Update

The last time I posted, I was awaiting a miscarriage. It happened. The physical pain was way worse than I thought it would be, mostly because I didn't know if it was normal. I was curled up on the bathroom floor, puking and just miserable. I called the doctor's office crying and they called in pain medications for me. Pat left work early and brought them home for me, but the worst of it was over by that point. So I used them to dull the mental pain.

We decided to take a break from the whole trying to get pregnant thing. We were just plain worn out. About six weeks after the miscarriage, I still hadn't gotten my period. I had been spotting and spotting and just waiting for it to come, but it never did. So on Friday August 20, I took a pregnancy test. And it was positive. So I went out and bought 5 more. All positive.

I called the MD office on Monday and they scheduled me for blood work. My beta was really high, so they scheduled an ultrasound. I was seven weeks pregnant. Go figure. We had about 6 ultrasounds and everything was normal. So at 12 weeks, I graduated from the RE to my OB.

My AFP was abnormal (which is apparently normal after having a T18 baby) so I had a level II ultrasound and everything looked great. I tried my best to relax and enjoy, but it was hard. I was so afraid to get attached. But it was too late, I was already in love. We opted to keep gender a surprise and settled in for a hopefully normal pregnancy.

Fast forward to April 26, 2011. I'm 6 days overdue and scheduled to be induced the next day. But our munchkin had other plans. I wake up and just feel different. Lots of Braxton-Hicks, and figure I shouldn't make plans. Pat asks before leaving for work if he should pack a bag. I say yes, just in case.

11:30 - call the doctor, tell them contractions are 11 minutes apart.

12:30 - no progress. Decide to get a manicure, pedicure and have eyebrows threaded.

2:45 - talk to Pat. He says he's going to leave work early, I tell him not to bother, since contractions are only 8 minutes apart.

3:15 - contractions 5 minutes apart. Text Pat, might be a good idea to leave early.

3:30 - call MD, they say head to hospital.  Call Pat. COME HOME NOW.

4:00 - leave for hospital in rush hour traffic. Contractions are 3 minutes apart. Arrive at hospital by 5. They take one look at me and say, oh dear. Go right upstairs and find out in full blown labor.  Admitted.

6:30 - glorious, glorious epidural.

7:00 - MD says I'll have a baby tonight.

8:30 - MD says let's do some practice pushes.

8:37 - MD says he's going to get gloves on and that whatever I do, don't push!

8:38 - One final push and the munchkin arrives!!!!

Pat says "It's a boy!" and I think to myself, oh my god. He's huge. Turns out he's 9 lbs. 14 oz!! I just laugh. And then cry my eyes out.

I am totally in love with him. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay home with him for about 6 months and I loved every minute of it.

He is such a fun, cute little man and makes me happier than I ever thought possible.

Blast from the Past

It's been 19 months and 1 day since Brienna died. Really? How is that possible? I have no idea. I've been so sad and emotional lately. Everything with this pregnancy reminds me of Brienna and I love it, but get sad at the same time. On Saturday, I wore maternity jeans for the first time since June 2, 2009. It felt so weird. I am carrying so differently with this baby and just can't get away with what I did with Brienna. She was so good to me. I'm feeling kinda uncomfortable, nothing looks good and I just am blah. I don't think it was like that with Brienna ... I remember being uncomfortable right around this time, but it went away. I feel like now, if I eat more than the tiniest bit, I have heartburn and feel like crap. Yet I'm starving and eating everything in sight. I've gained more weight already, and feel like I look huge. And yet none of it matters. I just want to bring this baby home ... I want to hear he/she cry and I worry about it at the same time. SIGH.

Ghosts of Christmas (Eve) Past

Two years ago today, I was sitting on the couch watching PS I Love You (not the wisest choice, given my emotional state) ... the phone rang and it was my OB, telling me that our little Toot did in fact have Trisomy 18. I was alone at the time and started crying. I called Pat for him to come home from work, called my parents and then cried some more. Poor Bailey didn't know what to do. She brought me all her toys, then eventually climbed on the couch with me and just snuggled. I distinctly remember getting up and starting to clean the house, repeating to myself over and over "falling apart is not an option" ... Pat came home, my parents came over to give us a hug and the beginning of my new life started to set in. Denial, disbelief and waves of pure grief washed over me again and again and again. It is hard to believe that that day was two years ago. Looking back, I never imagined that I would survive; let alone come to love being pregnant and that I would fall in love with my baby girl despite a terminal diagnosis. I also never imagined that the grief could get worse. That the thought of losing my daughter was far less traumatic than actually holding her precious little self in my arms and then having to let her go ...

As I sit here now, with Brienna's little brother or sister growing inside me, I am sad, yet hopeful. I miss my daughter so much. I wish she were here to celebrate Christmas, to anticipate being a big sister. I wish with all my heart that she didn't have to be in Heaven. Yet at the same time, without having lost her, I wouldn't be who I am today. I wouldn't have learned what I'm made of. I wouldn't know that Pat and I have a marriage strong enough to handle the toughest of times. I wouldn't know that the love of your child is one of the most amazing loves in the entire world.

So Brienna, I have to thank you. For giving me the best gift of all time. For helping me realize what's truly important in life and for shaping me into the person I am today. I wish you were here, more than anything, but I know that you're with me all the time. That love truly is stronger than death and that someday, we'll be together again. Merry Christmas, baby girl ... I love you and I miss you so much.

Halloween

In my head I wonder about what you would be.

A tiger? A princess? The world's cutest monkey?

Your dad and I discuss it, he's the only one who knows.

What it's like to imagine but never get to know.

I ooh and I ahh at all the other kids,

but inside my heart is breaking for what shouldn't be, is.

It will never be the same for us, it really isn't fair.

You are up in Heaven, while I am stuck down here.

I miss you sweet Brienna,

I see you only in my dreams.

I love you baby girl.

And so tonight I whisper, Happy Halloween.

Hopeful

I am feeling hopeful. I worry that means the other shoe is going to drop, but I'm trying to stay positive. Things with this little munchkin are looking good. I had two ultrasounds this week: my last one with the RE (which I'm very sad about) and then one with my regular OB. It was the NT scan, and the nuchal fold measured 1.5 mm ... normal is less than 2.5mm. So I was relieved. We did the AFP 1 and won't know anything until after the AFP 2, but there is nothing to suggest anything bad. And it's kind of amazing. I'm starting to physically feel better and I cannot believe that I'm 12 weeks 3 days pregnant. I've only told a very few people and would love to keep things under wraps until 16ish weeks, but I'm not sure that's possible. We have a few family events coming up and me not drinking would lead to suspicion ... but we'll see. There is a part of me that feels like everything is going to be okay and then another part of me that is unsure how anything can ever be okay. Like something bad can always happen. And we're the people that it will happen to. But I'm trying not to think that way. It isn't good for me and it certainly isn't good for the munchkin :)

Too Good to be True?

I am pregnant. Again. I never got a period after the miscarriage and 6 weeks to the day when the miscarriage started, I took a pregnancy test. I'm not even sure why. I had felt a little nauseous at work one night and I knew I might be drinking a lot over the weekend. So after work on August 20, I stopped at Shaw's and bought a pregnancy test. I slept for a few hours, letting my urine concentrate and then peed on the stick. Of course I assembled it wrong so it showed nothing. I slept again for a few more hours, assembled the stick right and saw POSITIVE. I almost shit myself. My first reaction was to smile. Then I hopped in my car, drove to CVS and bought five more tests, all different brands just to be sure. They were all positive. I took pictures of them all. Pat came home a few hours later. We were heading up to Canton for a cousins night (my parents were away) and as we were getting ready, I said, "by the way, I found this out today" and showed Pat the stick. He was like okay, wow. And gave me a huge hug.

Monday rolled around and I called the RE's office, not even sure if I should since clearly infertility didn't appear to be the issue. She said to come in Wednesday for bloodwork. My beta was 6202. She scheduled me for more bloodwork and an ultrasound a week later and on September 1, we learned were 6w1d pregnant. We saw a heartbeat at 132 and Dr. P said based on dates, the ultrasound and my beta (22,000+), things looked good. We went back for another ultrasound this past Wednesday, September 8 and measured 7w, 4d with a heartrate of 150.

So we're pregnant. And I feel more attached to this pregnancy than I did with the one we miscarried. I wonder if when my beta was 50 that time, they knew I'd miscarry right away. I sure didn't, but I bet they did. My due date will be sometime in late April. We have another ultrasound in two weeks and I'm petrified I'll miscarry before then, but hopeful we won't. It feels surreal. It's scary, because I can see myself with a baby this time. I find myself daydreaming about a nursery, a jogging stroller, whether it's a boy or a girl. And when I catch myself, I try to stop because I'm afraid of getting my hopes up. Even though they already are ...

It's strange too, because at this point with Brienna, we didn't know anything was wrong. I would be about to have my first ultrasound, which would show she was small. I was elated at that point, I think. We were so excited to be parents and loved Toot so much ... it's almost scary how much you fall in love even though so much can go wrong. I pray every night that this time is different. That we do bring a baby home. The only person besides Pat and I that know is my crazy lady, Pat. And she has a good feeling about it. And I guess I do too. I know Pat does. So, let's hope I keep anxiety and fear at bay and try to enjoy being pregnant again. Despite the fact that I feel like crap. I've never been so constipated in my life and have heartburn on top of it. I'm exhausted and it's miserable. But I'll take it :)

Wondering

I am jealous. Pat told me today that his cousin is pregnant. Great for them, but breaks my heart. She is 24 and has been married less than a year. I want it to be me. When he told me, my first reaction was to cry. Then I thought, "will it ever be us?". But the thing is, it was us. Those first 17 weeks were awesome. We were happily pregnant, loving the fact that we could share this amazing news with everyone. We were so innocent, maybe even naive. I loved being pregnant. Those stupid "25 things you didn't know about me" on Facebook from a year ago? One of mine was I love being pregnant. Despite what I knew, despite the fact that I didn't know if Toot would live, I truly loved it. I had never felt more beautiful and I just loved having this little life inside me. I understood the miracle of it and knew how fortunate I was to be pregnant.

I want that experience again. Granted, it will never be the same. Ever. Even with this latest pregnancy, I didn't get attached or get excited. Despite the fact that I cautiously looked forward to Feb 4, 2011 (the due date), I knew too much about what could go wrong. And sure enough, it did. I hope beyond hope that we are able to get pregnant again. But I also know, I'll never be truly comfortable. I will always wonder about what might be going wrong, or if we'll actually end up with a baby that comes home with us.

The first time, I thought if we made it out of the first trimester, everything would be fine. We waited until we were 14 weeks along before we told anyone. Three weeks later, devastation (or so we thought at the time). The second time, I just held my breath and hoped and then was let down. If it happens again, I wonder if there will be a magic time when I feel okay about things. Somehow I doubt it. I will wonder if there is a lurking chromosomal abnormality that won't get picked up on ultrasound right away. I will wonder about placenta abruption and every other nightmare scenario. I'll wonder about premature birth and the after effects. Nothing will make me feel safe. And in truth, we're never safe. Even if we have a healthy baby, it means nothing. You can't take anything for granted, because you just never know ...

But I want the chance. I'll live with the fear and anxiety because I want to believe that we'll end up with a healthy baby. I want it to be me again. And I'm nervous that it never will ...