Our second miracle has finally arrived.

When Baby Bo's due date was decided to be August 19, 2012, I can honestly say I never gave credence to the idea of being pregnant the entire month of August. We "evicted" Spencer the day before his due date, and I just assumed Bo would come around that time as well.

I was wrong.

August 19 came and passed. As it did, we made an appointment with a nurse midwife, who later that week, said she would be willing to wait up to two more weeks, possibly even up until September 9 to induce. I felt pretty frustrated and discouraged. I was only dilated 1 cm and barely thinned out. Realistically, I knew that the end of the pregnancy was coming soon, but with all of the pain sitting, walking, standing, sleeping, doing stairs... basically ANYTHING that I had been enduring the previous couple of weeks, and nearly a month's worth of seemingly pointless contractions, it felt like we would never meet this baby!

I decided to continue on trying "home remedies" to prepare the body for and/or induce labor... evening primrose oil capsules, spicy food, walking, stairs, pressure points, baths, etc. Heck, I even let Jake bounce me around on a teeter totter, and I did 120 jumping jacks one night!

On August 31, we had a third appointment with the midwife. They wanted to do an AFI ultrasound (amniotic fluid index) and a non-stress test before the long holiday weekend. The appointment was set for ten in the morning, but they didn't call us back until 10:57. I was annoyed. The ultrasound took about four minutes, and the doctor came in saying everything looked fine, and making some stupid jokes about how I wanted to hold out until labor day. Ugh.

They sent us upstairs to my midwife, and Jake left to run a few quick errands while I did the NST. Everything seemed to be going well by my analysis, and it was obvious that I was having a few "light" contractions from time to time. The NST took quite a while. The midwife was waiting on the report from the doctor from the AFI and he was not getting it to her. She came to check on me a few times, once saying something like, "since you are do far overdue (almost two weeks past the 19th), we want to be very careful in things, or just get the baby out..." as she walked out the door. Confused and a little alarmed by the wording, I sent Jake a message telling him her words and how I wasn't sure what they meant exactly. A while later, the nurse finally came in and said the ultrasound showed baby was healthy, buty fluid was lower than they liked, and that meant they were going to induce me. She then said the midwife was going to call the hospital and schedule it, but they didn't know when precisely yet.

Oh, I forgot to mention that earlier that week, at our second appointment, they scheduled an induction for 6am on Wednesday, September 5, and I was then 2.5cm and starting to thin (yay for the teeter totter! Haha).

She then left and I text Jake, who showed up minutes later. He seemed a bit anxious, whereas I was just confused and tired of being in the NST room.

Finally, we were told that at 3pm that afternoon, we should arrive at the hospital for check-in, and that a different nurse-midwife would be delivering the baby.

We left in a state of shock. I didn't expect to be induced that day at all. After always waiting... and waiting... and waiting... I was certain that I would be pregnant until the following Wednesday. I had hoped to have the baby way before so that my sister, who spent the summer living with us, could be one of the first to meet him/her, and she also was planning to watch Spencer the first night we were in the hospital. Fortunately, she wasn't moving home until the next day.

We told our parents and siblings, packed our bags, and ate lunch, then the hospital called asking us to come in an hour earlier to get things started. So, off we went.

As luck would have it, though, they promptly checked me in, hade get ony gown, hookede up to the monitors again, and then... I waited for three hours while they figured out what was going on. It seemed to take forever. I laid/sat on the bed for almost two hours staring at this creepy freaking pigeon across from my window who sat there, statuesquely staring in my window, not moving. He actually recruited a friend to help creep me out, and they were both there until dark. I was relieved when my friend Sam showed up to keep me company and we walked a mile.

Finally, at 5:20pm, I met the nurse-midwife who would deliver the baby, Teri (who I loved!), and got the pitocin started. I felt like things were finally, officially, underway.

They were slow moving for a while yet, though. Jesse, make's twin, Sam's boyfriend, came, and then they brought us supper. Creepy birds kept staring. Jillian ce to visit. Jake tan home to put Spencer to bed and get his guitar around 10.

I sent him a text around 10:30 or so saying things were starting to get more painful. He got back to the hospital around 11. By this pint, my times are more approximate, but pretty accurate yet.  I was in some deal of pain now, but getting through it on my own. Within the next half hour, my water started leaking and the pain intensified greatly. I was checked and at 7cm. I told them I was thinking about pain relief but unsure yet.

Then, it felt like my hips were going to shatter. I wasn't having back labor like I did with Spencer, bit it was in my hips and lower abdomen. After talking with Jake, initially I decided that the next some sometime came to check on me, I would request an epidural. My plan had been that I would try to do without, but also that I didn't want to torture myself. Plus, it was late, and I was already exhausted.

The contractions then were steady and painful to the point I had tears. I "agreed" to let Jake get the nurse early and ask for the epidural. This was probably my saving grace and I am thankful he suggested that he would do that for me.

The epidural was administered at 12:25am. It wasn't a fun process. The contractions were every minute lasting minute and a half and having to sit up and hold still as the stuck things in my spine... yeah.  After all was done, the anaesthiologist said it would take around twenty minutes to reach full effect but each contraction would gradually be more bearable.

And... it was, for a little while. But then, around 1am, the pain returned... for transferred, to my back area. Each contraction brought on more pain and pressure. I felt like my insides were going to explode. I had incredible shakes and tears that I could not, for the life of me, fight back. I have never trembled so ferociously in my life. It really scared me, and I told Jake that.

He went and found a nurse who came in and checked me out. Said I was almost ready and that the shakes were a normal side effect. Wretched. As she left, I swore I could probably just have the baby then and there and kept telling Jake that it just needed to be over with NOW.

I felt like pushing, but held back because I was told I wasn't ready, and also, there were no doctors in the room.

Finally, at about 1:45 I was told I was ready to push. So, they helped me roll over and got everything ready, and the next 21 minutes were nothing short of the most painfully, horrific, torture-filled minutes of my life, pretty sure. I believe I told everyone a few times how it "hurt so much" and that I wasn't sure I could do it. Teri told me I could, of course, and was basically on the verge of being done. I had an excruciating leg cramp right before I delivered, and I screamed like I do not recall ever screaming before. I think it freaked Jake out a bit. And then...

Jake proudly announced "IT'S A BOY!"

Collin Liam was born at 2:11am, Saturday, September 1, 2012.

Teri handed him to me immediately and I snuggled him as they cleaned him off. He did not cry, not really. He made a little whimper that lasted maybe 5 seconds after delivery. He just stared at me peacefully. It was surreal, as Spencer screamed for around 40 minute when he entered the world. Truth be told, Collin did not cry for more than 8 collective minutes in the course of his first 24 hours after being born.

Teri, shortly after the birth, said something to the effect of "oh my gosh! I have NEVER seen this before!" It freaked me out, for sure, because she hadn't handed him to me so I couldn't see what was going on. She told us, "this little guy has some angels out there. He has a double knot in his cord."

Woah. Somehow, in utero, Collin had flipped around so much that he tied not one, but two knots in his umbilical cord, one right atop the other, and they were tight. She showed us. It was a bit terrifying, as she explained that could be fatal.she kept saying two knots is just crazy. Guess Collin really was a dancer, like his nickname, Bojangles.

After he was clean, I passed him off to Jake, who cuddled him a while longer. I just stared in awe, thinking how wonderful it is to have two sons. Two of Jake's boys. Two little buddies. I couldn't take my eyes off them as Teri stitched me up.

Collin weighed in at 8 pounds, 13 ounces, and measuring 20.5 inches tall.

Spencer calls Collin "baby." It's adorable. He looks for him in the basinette if he hasn't seen him in a while. He has tried to help feed him once, and he laughs hysterically if Collin has the hiccups.

We love having two little boys. It's going to be quite an adventure.

Nerves.

I remember, shortly before Spencer was born, getting a little anxious and nervous. As a first time mom, I didn't know what to expect.  I tried not to worry and dwell on it too much, seeing as how it wouldn't make a difference, and I think, overall, I kept myself pretty calm about the upcoming labor and delivery of our first born child.

On Sunday, I will be 37 weeks pregnant.  Spencer was born the day before his due date (as a result of induction).  If Bo follows suit, I have about three weeks left.  Of course, there's no real way to count on that, so I am trying to keep myself mentally prepared to become a mother again at any time now.

It's nerve-wracking.  Again.  Still.  It's the same, but it's different.  I think I might be more nervous this time, actually.  It doesn't make a ton of sense to me, but at the same time, here I am, day in and day out, thinking about what's coming up really soon.


Why am I nervous?  Well, I know that each and every birth is different, just like every pregnancy.  While I was induced with Spencer because he was assumed to be "large" at full term, he was 8 pounds 2 ounces at birth.  That's not... that large.  I haven't been great about taking photos this pregnancy, because Spencer keeps me pretty occupied, more than anything, but I managed to take a snap a photo last week at the mall.  Below, we have Spencer v. Bo.  It looks as if Bo is even bigger than Spencer.    I haven't gained much as far as poundage goes (I really didn't with Spencer either, both times, I lost, then started to gain it back, and was only a few pounds over pre-pregnancy weight with Spencer, right where I am now with Bo).  


Seeing that I appear larger this time makes me nervous.  Will it be harder this time?  Will Bo be bigger, really?  Or is it all just an illusion.  I don't want a cesarean if I can help it, which is why they induced last time.  Will I end up with one this time?


I know I shouldn't worry about it, because worrying really makes no difference, but I wonder anyway.


I had an epidural last time.  I am hoping to avoid one this time, for no reason other than the thought of injection in the spinal column is creepy.  I dealt with it last time, because once I was about 5cm dialated or so, I was having intense back labor.  Well, my placenta this time is right near my spine.  Does that mean I'll have intense back labor again?  If so, I'll probably give in and get an epidural. I know it's nothing to be ashamed of, but they still make me nervous, even if I had one last time.

And then there's the worry I had last time: Will Jake make it in time?  He works on the road again with this job.  Last time, we were lucky in that we scheduled to induce so he was there.  But, had I gone early, would he have been last time?  Will he be this time?  I am terrified to think that second labors often go more quickly, and if I didn't realize I was in labor right away, would it give him enough time to get to the hospital?  I can't imagine him missing the birth of our child.

Then, of course, there's post birth nerves: Will Spencer adjust?  Will he love or hate the new addition?  Will I be a good mom to two?  Sometimes I feel like a cruddy mom to just one!

I know in the end, it will all work out according to God's plan and I shouldn't worry as much as I do.  But, it sure does come naturally.

Transitioning

The past few nights, Spencer has been fighting sleep pretty badly.  Even for Jake the other night, he cried and screamed a few times before finally giving in to sleep.  My sister, Samantha, and I discussed it briefly tonight, as I was mentioning how it stresses me out, though I try not to let it.

After talking for a few minutes, we both concluded that it's probably a reaction to all of the transitions that have been going on the past few months, as well as those that he may be able to "sense" that are coming up over the next few months.

Now, I know I've mentioned some of these transitions and changes in blogs prior (though I truthfully haven't been keeping up with blogging as much as I would normally do, partially because Spencer's taking more and more of my attention and focus, and also I've been spending time with people when they're around and available), but tonight, I was thinking about them all over again.

I realized I'm more stressed out about things than I let myself show.  I guess that's okay, because I'm probably more pleasant to be around that way, but internally, it might be wearing me down a bit.  So, here I am, blogging again, finally.

As I've said, Jake has started a new job with Washington National. He loves it, and he's doing well, which is a huge blessing, because it's meaning I'm still able to stay home with Spencer and grow baby Bo.  But, of course, the three nights away/four days away in a row (most weeks) takes a toll on all of us.  We're still adjusting, I think.  It's hard sometimes to be the soul parent in the house for that many days, only to have everything thrown for a loop when Jake finally comes home.  Schedules differ, though I try to keep things consistent, and Spencer doesn't understand really, though he seems to be doing pretty well being flexible.

Jake and I have been trying to adjust, still, too, the two of us, and our marriage, to the new stresses and changes of his job.  Sometimes, it seems a lot harder and more stressful than I imagined, but other times, it seems like nothing's changed really.  But, it's hard, and I've been really emotional about it.  And he's been really busy, so it's not always worked out the easiest to sit down and talk things through or have one-on-one time.

Then, we've been a one-vehicle family for about two months now while our other vehicle has issues.  We haven't put the money into fixing it yet, because we've been saving up to move.

Yup, we're moving.  More on that shortly.

Two weeks ago, or so, my sisters both came to stay.  Allison, who is 13 now, stayed for two full weeks, and then on Sunday, left with my dad and brothers who came to visit.  Spencer loved having her here, and was really actually distraught when they all left us on Sunday.  He threw quite a little tantrum as soon as they walked out the door, actually.  Fortunately for him (and for me) Samantha, who is 17, is still here and is staying the duration of the summer (give or take a few days or weeks).  She's been an amazing help, I must say, in not only caring for Spencer (especially during these 100°F or hotter days when I still try to get him outside for at least a short period here and there), but also keeping me, miss hormonal-eight-month-pregnant-stressed-out-mommy in a somewhat stable emotional state.  Gosh, I'm so lucky to have her.  Seriously.

Allison is coming back in a few weeks, with my dad, who is going to help us move.  Yes, back to moving.  When Spencer and I went to visit my family in my hometown in June, we all came home to new neighbors.  Now, friends of mine on Facebook especially can vouch that I complain about our neighbors pretty consistently, and have since we moved in, basically.  I think we've gone through five different neighbors or sets of neighbors since we moved in, and only one of them (borderline two) were what I call "good" neighbors, who didn't party, stomp, slam doors, yell, etc. at various hours of the day and night.  The new neighbors are just as loud, if not louder, than ones in the past, and when we got home and found them (heard them) living above us in the middle of the night, Jake declared we were going to move.

So, I spent the better part of two or three weeks trying to track down a rental place (because we're still not in a position to really buy a home) that would have enough space, in our current budget (with Jake still acclimating to his job), and allow our dog.

Sadly, as we drew closer to our "deadline" for securing a place so we could move within our time-frame, we realized we weren't going to be able to keep Wendell with us this time.

We're blessed again, in that my dad (and siblings who live with him) offered to keep Wendell for the duration of our lease, until we can/will move again and can have him back.  Now, I will admit, our dog has the knack for driving me completely up a wall, but I love him very much.   We've had him since we were first married (minus a month and a half), and as I joked with Jake "I've spend more time with him than my actual husband" (because Wendell is always home with me, or at least 99% of the time).   Not only do I love him, but Spencer does.  Wendell is his puppy, his dog, his pal.  He talks about him and gets excited and calls all dogs "Wen-doh!" now, even though he knows that they're dogs/puppies and can say and identify them as such.

To picture the next six to twelve months without Wendell by Spencer's side makes me cry.  I'm not even kidding.  I've cried many times since realizing we couldn't have him this next move.  But, knowing that my dad will have him, and we can still see Wendell, and can and will have him back again helps.  Thank goodness!

We finally did sign a lease for a 3 bedroom, single family home.  It's a pretty nice, older place. It's got its perks and it's downfalls, but it will work for us.  We were really feeling stressed and rushed to find a place and move before our next child is born... sometime in the next 5-9 weeks, most likely.  It's less than 7 weeks until my official due date!  We knew it'd be easier on us all to move and get settled into the "new" place before we brought home a new baby, so finding one, signing the lease, and getting over there has become a main focus of our days.

Well, now it's to the packing part.  We signed to move in on July 14.  We did this last Friday, giving us approximately two weeks to go through and pack all of our stuff again. Fortunately, we're moving about a mile (maybe two?) from where we live now, so it's not a huge move, but it's still stressful.  I find it especially stressful, because, much like last time we moved, I'm nearly full-term in a pregnancy, and I'm not allowed to do what I would normally do while moving, lifting and hauling stuff.  Yes, I can fill a box, but after that, chances are I'm not supposed to be carrying it around.  And this time, we have a "helpful" toddler around who is making it pretty challenging to get much of anything done on a daily basis.

Then, we'll be moved... and transitioning to a new home.  Do we transition Spencer to his toddler bed before we move?  Right when we move?  A while after?  Originally, my reasoning for wanting him in the toddler bed was that it was physically straining me to lean over his crib railing to pat him to sleep over and over every night.  But then, we did the sleep training thing and for the most part, he is fine on his own (except the past few aforementioned nights).  So, is the necessity still there? I don't know. I don't know what would be easier on him and easier on us.  I know when we stayed at my mom's for four nights, he was trying to sleep in a new room, in a different bed (his pack and play) and he did NOT do well.  So, part of me is afraid to switch him to a toddler bed at the same time that we move, and wait it out, or do it now.  I just don't know.

And then... we'll have our second child.   We won't have our dog.  My sister may or may not be here for a bit after the new baby is born, I don't know, she hasn't really decided (either way is fine, I don't want to pressure her).  Jake will be home for two weeks or so to help me and Spencer (and himself) adjust, but then he'll be gone.. and it will be me, and Spencer, and baby Bo.  Will Spencer like having Bo around?  Will he hate it?  Will he act out?  Will I be able to handle it?  Will I be able to find help if I can't?  Will I ever sleep again?  Will we... will I... be okay?!

There's just SO MUCH going on!

Gah!

Okay, that was long.  I commend you, and thank you graciously, if you managed to read the entire thing, and have any input, advice, commiseration, or... anything... to say afterward.

Bless you.

Some Worries

I am currently almost 29 weeks pregnant.  While I'm getting really excited (last night, I was sitting on the couch, late, all alone, giddy out of my mind almost thinking about how I can't wait to find out if Bo is a boy or a girl and what his/her name really is) about it all, suddenly, I'm also filled with worries again.

Now, I've been worried slightly about random little things the entire time.  Where, in this two bedroom place, will we keep Bo's clothing?  I decided in a small dresser in Jake's closet (Spencer and I already share his).

We'll let Bo sleep in a bassinette in our room until we find a new place.  So, I'm not worried about that as much.

You get the hint. Just little things, mostly dealing with space issues.  But, I've resigned to knowing we'll figure it out and we won't be here forever anyway.

But, last night, as I was getting really excited about the arrival, who will tell me "It's a boy/girl!" when Bo arrives (I hope Jake, actually gets to announce it), and what we will then call the baby (we do have names chosen already, and if you'd like to know them, feel free to ask), I was thinking about how we have been trying to get Spencer to say either of the names.

He almost always replies "no way."  I laugh, of course, because I think it's pretty funny.  I thought maybe that'd be a nice interesting nickname for his little brother/sister.

But then, I began thinking about Spencer, and how he will handle it all.

Tomorrow, he turns nineteen months old.

We haven't really done anything to prepare him for the arrival of the new baby.  I haven't really known how or what to do, so I have just done... nothing.  Other than try to get him to say the names we've chosen, I guess.  And occasionally tell him it hurts when he jumps, bounces off, leans into, sits on, etc... my belly.

I've never said why.  Never "that will hurt the baby."  I figured that wouldn't make any sense to him at all.  I figured telling him that I had a baby in my tummy wouldn't make any sense at all, let alone that when he hurts me it would (probably not, but you never know) hurt the baby.  He doesn't understand that it's uncomfortable or painful to me anyway (even if I pretend to cry, or groan, grunt, or actually cry), and it hasn't changed a thing, other than to keep me from sitting in the living room when he's really rambunctious.

He will be about 21.5 months old when his brother or sister arrives.  While I think he's a pretty smart little guy, I just... figured he wouldn't understand me trying to prepare him or explain to him anyway, so I haven't.

Now, clearly, I'm worried about it.

I'm worried about how he will react.  Not necessarily that he'll jump on the baby or hurt the baby in any way, but that he just won't know what to do anymore.  He's been home alone with me (the majority of the time) since February, after being in daycare the majority of his short life.  He plays at parks and at friend's houses, and he's definitely been around other babies at those places, as well as the church nursery, but I know that's not the same as having a new baby in his house ALL THE TIME.

That's very, very different.

I worry about whether he will feel neglected.  I don't believe I will neglect him.  I honestly, still, can't imagine loving the next child as much as I love him.

Yes, that sounds bad.  Hopefully you can understand what I mean, though, and not think that I won't love my next child as much, because I have been assured that I will, despite the fact that I can't imagine it.

Heck, I didn't imagine I would love Spencer as much as I do. I mean, I knew I would love him more than I could imagine, but to keep falling more deeply in love with him, after some really random things sometimes (like watching him stand completely still for 15 minutes or so as he watches hot air balloons launch), it overwhelms me.

I worry that he will feel like he's been replaced.  Or not good enough.  Will he question that later in life?

Neither Jake nor I feel that we are.  We never want him to think that.  In fact, we love him so much that is why we wanted another child.  For us AND for him.  To have a friend.  A companion, a live in playmate, a brother or sister to love, protect, and enjoy with us.

It makes sense to me.

But, I don't know how a toddler mind works.

I feel like I've digressed.

Basically, all I mean to say is that I'm a little worried about how Spencer will react to the big change coming up, and how, if there is any way, to really prepare him for that.

a big change

I have been putting off writing this blog entry for... two months now.


This year, it seems, has been one that's brought on quite a few big changes in the lives of my little nuclear family. 


To begin with, Spencer is one now, and busy as can be, getting busier and more mischievous every day.


At the beginning of the year (January), Jake and I decided that at the beginning of February, I would change jobs.  I went from doing daycare at a friend's house, to being a stay-at-home-mom. It was quite an adjustment.  It still is, actually.  I mean, I think I'm getting the hang of it, have a routine, what-not, and then Spencer goes and changes things and throws me for a loop all over again.  I will admit, sometimes I go stir crazy, am super exhausted, or feel like I'm at wit's end, but generally, I love the change, and I wouldn't trade my time with Spencer for a job, unless I had to, of course.


In the middle of February, another big change came up.  That change dealt with Jake's job.


Jake's been working with Schwan's since a few months before we were married, making him a Schwan's man for six years now.  It's been a long, hard haul, for both of us.  He's enjoyed the job and his customers, but it's taken a lot of long, long days and much time away from home.  He has worked four to five, 12-16 hour days every week.  When we moved to Sioux Falls, he generally had Wednesdays off, every other Saturday, and Sunday, unless they needed him to fill in or do a fundraiser.  It has made it hard to plan for vacations, time with friends and family, let alone time to relax together.  It has always felt like his time off was rushed, trying to get things done in a really short amount of time.


As I said, in February, something new came along.  The opportunity to travel, still, which is something he enjoys about his job (I can't imagine him being in an office all the time), to meet new people (which he also loves), to potentially make more money, and have a bigger "block" of time off.  


He signed on to sell insurance with a company called PMA, toward the end of February.  The past few months have been leading up to the job switch, which occurs over this coming weekend.  That's right, as of Friday (tomorrow), my 5.5 year marriage to a Schwan's man ends.

Now, while this is exciting news, it makes me very nervous, as well.  Yes, there's potential for greater income, which would make it even more realistic (not that it isn't realistic now) to be a SAHM until Spencer (and Bo, possibly) go to school.  That's an amazing thing that we're really looking forward to.


But, with this new job, comes big changes and some sacrifices.

While Jake has always (since we were dating, really) been away from me (and Spencer) a lot during the week, he's been home 6 nights out of 7 the majority of the time.  Because he'll be traveling further distances with his "team," he will be away from home, sleeping in a hotel, 3 out of 7 nights a week.  That's a BIG change.  Granted, ever since Spencer was born, I'm usually asleep (or close to it) when Jake comes through the door after 11pm, but there's something to be said about rolling over in the middle of the night and feeling your husband next to you, or to see him through sleepy eyes a few minutes in the morning (because sometimes he sneaks quietly out if Spencer's asleep so I can get a few more more minutes rest (bless his heart)) that makes the idea of him being gone for two extra nights a week very overwhelming.  I've cried  my eyes out more than a few times in anticipation of the loneliness I'm expecting to feel come next week.

Not only that, but he's been an AMAZING partner in parenthood, and since I became pregnant in December, he has been the one to get up with Spencer (if he wakes) the majority of the time in the night.  So, that'll be a change.


I shouldn't complain, of course, there are many who always are the only ones to get up with their children, or sleep alone, but, as I said, it's going to be a big change for me.


Then there's the fact that he's been home, fairly consistently, on Wednesday every week.  So, he's worked two really long days, been home (not always the whole day, but still, home) for a day, before going back out.  I always have looked forward to the Wednesdays as a "saving grace" for my sanity, especially on harder weeks.  Well, that'll be gone, and we'll be apart for four days straight.  


Not only will I have to adjust to that, but Spencer as well.  Spencer's been known to get "crabbier" as the week goes on, especially if he doesn't see Jake a few minutes in the morning.  I'm very nervous to have him have to go without his daddy for four days, three nights, in a row.    In preparation, we're going to make videos of Jake reading books or playing guitar, so that will helpfully aid in the transition and stabilize Spencer's mood a little when he misses his daddy.


The thing I am looking forward to most, I must admit, is knowing that we'll have three days together, in a row, weekly.  It's going to be amazing.  I know that once the transition period is over, that will really be something spectacular, and I'm holding onto that hope to get through the hard weeks ahead.  It will be great to be able to go on a weekend trip more than an hour or two away, and not feel totally blitzed by traveling.


Also, there will be more opportunity and flexibility for holidays and vacations, or time off when our child is born.


And then.. there's.. Baby Bo, coming in August (God willing).  That's going to be a huge change.  I feel like going from zero children to one wasn't a shock to our family, but I feel like going from one child to two with my husband being gone so much IS going to be a shock.


I'm scared.  I don't know if I'll be able to handle everything on my own.  To have a toddler as busy as Spencer and then a newborn who is very needy is going to be tough.  I'm not looking forward (in fact, I'm downright dreading and scared) to being without my husband three nights a week, as I fight (if things continue with Spencer not wanting to go to bed for me) SJ to sleep, and then getting up every two to three hours with a newborn.  With Spencer's daily nap duration dwindling as well, I'm terrified to think of how exhausted I'm going to be.  I'm afraid I'll be entirely overwhelmed and an emotional, mental, and physical wreck.  Trust me, I've cried over these fears many a time already, too.


I am fortunate, I believe, that our children are so young (well, Bo will be) that the transition will most likely be easier on them, than say, if they were in elementary or preschool.  I think that they'll grow up just feeling that "this is how it's always been," and they will be okay with it.  I hope. I fear it won't be, but I hope that it will.


So, there's that.  Next week, the second big change in our lives this year is going to occur. 


 I will admit, I am very much looking forward (as in, I can't describe it) to having my sister, Samantha, here with me this summer.  I remember being exhausted and such when pregnant with Spencer in the summer, but I wasn't a full-time mommy then, and I wasn't full-term.  So, she's going to be such a huge blessing.  Not that I intend for her to be a maid or live-in-nanny or anything like that.  I can't wait to have fun with her, and to have her company, especially getting used to Jake's absence.  I hope she enjoys being here as much as I'm enjoying the idea of her coming.


Of course, at the end of August, she'll have gone back home, Jake will be back on the road... and then... I'll be here with Spencer and Bo, alone.  Yup, I'm back to that.  I'm terrified.  But, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there.  That will be big life change of 2012 number three.


I'd appreciate your prayers for our family during this transition and change.  I know that Spencer (though he can't express it) and Jake will too.

a sense of hope

This week, April 22-28, 2012 is National Infertility Awareness Week.

Click here to learn more.

As my friends, family, and long-time blog readers know, infertility is a battle that my husband and I have been a part of, since before our marriage.   I've known for years (since puberty) that something was 'wrong' with me.  I shared these fears and worries with Jake before we ever discussed getting married someday, and from the beginning, he's stuck by me.

We were married for over three years, hoping, praying, and trying to begin a family.    We were married on August 5, 2006.  After the urging and prompting of a dear friend, we finally sought the help of a reproductive endocrinologist in November of 2009.  It was there I was "diagnosed" with Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).   (I use the term "diagnosed" loosely, because it's not something they necessarily tested for and labeled me as in a chart, but rather, they ruled out other issues via blood work and ultrasound, and based the PCOS diagnosis on my presenting symptoms.  I have quite a few PCOS symptoms.  Click here for more PCOS information.)  We sought the RE's guidance, and with the help of oral medications to induce ovulation, as well as an hCG trigger shot, we went on our marry way, trying to conceive.

On February 22, 2010, I tested positive, on a PREGNANCY test.  I couldn't believe it!  We were absolutely overjoyed.   After a fairly wonderful, healthy pregnancy, Spencer was born on November 1, 2010.

On August 7, 2011, after a few more months of seeking the help of our RE, following the regime that helped us conceive Spencer, I tested positive on another pregnancy test.  Though, as life would have it, we lost Baby "Sprout," at 8 weeks gestation.  (You can read about that pregnancy, loss, and journey healing here.)

Though devastated, we never gave up.  After two months of being on birth control to help my system "heal" after a D&C, we tried again.  And on December 12, 2011, we learned that I was pregnant for a third time.  The pregnancy with Baby "Bojangles," or "Bo" for short, has been going well, though I've always been a little edgy about it going rapidly downhill like my last one.

In a nutshell, that's my infertility journey.  You can read more about it through these posts, if you'd like.

Once you've begun to struggle with infertility, you never forget the grasp it holds on your heart.  A Facebook status I read, and shared yesterday, hits the nail right on the head.  It reads:  Infertility is a heart-wrenching, faith-questioning, relationship-testing, life-altering experience. April is Infertility Awareness Month. Whether a friend, a family member, a colleague or yourself has fought through this difficult fate that MILLIONS of women and men are fighting day in and day out. Post this as your status if you or someone you know has walked to hell and back for the chance to be a MOM or DAD.

I remember, when we first started trying, it felt so hopeless, so very often.  I had a few other friends that were also struggling with the infertility demon alongside of me, which made it more bearable, but not always more hopeful.   I could read, and did read, many testimonies of people who struggled and eventually held a miracle in their arms.  I knew you could become a mother through adoption.  I knew I was never without all hope.  But it didn't always feel that way.

It honestly wasn't until a friend, and then another, the same ones I struggled alongside, got pregnant, that I really felt there was true hope for me.   I had prayed to God throughout the journey, but it seemed, to me, at least, I needed reassurance, close-by and interacting with me on a regular basis, that it REALLY could happen for Jake and I.

And, it did.

When I blog about infertility struggles, or the struggle of healing after a miscarriage, or the joys of being a parent post-battles, I do it for me, of course, to document and share my thoughts, with myself and my friends and family.  But, I also do it for people I don't know.  It may sound strange, but I do anyway.

And, occasionally, I receive messages from friends, acquaintances, and even people I do not know, sharing with me what I shared with my two supports.   That my story gives them hope.

I feel beyond blessed to read messages like that.  Do I deserve to have them sent my way?  No, not really. I don't feel like I've done anything spectacular for others that warrants me to be a beacon of light or hope in along the darkest path known to a woman who wants to be a mother.  But, I am blessed to be, and to know that I have been.

It always hits my heart like a dagger when a friend tells me that they've been trying so hard for so long, that they suffer with infertility, too.  Especially if it's been going on a while before I knew.  I don't feel like I need to know, by any means, but when I do know, I can instantly relate to them.   And, knowing how ashamed one can feel when they feel broken, insufficient, or inept, I feel honored that they trust me enough to share that secret with me.  Not everyone who suffers through this battle is public about it.  That's okay.   But, sometimes, I must admit, it does help to reach out to someone.  Whether you know them or not.  Just to let someone out there know.  Have someone to cry to if you need to, or to vent to, whatever.  

There is hope out there.

I feel like I've been babbling for quite a while, so I'm going to go.  But, I'm going to leave you with a video that another friend of mine shared yesterday.  It is... powerful, for lack of a better word.  I can relate to it.  So can my husband.  So can some of my friends.  So can millions of others that I do not know.

Almost Due.

It's almost April 18, 2012.

That wonderful Wednesday, my youngest sister will turn 13. Man, that makes me feel old!

That same Wednesday, last August and September, was slated to be our due date with Baby Sprout.

I can so clearly recall how "perfect" we thought that pregnancy worked out to be. I mean, really, being due on my sister's special birthday!? It was AWESOME. I for one, had prayed about it constantly since I calculated what that date would be, just asking God to allow it to happen. When I tested positive early morning on Sunday, August 7, I was shocked with disbelief, but through the roof with excitement. We told my sisters about the baby that morning already, we were so overjoyed!

And, as life would turn out, we lost Baby Sprout in the middle of September. Grieving and healing from the loss of the baby was a huge process to me. It was overwhelming for days before I finally could make it hours without crying. And over the weeks, and months as my body healed from my D&C, my mind started to heal as well, with the prospect of trying again for that second birth.

A sidenote: Sometimes, I get confused as to what to call Baby Bo. Is Bo my third child? Or is Bo my second child? I opt to say second child because it's less confusing for everyone else. Second child, third pregnancy, perhaps?

Anyway... On December 12, 2011, I tested positive again, and was cautiously optimistic and excited with the "perfection" of this pregnancy as well. As I had calculated that due to be August 26, 2012, which was just days after Jake's twin and his girlfriend, one of my best friends, were to be home for a wedding from Alaska. It seemed another pregnancy too "perfect" to be true, and for weeks I was scared of the same fate. Jake and I relish every movement (even if they wake me, or if Bo seems to be trampolining off my bladder during a 2.5 hour car ride) that we feel, knowing that Bo is alive and growing and gearing up to meet his/her family.

Now, I'm 21 weeks along, with an adjusted due date of August 19, 2012. We, again, are beyond overjoyed at the idea of bringing a sibling into this world for our wonderful son.

When I got my memorial tattoo for Sprout in November, it really helped me to find peace in the situation. Never once was I really mad at God (as I shared in a group not long ago at Operation Prom Dress), but I was frustrated, sad, and disappointed that it all happened. But then, it was like a release. Letting go of the sorrow as much as I could, I guess, and moving on to what lies ahead.

And I don't think I've cried over the loss since.

Until last night. Out of nowhere, it seems. I guess I was thinking about what the date would be next Sunday, when Jake and I have plans, and how my sister's birthday is only a few days after. And then I realized.. that was our due date. If that pregnancy had gone well, I would be due any day now. Or maybe, just maybe, we'd have already met Sprout. Maybe we'd know if Sprout was a boy or a girl. Maybe... And I got to wondering if Sprout was our son, or our daughter. I feel like the baby was a boy, though of course, there was no way for us to know.

I started sobbing. I told Jake that in over a week and a half, Sprout would have been due to be born. It was so overwhelming.

But, of course, I realize I am already over halfway through this pregnancy with Baby Bo. God gave us this gift, too. And this time, God willing, we've been able to progress smoothly, and God willing, will be able to meet our son or daughter in 19 or so weeks.

While it doesn't take away the loss, it helps to cope, some, I guess. But I'm torn. It's hard to be sad about the child we lost while we are getting ready for another child, now. But, Bo will never replace Sprout. Bo is just the given we were given after Sprout left us. And it's okay to be sad, I think. It's okay.

I'm not going to let it bog me down. I'm not going to dwell on it and take away from my sister's birthday. I decided if I wrote out how I feel, maybe, once again, like it did right after the loss, it will help me cope and move on. So, here's to that prayer.

It's been almost 2 months together.

Let's just be honest. I haven't blogged much lately. Not for lack of things to blog about, mind you, I've had a ton on my mind. In fact, as much as I would say I need to de-clutter the computer desk, I feel the need to de-clutter my mind, as well. Hopefully over the next few days (or weeks...) I can write it all out and find some more peace inside that chamber of thoughts.

Why haven't I blogged? A few reasons. The first is that I've been busy. I haven't been on a bunch of exciting or awesome vacations (though, I have visited my parents and siblings a few times), but rather, Spencer keeps me pretty occupied. And with the unseasonably nice weather we've been having, I've been trying to get us out and about (whether in the yard, or parks, or play dates), and not just hanging out in the living room all of the time.

And also.. I am EXHAUSTED. I remember being tired when I was pregnant with Spencer, and I had a job and all that, but hey, I feel like at least then, when I was super tired, I could rest. Now, my resting is dictated by a 17 month-old who just doesn't see the need to rest himself. Ah well.

We've been spending time with my cousin, who is also one of my best friends, during small chunks of the day a few days a week, as she comes over for lunch (she works blocks away).

Oh yeah, and I'll admit, I've been reading the Hunger Games triology. My husband purchased them on the nook, and we've both been reading them. I must say, while I'm not a fan of a lot of murder/death/gruesome reading and science-fiction stories... I'm somehow hooked anyway. I can that about the "Ender's" series, as well... books I was hooked on (of the sci-fi genre), that I never would have thought I'd become hooked on.

Anyway...

Although I was super comfortable in bed (for once) and nearly asleep, my neighbor and her boyfriend decided 9:45pm would be a good time to start an argument, so... I forced myself out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, where I now find myself.

Voila. A blog post.

It's not about anything weighty, or many of the subjects that bog my mind down and keep me awake, but rather, about the last two-ish months of being a stay-at-home-mom.

My husband asked recently, in summary, if I like being a SAHM and want to keep doing it.

Despite some reservations about the "gig," I told him I certainly would, as long as I am able to.

I love it. I do, but it's not always an easy "job" to love, I will admit.

Sometimes, I get really lonely feeling. Not for lack of having a lovable (and loving), chatty, busy-body with me in the house. But, as much as Spencer talks, and says actual English words now, and will hold a "conversation" with me, it's not the same as having adult interaction. Thank goodness for my cell phone (texts are my favorite), and Facebook. Shallow sounding, maybe, but it's true. I'm very grateful for those luxuries.

Fortunately, though, being a SAHM has given me time and opportunity to cultivate and strengthen friendships with a couple of my other stay-(or work-)at-home-moms that I know. It's been such a blessing to have time to spend with them. Whether it's via text message, email, Facebook message, like I said, which makes it very easy to keep in touch at all hours of the day, or play-dates with them and their sons, it's a treasure to Spencer and I both.

One thing that kind of caught me by surprise was the idea of "getting a lot done" around the house... not... so... much... happening. Not for lack of ambition (well, sometimes), but moreover, it seems that every time I start picking something up or organizing it, I have a little "helper," who I always seem to think is adequately distracted and won't notice what I'm doing. I'm generally wrong. Half of the time, it seems as soon as I start washing dishes, even though we won't have been playing or interacting, really, he will run to the kitchen and wedge himself between my legs and the cupboard and push me away from the sink. Or.. if I throw things away, he finds whatever he can find to throw away too.

And let me tell you, getting laundry done is not as easy as I had imagined. I never really saw the "need" to have main floor laundry until I started staying home with Spencer. Our laundry area is in the basement. Occasionally, say, if Elmo is "babysitting," I can sneak away to get it done. But, usually, I do NOT trust Spencer, nor Wendell, for that matter, to be alone, free, upstairs.

I don't really trust Spencer to be buckled into his high chair, and unsupervised, either. He's some sort of wizard, I swear.

I know, I should force myself to stay awake at every nap time and scrub the house and wash and dry and tend to the laundry, but as I said before, I am exhausted! I didn't realize that being pregnant with a toddler running around would be so tiring. I don't mean that to sound as a complaint, just a realization of my naivety on the matter.

I also didn't realize how hard it would be to sneak away to the bathroom to do my business... alone. I think he's got some sort of radar for that. I can't tell you how many times he's come barging in (because I don't always get the old, sticky, warped door latched all the way) with his shape sorter. Or if the door is shut completely, someone likes to pound and scream at me.

But, it's not all bad. Not even close, so don't let me fool you into thinking that.

I LOVE being home with Spencer. I loved working outside the home with him, too, of course, but there's something to be said about being able to wear your pajamas or comfortable pants (because I'm getting bulbous) all day if I want. Or to literally, not change him out of pajamas (or re-clothe him) on rainy days when I know we won't be leaving the house.

He has always been somewhat of a "night-owl," even as a newborn, and being that we don't have to be anywhere at a certain time, most days, it's okay with me that he stays up until nine (though I really prefer him to be asleep way before 10), and sleeps until eight... or nine.. or ten... thirty... in the morning. I don't mind not having to get up at 6:30. And, it affords me time, currently, to see my husband on the mornings he is home before work. I will admit, though, it's odd to not have to get up to wake him (either him, actually) in the morning.

I love that I can be attentive to Spencer, solely, as a child. To watch him intensely, as he develops skills, learns words, and uses his creative mind. He's just an unbelievable creation, to me. I tell Jake often that "I can't believe we made him." (Of course, thanks be to God, who had a very large hand in it.)

I love the freedom to visit friends, or family, during the week, if we so choose, and it works out for them. I love not having to cram errands into a half an hour chunk of time in the evening on the way home.

I love being able to relax and enjoy my role as a parent, as frustrating and exhausting as that can also be.

So, overall, I'd say it's been a pretty great two months. The first weeks, two or three, were a breeze. It felt like a vacation. The few weeks after, where the weather was kind of crummy and I was beside myself trying to figure out what to do, how to stay sane, how to continue interaction with others, and how to keep him entertained... were harder. But, I think after that, we've started to figure out our routine, a balance, and a way to make things work.

Of course.. soon enough, it's going to change again, and again, and probably again. But more on that another night. The neighbor is quiet again, and I'd like a snack before I fall asleep.

Jacob

My husband is my best friend. He has been one of my very best friends since shortly after we met in 2001. I never dreamed, then, that I would marry him. But, God blessed me tremendously by giving us the love, choice, and commitment to enter into a life-long marriage. Yes, it will be life-long.

When we were dating, we began discussing the possibility of being married, as well as that of starting a family together. I was straightforward and honest, telling Jake that I just didn't know if I would be able to bear children. I really didn't know. I knew something was up with my reproductive system, and I thought it'd be nearly impossible. (Two years ago, I was diagnosed with PCOS, you can read about that in the "infertility" category if you'd like.) He stuck by me anyway, knowing that chance existed, and just telling me we'd cross that bridge when we got there.

We've been married for 5.5 years now. We have a 15 month-old son who is one of the lights in our world (I would say God, our marriage, and Spencer (and the coming baby) are the main three). We were married for 3.5 years or so before he was conceived, after we consulted a reproductive endocrinologist. I am pregnant (somewhere between 11-13 weeks (the baby is measuring almost a week ahead, but for now, they're not changing the due date) again, with our third miracle. We lost our second miracle at 8 weeks in September of last year.

Jacob is a fantastic provider. Yes, we go through our struggles financially, not always being on the same page with things and being disorganized occasionally, but he has taken the reigns to sort those things out. He is a hard-working man. He works crazy long days (13-16 hour days 4 days one week, 5 days another) in all weather conditions, even when he's sick sometimes. He is great at his job, and has won us trips across the country for being one of the top in sales. He's amazing. He does it to make our lives possible, really. I am guilty of whining at him that he works too much and doesn't spend enough time with me or with Spencer, in the past. I have tried so very hard to look at it from his perspective, in that he works to give us the means to survive. He works FOR us. And he's right. But, sometimes I'm emotional and somewhat selfish wishing he was home more. I feel like I have been better about that over the last year or so than I had ever in the past. Though, sometimes it's hard.

And he's excellent at keeping me from feeling too bad about it. Yup, we've fought about it, but we really both do understand where the other is coming from and we work hard to make it work in all aspects.

But not only does Jake work his job well, but he's an excellent father.

Seriously.

I always felt he would be a great father, but seeing him growing with Spencer in his father-role is phenomenal. It takes my breath away sometimes. I get goosebumps. I get tears. I just want to watch them from behind a two-way mirror so they can't see me, so that I can just take in the beauty of their relationship.

I'm Spencer's mother. He needs me. We have a close bond. I love him more than I love myself admittedly (whether that's good or bad is up for debate, I guess?). He cries when I leave him, though not for long, and he gets excited when I get back.

But, I feel like daddy is his favorite. And that makes my heart sing.

I love that Jake plays a little concert for Spencer during bath-time, and sometimes during bed-time, and sometimes after waking up in the morning, or after nap, or in the middle of the day randomly. I love that he can throw Spencer up in the air, catch him, and I am not afraid that our child will get hurt. I love that he took Spencer sledding a few weeks ago. I love that he reads to Spencer. I love that they play ball occasionally. Or go on walks. Or swimming.

I love that Spencer just loves to do everything and anything (well, mostly) with his dad.

Jake's father role melds beautifully into his supportive husband role. Really. Ever since Christmastime when I developed intense sciatic pains down both sides that literally kept me bed-ridden for almost a week, he has been "super-husband-dad" at night. Because it was so painful for me to move and I couldn't really get up on my own anyway, he just automatically took over night-time duties with Spencer. If he would cry, Jake would be out of bed to tend to him. And, for the most part, Jake still is. He doesn't complain about it, either. I think that maybe he continued to do it because now that I'm pregnant again, I am completely exhausted and I don't sleep well anyway, nor do I fall asleep again very well if I have to get up out of bed. And, I've been sick for a few weeks, too.

Or maybe, he does it because he just loves to see our son. I know that Spencer sleeps best if Jake is the one who gets up with him when he wakes (it's usually only once, if at all nowadays), and I think it's because then he knows that his daddy is home. I don't know.

I know, I am totally spoiled. And, I will admit, I take it for granted and I do not thank my husband enough for it.

He has ALWAYS helped change diapers. In fact, more often than not, if he is home, I don't have to change more than a few a day. He's never complained about having to change a poopy diaper either. In fact, he has always laughed or given commentary all the way through the process. He makes me smile.

Not only that, but even when I was nursing Spencer (way back when he was tiny), Jake would get up occasionally to help with feedings, so I could steal an extra half an hour of sleep and not have to get up every two hours. And then, when we switched to formula, he willingly worked out a night-time shift schedule with me, so we could take turns getting up with Spencer. I know dads who rarely, if ever, get up with their child in the night. Yes, like I said, I am spoiled. Or blessed, if I want to be positive about it.

Jake also makes sure whenever it's possible, that I get time for me. I give almost all of my time to Spencer, and when I'm not solely focused on Spencer, I'm trying to take care of the house, my work outside the home, the dog, and myself. So, Jake gives me time to relax, at home, or away, depending on my needs and his and Spencer's interests at the time. In fact, he is most often the one to suggest I get that personal time. It's another blessing.

He tells me I am amazing. Frequently. And, recently, he has started giving me detailed explanations and examples of why he thinks that is so. Those mean more than I can measure.

And... finally, the most recent and huge thing that Jake has given to me, to our children... and really, to our marriage, in a way...

is the opportunity that started at 3:30 or so this afternoon.

I am now a stay-at-home-mom. I don't know how long it will last, because, well, you just never know what curveballs life will throw at you. But, I do know that every minute, every hour, every day, every week... that I am able to focus on raising our children alone is an immeasurable blessing. It's largely (almost entirely, I feel) possible because of my husband. The role he's taking in managing our finances and providing income. The role he's taken on as protector and leader of our family, both financially, and spiritually. The fact that he is determined to make our lives the best that it can be.

Truthfully, the issue of being a SAHM was brought up by him first. Up until I was pregnant with Spencer, it was something I never really wished for, or dreamed that I would want (as I mentioned in this blog post a few weeks ago). And even then, I was terrified to wish for it too hard, because my puny little mind just never thought it was possible. But, a month ago, when he suggested it might be possible and perhaps we should try it, I was amazed. I was overwhelmed with the realization that it might actually happen.

And, it has.

Because my husband, Spencer's father, is who he is.

Thank you, Jacob, for all that you've done- for all of us.

The differences in the first and the third.

A friend replied a few posts ago, requesting that, if I find time, I share some things about this pregnancy that are the same/different than the previous. I am going to compare Spencer and Bo, because I believe I will meet Bo on this earth, and Sprout, I did not. So, it just feels to make the most sense to me to compare Spencer with Bo.

Side note: I'm writing this as Spencer hangs out in the living room with Wendell, watching "Elmo's World." Sometimes, I let myself think that setting him in front of the TV makes me a bad parent. But, I've reconciled that feeling with the fact that I don't set him in front of the TV ALL THE TIME, or even that frequently. Just when I feel I really need a few minutes (3-50, depending on the day) where he's focused on something intensely and that something doesn't include me. It's been a very long week (I've been away from home 11 or so hours a day last Thursday, Friday, and this Monday-Today and including tomorrow) at work, and I am exhausted, and sick as heck, and stressed. So I thought blogging a little might help me relax, as, well, I love to write.

Anyway.

What inspired this post? I'm not going to lie, and I'm sorry if this is disgusting, but... I just was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a soda (in attempt to eradicate a headache that's making me have the urge to bang my head on a wall for relief), when I started gagging so fiercly that my eyes were watering, and therefore, I couldn't see well, and didn't make it to the bathroom before I started losing...

Yup.

It's the same as Spencer's pregnancy: I didn't start getting the gags and throwing up until the second trimester. Well, I'm almost there this time, and sure enough, it's starting to force its way back into my day.

Although, it's worse this time. Really. It's more frequent, more random, and more intense. And, truthfully, when I'm done throwing up, most of the time, I cry about it. Sweet.

Baby Bo is measuring ahead, almost a week. Spencer measured ahead, but only a few days up until I was full term, and then he was a week ahead. I'm kind of scared that Bo will be ginormous!

But everything else feels a little different, and I don't know why. I have cramps and pains that I didn't have with Spencer. I mean, I had them, but barely noticed them then. I don't know if it's because of the little problems we've had along the way this time that makes me more aware, or what.

I am drop-dead exhausted almost all parts of the day. I think part of it has to do with already having a 15 month old. But, who knows. Well, I also think part of it is the progesterone they have me on to help me sustain the pregnancy, and I'm happy to report that I stop using it on Monday! Woohoo! I can't wait.

I don't have consistent cravings, or really food aversions (although the smell of bacon freaks me out). With Spencer, I wanted chocolate milk, tomatoes, and potatoes, frequently. This time, it's pretty random. I guess the exception is Buffalo Wild Wings. Haha. But otherwise, it totally varies.

The sciatica is an issue I didn't have last time. Not even at the end of my pregnancy.

I think I *may* have felt baby flutters this morning.

And lastly (for now, because Spencer's getting tired of Elmo), this time, I feel really self-conscious. As in, I have lost 9 pounds since I got pregnant (as I did with Spencer, I lost a bunch of weight before gaining any back and barely gained more than I was before I was pregnant, which was nice (so that's a similarity for now)), but I feel like I look much pudgier already. I can tell that some of it is baby, whether it's bloat or actually belly, I can't always tell, but it makes me feel awkward. I can't zip and button my regular pants and comfortably sit down, already, and it freaks me out. I find myself nervous about what I wear because I don't want to look like I'm overly-obese or something. Ugh.

And... there's Spencer's crying. More another day, perhaps.

Oh, and another side note: Tomorrow is mine and Spencer's last day of daycare, and then, we begin our journey staying at home together. Wish us luck.

Baby Bojangles, Heart Rate: 185bpm

On Monday, December 12, 2011, I aced my third one of these tests.

For two days, I had been having cramps and "pms symptoms" and though I figure it was too early to take a test, I also knew my cycle wasn't supposed to arrive until at least Friday. So, after texting my husband and a few friends about whether or not I should test, and realizing that when I found out I was pregnant with Spencer, it was following a very similar timeline (an hcg trigger shot on a Wednesday, and a test less than two weeks later, on a Monday), I bought a package of tests and went home. I wasn't going to take one, actually. But then, I had to go to the bathroom really badly. And I decided if it was negative, I'd not get my hopes crushed, because it was still only 12 days post trigger shot.

Well, I dipped the stick and capped it, and then I brought it to the kitchen and propped it vertically (like the directions said) and let it beep the digital timer picture as I started doing dishes. I was going about my business and trying to ignore the fact that it was there, until I rinsed a dish and caught that the blinking had already stopped, a bit earlier than expected. Needless to say, I figured it was negative.

Nope. It said "pregnant."

I tried to call Jake. I was trembling with disbelief. I mean, I had lost Sprout in September, and then had to wait two months while using birth control to heal from the D&C, and this was our first cycle trying again. It couldn't be right, could it?

Well, he didn't answer. So, I panicked, because heck, I needed to talk to someone who could not only keep a secret, but also share in my disbelief-stricken joy. I dialed Desi, my dear sister-friend. She was super excited for me and assured me it was more than likely a positive positive. Gosh, I love her. And then, after a few minutes of exuberant conversation, I tried to call Jake again.. and again... and again.

And he finally answered! And he didn't sound super excited. I think he said he was eating. Haha. But he really was. He assured me. And I KNOW he was.

I was 3 weeks, 1 day pregnant. Wow.

And then, we had to wait nearly a month to get an "official" ultrasound. However, I was having intense pain, so I went in early. At almost six weeks I was having excruciating pain in my back and hips. They diagnosed me with a UTI and kidney infection. They did an ultrasound to make sure it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy, and saw the amniotic sac forming in the proper place, so that was reassuring. Though, after taking the meds for the infection, the pain persisted and got worse, and it was determined I have sciatica on both sides of my body (from my back down to my heels I get sharp pains, it's not awesome), and it may or may not get worse as the pregnancy progresses. Yikes.

If you're a friend of mine on Facebook, two weeks ago today, there's a pretty good chance you would have seen the following picture on your newsfeed (unless you blocked me or something, of course).

The caption I gave the photo read:

Jake and I discussed when to share this news with everyone, as we've known for a little over three weeks. While it's still very early (6w3d) into the journey, we truly appreciated the support we received when we lost Sprout. We thank God for all of you who sent prayers last time, and hope that you could possibly spare a few moments here and there to pray that we are able to hold Baby Bojangles in our arms in August 2012 (estimated arrival: August 26).

We decided to announce early, again. Yes.

Over the following two weeks, I tried to not be nervous about how when I was pregnant with Sprout, the first ultrasound went well, and then by the 9 week mark, we found out we had lost our baby at 7w6d.

I was doing well until I was 7w5d pregnant with Baby Bo and realized it was the last day that Sprout's heart was beating. I've been a mostly silent (about it) ball of nerves since.

Thankfully, prayers work and the ultrasound this morning showed Bo's heart beating rapidly. We heard the heartbeat this week (only saw it two weeks ago) and it was 185bpm. The baby was already moving like crazy (much like Spencer. I think we'll have another boy) and she had to try to get the measurement twice because Bo moved during the first listen/measurement. That was perfect to me!

The crown-rump-length measurement shows Baby Bo is at 8w6d instead of 8w3d, but for now, they're not going to change my due date. We were given a few photos and taken to a consult room where we waited the last part of our appointment.

When the PA came in, she explained to us that I have a small (on the ultrasound screen, it was about the size of Bo's amniotic sac) placental/uterine hemorrhage, which is technically called a subchorionic hematoma. She said it should heal on it's own by 20 weeks, but if I have lots of bleeding to call and come in. If I have spotting, it should be okay, as long as there's not a lot of cramps.

In this day and age, of course, I went to Google, which scared the heck out of me as it told me that it can increase chances of miscarriage, or not heal, and can actually tear away completely and cause harm to the fetus, so I should take it easy and avoid heavy lifting and strenuous exercise and things of that nature. Which makes sense.

I decided I will try not to worry about it. If she says she thinks it should heal, I should just trust her medical expertise, but of course, Jake and I discussed that we will definitely proceed with caution and I should "behave" so as to not increase chances that it does not heal. Other than that, we're just going to pray and hope that in two weeks, and again in four weeks, it has decreased in size or healed completely. Your prayers are appreciated too, if you are so generous as to spare some on us!

Anyway, so... we're pregnant again! Spencer will hopefully be a big brother in the end of August, and we're delighted!