues in the last year (I suppose it's normal enough when you bury a child) but it still never really occurred to me that my husband could take my child home and have to bury me. How on earth does this still happen? It's not fair. It's just not fair. I know all too well that excitement of expecting a normal, happy childbirth and having it go all wrong, but this is different.

I can not imagine losing Marc, I can not imagine the grief. Right after Gregory died, I had a very serious, intense fear of losing Marc as well. He would leave the hospital to go find food, or to pick up family to bring them to visit, or to run home and feed the cats, and I was petrified the entire time he was gone that he wouldn't be safe. I would have to sit on the phone with my mother or a friend to just distract me for the hour he was gone. Maybe it's because I've had a child die, because I know the pain and recovery that follows that tragedy, that I'm not as afraid of it anymore. I'm definitely more afraid of Marc dying. Two years ago, I think I would have said it would be easier to grieve my husband than my child. I realize how much I've leaned on him in my grief over Gregory, and I have grown to love Marc in ways I didn't know my heart was capable of. I dread the day we ever part.

Please keep this family in your prayers; the husband who tries to find joy in the birth of his son while dealing with the grief for his wife, the daughter who won't understand why mommy isn't coming home and probably won't remember her well as she grows older, and the newborn son who will never know his mommy.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007


Nothing much new to report here. Working during the day, passing out at night. We went shopping this weekend, and I got some cute new maternity shirts and a bunch of long sleeved onesies. Gregory was due in July, this baby is February, so we are going to need warmer clothes. Marc had a lot of fun shopping. He told me that he thinks little girl clothes are more fun that little boy clothes. Then we went into another store with baby polos and button down shirts for boys! We were swimming in cute! I'm so happy that Marc is so hopeful and excited, I was worried that losing Gregory ruined that part of us.

Went to a barbecue on Sunday with my in-laws. Marc's first cousin was there with his fiance and her two kids. They are expecting a baby later this year. I was a little jealous. We did everything 'the right way': got married, have well paying jobs, got an apartment in a great neighborhood while we save up for a house. We started trying for a baby in May 2005. The earliest we will bring home a baby is February 2008. It's a bit tough to see other people attain your dream without even trying. It sound so judgemental, and I hate that it does. Life just isn't always fair. I hate that too. I think it would have been much harder to be around them if we weren't expecting Beulah.

I am so surprised that I'm already this far along without a moment of spotting. It still feels way too good to be true. I'm afraid to tell anyone, even now that we've seen a heartbeat. We've talked about not telling anyone for a long time. With me working from home, it will be rather easy. My sisters' (twins) have a birthday at the end of August. One sister knows, the other is suspicious, but I've managed to put her off. We are thinking of telling her on her birthday. She is going to be so excited! I do not want to tell my grandmother or Marc's until we can't hide it anymore. I want to spare everyone the fear of losing another baby for as long as I can. Marc is talking about staying out of sight from the grandmas and extended family until Thanksgiving or Christmas, and inviting everyone over and letting them see for themselves. It will take patience, but I'm onboard. I do think we should tell Marc's parents (and tell them to keep quiet) because my mother knows and I don't want them to be hurt. If we held out to Thanksgiving, our family would only be worried for 2.5 months. Christmas will be too difficult, because I will see them at Thanksgiving either way.

Of course, the above scenario might be a pipe dream. I might be able to avoid my family, even though we live in the same neighborhood as a lot of them, but other people I run into could congratulate them on the impending birth, and then our secret is blown. I went to buy orange juice yesterday, and I was putting it on the counter, the guy says "Oh, orange juice is good for the baby" and pointed to my stomach. Holy crap, dude, I'm not even 9 weeks! And the thing is, I'm tall and very thin. I'm a bag of bones for the most part. My stomach is loose from the last pregnancy and I am pretty bloated, but I didn't think I looked pregnant! With Gregory, no one mentioned it until much further along. I was 22 weeks or so, in the market below my office grabbing lunch with a friend on a Saturday morning, and the lady asked when the baby was due. I looked at her like she had 3 heads and said "what baby?" before I realized she meant the one I was pregnant with! This is way too early for random strangers to be pointing it out.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


Went for the ultrasound this morning, but didn't see the doctor. Awesome new tech there, she really put me at ease. Little Beulah is so cute! She's measuring 7w3d and has a heartrate of 160 bpm. I had an ultrasound at this point with Gregory, but he consistently measured at least a week behind, so he was still a teeny blob without much shape. Beulah has tiny little wiggly arm and leg buds! I am so in love. I started crying at one point, but I'm not sure if it was over the joy of seeing the baby or if it's because I had a really full bladder.

7w5d (technically since it's after midnight)

Less than 12 hours to go until we see Beulah! I am scared. I keep running through bad scenarios in my head, trying to prepare myself for the worst. I'm going to see the doctor sometime in the morning, and my ultrasound appointment is at 11:30 am ET. (Then I have to fly home by the seat of my pants because I have a meeting at 12:30 pm ET.) Please God, give me a healthy, happy, living baby to take home this time.

Sunday, July 15, 2007


Just got back from the wedding reception, and we had a fabulous time. The bride was gorgeous and the groom was glowing. The love they have for each other is amazing. It just so powerful, it felt like they'd both explode with joy. It is so much more than being in love, they truly love each other, and sadly, I don't think there is enough of that these days. The groom sang a few songs to his beautiful bride, and so many tears were shed! Early in the evening when we were speaking with the groom, he was telling us that he'd never seen anything more beautiful than her on their wedding day. You can just see it in the way they look at each other, and the way they treat each other...what they have between the two of them is so wonderful. She deserves someone who will love her for all eternity, and I think she's found him.

Had a freakout (yesterday at this point) in the afternoon. I walked a few blocks for pizza, and on my way back, my left shoulder started screaming out of nowhere. Alarm bells started going off in my head. All I could think was 'ectopic'. I was three blocks from home and panicking. M freaked out when I came in. I scared the hell out of him. The shoulder pain was definitely odd - it was radiating down my arm and up my neck within moments. I read something that said to take some safe pain medication and ice it for 10 minutes, and after 30 minutes, if it had eased, it was unlikely to be caused by an ectopic pregnancy. Those were the longest 30 minutes, but thankfully, it eased considerably, and once I took a warm shower, pretty much went away. I spoke to my mother and a friend, both who agreed that I should only worry if I was also having abdominal pain, which I wasn't. My mother said at that point I'd be doubled over in pain, and bending wouldn't even be an option. Thank God for people who aren't hormonal, panicky, and long-since-crazy. Only 4 more sleeps (I am so not counting naps) until Beulah's first home movie...and I can not wait. Next milestone: baby with healthy heartbeat, in uterus, not on my scar. Only 4 more sleeps.

Saturday, July 14, 2007


I'm home! Hurray! I got home last night after a rather uneventful flight that I almost enjoyed! Flying isn't so bad as long as you are pretty sure you won't crash. I prayed the Hail Mary repeatedly during take-off, but after that, I was okay. My sisters went home two days before me, but they didn't tell me until after I'd landed safely that their flight was really bad. After being delayed almost two hours, the plane caught fire approximately ten minutes after take-off. Except no one could find the fire. Everyone started smelling smoke, the pilot had fire alarms going off in the cockpit, but no one could actually locate the fire. Unsettling to say the least. Then they circled the airport for a while before sitting on the tarmac for forty minutes before getting to the gate. Their flight was the exact same flight as mine (same flight number, same schedule) and I landed, drove home, went out for dinner, and was in my pajamas before they even got in the car. M surprised me at baggage claim with flowers and took me out for IHOP, which I'd been craving since I got to San Fran. I found one there, but it was not as good and gave me a stomachache. I think he was a little deflated that I wasn't jumping up and down, but it was weird to see his face after two weeks, and my head was already spinning with the excitement of being home.

But I'm home! My cats are being nice to me again. The mommy cat has never really liked me (the only time she really loved me was when she was birthing the baby kitties) and mostly growled at me and gave me THE LOOK (thanks Steph for the phrase) which is the equivalent of 'the death stare' all night. This morning she's warmed up to me again and is tolerating my presence.

Beulah seems to be doing well enough. This is such a rough time. All I have to go on is that my pants don't fit well and I'm nauseated if I don't eat every few hours. I'm excited for my ultrasound on Wednesday. I just want to see a heartbeat and wiggly baby.

From the Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss Blog Directory, a few thought provoking questions:

1. What do you want people to know about the child (or children) you have lost?
That they existed and were real. That I love them so much I'd have died in their places. I want people to know that Gregory looked just like his father, with a tiny bit of my family mixed in. I want them to know that he was the greatest gift God has ever given me.

2. What names did you give (or plan to give) your children and why?
My first baby was an early miscarriage, we named that baby Nicky, after a little girl I knew who passed away when she was ten years old. She was such a lovely girl - pretty, spunky, and loving. She was a great big sister, and her birthday was around the time I miscarried, and I knew Nicky would watch over my little baby in heaven. We named our son Gregory Ian. Gregory was a boy's name we both thought was wonderful, and Ian was after M's friend's brother, who died as a result of an accident in his teen years. We'd planned on naming him that long before he died, and we felt it important to give him the same name we'd planned on giving him had he lived.

3. What rituals or ways of memorializing your children seem to best help you cope with their loss?
We visit G's grave on his birthday, the day he was buried, holidays, and whenever we miss him. We have one of the teddy bears that we bought for him (we buried him with the identical mini-bear rattle we bought the same day) and I hug it whenever I really miss him. His due date (which was Thursday) is a tough day for me (not so much for M) so I think of him often. We went to the cemetery last year on his due date, but this year I was away, so I couldn't. I will probably go tomorrow.

4. What are the kindest and/or most helpful things people have said to you? What are the worst?
People have been very kind. Some friends took us out for dinner and brought me my favorite brownies. Friends have listened to me vent, held my hand while I sobbed, and just let me be in a shitty mood when I needed to be. A few of my friends have seen the pictures of G and don't act horrified, even though it's a natural reaction for some of them. My sisters have taken amazing care of me. I cut my maternity leave in half last summer but worked from home about a month after he died - but my sisters came and babysat me almost everyday, allowing me to grieve when I needed to and offering a welcome distraction when I needed one. It was two months of daily day time slumber parties in my house last summer! Some of the worst things came from people who were trying to help. "It's better that he died, we wouldn't want a disabled baby in the family." Wow. I'll gladly take whatever kind of baby God wants to give me, thankyouverymuch. I don't care if he has two heads and five arms. There was also comments about returning baby gifts for cash. Wow. I know people were trying to help, which is why I don't hate these people today. I learned quickly to greet people by saying "Thank you so much for being here for me. It means so much to me. It's okay that you don't know what to say, most of the time, I don't know what to say. Just being here to listen to me and give me a shoulder to cry on is so wonderful."

5. Who is your hero? Who helps you make it through the dark days better than anyone else on the planet?
I have a few heroes. Most of them are women I've met online through message boards and blogs, who offer me hope of getting through the really rough days. My mom, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother are also big role models for me. My mom has lived through a lot of stuff, and the fact that she came out only a little bit crazier (lol) because of it all reminds me that I come from a long line of strong women. My grandmother has been through hell - my mother's sister is mentally retarded. The choices my grandmother has had to make require a very strong mind and a lot of faith in God. The fact that she hasn't gone off the deep end reminds me that I can keep going. And while I didn't know GiGi for long (my great grandmother passed away while I was young), I know that she lost her oldest child Elizabeth when she was 13 months old. She went on to have five other children. She reminds me that there can be so much joy after so much agony.

6. Is there anything you need to say or want to say but haven't been able to? Can you say it now?
I don't know. I think I've been pretty open with my feelings in general. My mother and my sisters will listen until I'm blue in the face. M lets me talk about it whenever I want to talk, even though I think it's harder for him to share his own feelings.

7. How are you doing? How are you really doing?
I'm doing ok. I've had some trouble in the last few days being excited over this pregnancy. I feel like I'm betraying Gregory a little bit, even though I know he would want me to have other children. I almost feel like I should dedicate the rest of my life to mourning him because otherwise he'll think I've forgotten him. I feel a lot of my raw grief is gone, and I'm afraid it's because I'm 'moving on'. I don't want to move on. I want to keep him fresh in my mind and heart.

Sunday, July 8, 2007


My sisters arrived safe and sound in San Fran. We've done some sightseeing and taken lots of pictures. One of my sisters figured out that I'm pregnant, and we've had a sort of unspoken agreement to keep it quiet. My other sister is figuring it out fast. I haven't told her because I know she wouldn't want to know until I'm out of the first trimester. I'm going to have to admit it before we head home at the end of the week.

Less than a week until we head back home! This being away is really tough. Not as hard as I thought it would be, but still really, really tough. I'm really homesick, even though the girls are here. I miss my kitties and miss M. I miss my bed, my tv, my computer (this laptop isn't mine). Only a few more days. And then only a few more days after that until Beulah's first baby picture!

And even though I'm not showing this blog to anyone anytime soon...congrats to my pals who got hitched Saturday (07-07-07) and to my friend C. and her husband on the birth of their daughter, who is just gorgeous.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007


Hello from the west coast! I flew in Sunday night and I made it ok! I cried and prayed and hugged my stuffed penguin (Opus) while we took off. The flight itself was uneventful, and we landed on time despite being delayed on the tarmac for over an hour. The hotel isn't as fab as I was led to believe, but it could be much worse. There was some craziness when I was checking in, but hopefully that is already fixed (and the large amount of cash that was withdrawn from my bank account is on its way back in!).

The new job is awesome, I really like it. The people are all really nice and I'm learning a lot. I think I'm going to enjoy the work I'll be doing!

Fun things in San Fran so far:
  • The giant naked mermaid hanging in the hallway in my hotel
  • The (homeless?) guy who had 2 of the fattest, roundest orange cats harnessed to the top of his cart outside of Starbucks this morning
  • The office being less than 2 blocks away from my hotel

Sucky things in San Fran so far:

  • Missing M and my kitties
  • Being 3 hours behind most of the people I love
  • Missing my friend getting married on Saturday

Things to look forward to:

  • Seeing my sisters in less than 48 hours!
  • Seeing Beulah on ultrasound in 15 days!
  • Seeing my friend and her new husband at their wedding reception a week from Saturday

So far we've got no spotting, although the lighting in the hotel room was so sucky and I was so tired I thought I was at first. I want nothing more than for Beulah to be ok and to stick around for a hundred years or so, but I don't think I believe deep down that she will. I am so afraid of miscarrying. There has been so much sadness in the last week or so on one of the message boards I belong to. It's just so scary to know that you can be feeling just fine and your baby has gone and you have no idea.

Saturday, June 30, 2007


M and I went shopping for a suitcase for me for this stupid trip. I can not wait to be home again. I do not like flying, and I do not like traveling. This trip comes at a bad time, but it's the start of a new job that could not come at a better time, so I take the good with the bad. I'll be working normal business hours from home and my phone will stop ringing long enough for me to pull it away from my ear. When I get home, I have a friend's wedding and my first ultrasound (only 19 days away!)

M caught me off guard this morning by kissing my belly and talking to the baby. He never did that much during my pregnancy with G, saying he felt stupid and aloof. I asked him once if he would read to the baby and he tried but felt silly. He said there would be plenty of time and opportunity to read to the baby once it was born. After G died, he felt so guilty - he thought he had so much time... I'm glad that he's pushed aside the silly feeling. I think some days that he is more afraid of something bad happening again than I am.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

4w6d, still

Hello little frog,

Thank you for hanging on through another afternoon nap. It inspires a little more confidence in me each time I wake up and do not see any spotting. Don't get me wrong, I'm still petrified, and I'm sure I will be until I hear you cry (another 246 days or so). Let's make that Rule #1: Cry strong and really loud on your birthday. While we're at it, let's add Rule #2: Your umbilical cord is not a toy. I will buy you whatever you want to play with when you come out. Please find other ways to occupy your time until then.



There is something seriously wrong with me. The beginning of this week was the point in my first pregnancy when I started to spot and miscarried. Wednesday was the point in my second pregnancy where I started to spot and was convinced I was going to miscarry, but then just kept spotting for four weeks and then it went away.

There is a sick, twisted part of me that just wants to see spotting. I want to see it so that I can rejoice in my body's continuing ability to disappoint me and betray me. I think it has to be some new defense mechanism - if something is going wrong, then I can't get my hopes up, and then they can't be dashed and crushed and trampled.

I don't really want to see spotting. I want to keep Beulah Froggy safe forever.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007


Flying cross country on Sunday, and I'm really anxious. I have only flown twice before in my life, and they were very very short trips. A five hour flight is not something I want to do all by myself! I'm really scared! I'll be away for almost two weeks - M and I have never spent more than a night or two apart since we got married. I have never in my life been away from home for so long. I feel homesick already! My awesome sisters are flying out to keep me company for the middle of the trip. I fly out on Sunday, they fly out on Thursday, they head home the following Wednesday, and I fly home on Friday. I spend less nights alone than I do with them!

I am particularly anxious that I will miscarry when I am away from home. I don't think I can handle that thought. I don't think I could handle the sadness, but at the same time, I don't think I could handle it when I am so far away from home, away from M, away from my kitties. In fact, I don't even want to think about it anymore tonight.

Monday, June 25, 2007


I have a bad cold. The awful dry cough started yesterday, and then the sneezing started this morning. I spent 24 hours straight in bed. Morning sickness started a little bit yesterday morning, but thankfully has calmed down a bit.

Saw the doctor a few days ago. I told him I wanted to take a more laid back approach at this point, that I didn't want to worry about betas or progesterone levels. At this point, I can't do anything, so I'm not going to stress myself out about it. I'll see him again around 8 weeks. As it stands, I am not yet spotting, so I'm going to just hang on to the faith I have that I won't start. I'll have an ultrasound around July 18. I just have to hang tight until then.

Went to the cemetery today (one year since G's funeral). It helps to water the flowers or just drop by - allows me to feel like I can take care of him in some small way. He's buried in my grandparents' plot. Pop-pop and Uncle M (my mother's brother who passed away in March) are buried there with him.

I've started to talk to this baby a bit, and have twice called him or her by G's name. I know that it is normal, but it made me feel so guilty, so now I'm calling this baby Beulah, mostly because M laughed his ass off when I suggested the name.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007


So we did it again. M and I are expecting a leap day baby! We clearly have no problem getting to the "being pregnant" stage. Our problems lie in the "taking a living and healthy baby home" stage. We lost our son G a year ago this past weekend (happy father's day!) at 36w4d because of a problem with his umbilical cord. We had an early miscarriage before that. It's clear to us that there is no safe point in pregnancy.

Despite being gripped by intense fear, I'm stupidly excited. I keep going back and forth between feeling like this time it will be different and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm too afraid to even say it outloud.