Just A Motivating Monday

My friend Amanda launched her brainchild today: Just a Motivating Monday. It's a sort of inspirational blog carnival, bringing people together to hold each other up on the roughest day of the week. We can share inspirational words or stories to motivate each other and get through the rest of the week.

This week, she queried about our purpose. What do you feel your purpose is in life? Why exactly are you living? It's a question I've asked myself many times in my life and I've always had different answers. My passions are always evolving - they are like living, breathing entities in themselves.

At this moment, I know:

I want to remain true to my wedding vows and deep down be the same woman my husband married three years ago.

I want to raise my son (and future children if I am so blessed) to be healthy, happy and independent. I want to instill solid values and morals in Nate so he is an upstanding young man.

I want to constantly seek ways to expand my mind and skill sets so that I can be a well-rounded individual. I want to create new boundaries for myself - never growing too comfortable in the present.

I want to tap more into my spirituality. I want to lead a more confident, Christian life.

As an IF survivor, I feel it is my duty to share my story. To educate but also inspire or support others in their journey toward parenthood.

I will conclude with a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. that is dear to my heart and helped me in my darker days:

"We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope."

Jinx

Pssst...I have something to tell you.

Why am I whispering, you ask? Because if I utter the words aloud, I am afraid it will never happen again. You might want to sit for this one.

Nate slept through the night last night.

Yes, my son - the chronically sleep-impaired - stayed down in his crib from 930pm to just shy of 6am. That would be 8+ hours of sleep, my friends. It only took 11.5 months to witness this phenomenon but it was indeed miraculous. When I awoke to see the time on the alarm clock, I about fainted. I had forgotten what it feels like to rest uninterrupted and wake up somewhat refreshed. For the first time in nearly a year, I didn't have to fight an inherent need for caffeine.

I'm not a very superstitious person by nature but in this case, I'm sure that by sharing this information, I just jinxed myself.

I don't have my hopes up that this is the start of a new trend. Don't get me wrong - that would be sweet. But if history has taught me anything, it's that we'll be back to wake-ups every 2 to 3 hours tonight. I'd rather find comfort in the fact that, contrary to popular belief, STTN really isn't just a myth. It does exist. And maybe one day, I will experience it again.

17 Going on 16

Days, that is. Until a certain someone's first birthday.

With a little over two weeks to go, I've been engrossed in party planning. Engrossed meaning admittedly going overboard. My vision is coming together but not without its share of stress. As of this moment, we have 40+ invitees and I estimate that aside from a few declines, most will likely show. And our home is simply too small to accomodate that many guests in one place at one time. So, we are depending on Mother Nature to cooperate for an outdoor fiesta. (No silly tricks like a thunderstorm or tornado, ya hear me?!) I've been paranoid that we don't have enough outdoor seating for everyone, so I'm currently researching local farms to purchase some hay bales. To fit in with the whole cowboy theme and all.

Our wooded backyard is quite the hangout for mosquitos so we've been treating the lawn with every chemical known to man to keep them at bay. The last thing I want is for my guests to be attacked by bloodsucking insects and leave with favors of welts.

The biggest stressor is that DH and I just aren't seeing eye to eye about the fundamentals of this affair. I see a first birthday as a fairly big deal. He sees it as just another birthday - one that the kid won't even remember - and so, he thinks we should cheap out as much as we can. Granted, I'm no longer working and money is tight. But I still want to celebrate and do it up right. After all, he's our first son (and possibly only since I am well aware there are no guarantees) and he is only turning one once. It's been a battle of wills and lesson on compromise. After a dramatic "negotiation" regarding the cost of the cake, we are now in agreement and satisfied with our remaining budget. A quick visit to the crafts store and some grub from the grocery store and our corral will be complete.

All in all, I think we'll stay below $300, including invitations, food, decor and gifts. Astronomical, maybe. But it is an important day and I want to treat it as such. We can scale back for future years. But there's something about the first birthday.

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Today is the second anniversary of our second miscarriage. Two years since my little Snowflake was lost. It was fitting that today was pretty shitty in and of itself. Devastating news about a friend. A lingering headache. A disastrous dinner. I'm surprised I'm not in bed already, trying to forget the past 24 hours.

I remember my grief so profoundly. Of course, the knowledge that a real live baby is sleeping upstairs dulls the pain. But I still remember. And I still feel that gaping hole where a part of me is missing.

I've been going back and forth in my mind lately, pondering if I should give names to the babies I lost. Calling them Angel and Snowflake just seems so inconsequential as of late. Part of me feels like they deserve real names. And I should honor them like so. But on the other hand, I never knew their genders. I only have wild guesses linked to ancient instincts. Is it really suitable to name them under these circumstances?

I am still wavering. But no matter the final decision, these anniversaries are always tinged with heartache. I know my babies live in Heaven and serve a much higher purpose than I could imagine but what I wouldn't give to touch their tiny hands and kiss their tiny mouths. I miss them oh so much.

Wordless Wednesday: Sleepyheads

Happy 4th

I hope everyone had (or is having) a safe, happy 4th of July!

Last year on this day, I remember my belly looking as if I were smuggling a watermelon and my feet so swollen that my toes resembled little vienna sausages. Too much taco dip I recall. I couldn't drink then and I didn't drink today. But at least I could indulge in all the food I wanted and still recognize my extremities.

Fireworks are still exploding outside of my living room window and I can see the flashes of colored light between our venetian blinds. The boy is currently checking his eyelids for pinholes after our long day. The noise doesn't seem to be affecting him. Score.

As I was rocking him to sleep tonight, I realized that this holiday would be his last "first". It made the day a little bittersweet but I took heart knowing we celebrated the day to the fullest.

Here are some outtakes:

You know you're in Maryland when crab is served as dinner
and dessert

Daddy trying to coax a smile...unsuccessfully

Ahh, but Mommy has the magic touch!

Happy 4th of July, everybody!

To the little man that colors my world - I love you more than words can say. Happy first Independence Day.

Popping the Question

With Nate rapidly approaching O-N-E (or perhaps love is in the air as we're in peak wedding season?) it seems as if everyone is proposing to me.

"So, when are you going to give Nate a brother or a sister?"

"Are you working on #2 yet?"

"Aren't you ready for another one?"

"You want them close in age, right? You'd better get started/get to practicing!"

"Now that you already have a baby, you can relax and it will happen when you least expect it."

That last one is my personal favorite. What a zinger. It implies that because I was able to carry a baby to term as a result of fertility treatment, I surely overreacted about my condition. If I had just relaxed...silly me. I could have saved myself thousands of dollars if I would have just taken this gem of assvice.

Not only have the suitors above infringed upon my privacy by delving into the topic that is (or rather is not) my sex life, but they've likely never experienced infertility or loss. Or else they'd know what a weighty, complex decision this is. It's not as simple as planning my children X years apart. Because we all know what a joke that is. I mean, my ovaries run amok, popping eggs at their random discretion. And my uterus acts like a choosy bouncer at a private, elite nightclub.

The likelihood that giving birth has somehow hit the reset button on my reproductive system is pretty low. Sure, I secretly hope that I've been miraculously healed but I'm trying to shuck the naivety and live in the land of cynicism. All in the name of self-preservation.

Despite all of the above, I have to admit I've been feeling the pressure to say yes. In the blogworld and in real life, BFPs abound. Most of them welcome surprises - sans third party intervention. And I find myself strangely battling jealousy. I feel selfish for wishing the same for myself. And greedy for craving another so soon when I've already been blessed with one amazing boy. I fear people may look at me and think, "why can't you just be happy with what you have?" They would have a point.

The only answer I have to that is: our family doesn't yet feel complete. I've always seen myself with two or three kids but after all we went through to get here, I wasn't initially sure I wanted to get back on the wagon. I was entitled to change my mind. But seeing how Nate adores other children - how our frequent playdates really bring out the best in him - I am positive about trying for a sibling. He prefers social situations to being alone so I don't feel as though having another baby would detract from him at all. And with me wearing the SAHM badge these days, I feel like there's no better time than the present. Well, we're actually considering October or November around the holidays but we're not preventing so anything could happen. Right?

I know it's foolishly optimistic of me to think I could be one of the urban legends that has an oopsie second. Especially when PPAF has yet to make her grand appearance. But yet this morning I found myself peeing on a stick. Just in case the headaches, fatigue and nausea I've had the past two days were more than just overnight interruptions and one too many cookies. Oh, and lest I forget the gas bubbles disguised as phantom kicks. I fell right back into old habits. Dumb. Dumb. DUMB. The blaring NOT PREGNANT was the wake-up call I needed. At least the expiration date on the stick was this month so I have an excuse. A poor one. But I couldn't stand to let it go to waste.

So, on one hand, I'm gung ho to pull out the BBT. But then I hesitate. I know what I could be up against. Realistically, the journey could be just as long as it was for Nate. Possibly longer. I could lose more babies. Nate doesn't sleep through the night - do I really want to perpetuate the sleeplessness? Especially when I'm home alone all day and sometimes at night as DH works two jobs? What if my recovery is just as hard or even harder? Could I honestly, truly love another baby like I love Nate?

It's hard to imagine I could be so lucky. I feel like I'm on the game show, Press Your Luck. I could win it all or a Whammy could pop up, taunt me and take it all away. But I guess I won't know unless I try.

Laugh and Learn DVD Series - Review and Giveaway!

It's only been about a year but it feels like eons since I was pregnant, sporting a big 'ole belly and wondering what in the world to expect next. I had become an expert on infertility and trying to conceive but I had no clue about how to handle actually being successful. Everyone assured me my life was about to change and I wanted to do everything I could to prepare for the main event. I spent a fortune - buying up every book I could get my hands on in the Pregnancy/Parenting section at Borders to educate myself. From the time those two pink lines popped up on the pee stick, my mind was consumed with questions. Some so embarrassing that I was too intimidated to ask my own doctor, much less my family and friends. As my tummy protruded, I was given so much unwelcome advice and told so many horror stories that my fears overwhelmed me. I looked forward to our scheduled childbirth and breastfeeding classes so I could get the real scoop and make the right decisions for our soon-to-be family.

So, when I was contacted to review the Laugh and Learn DVD series, I happily obliged. I could wax nostalgic about all the first-time wonder, excitement and anticipation. And having now been there done that, I thought I could provide a true objective opinion on the content.

The Laugh and Learn series is hosted by Sheri Bayles, RN, an award-winning Lamaze Certified Childbirth Educator and International Board Certified Lactation Consultant. She draws upon her extensive career as a OB/GYN nurse, her education and her own personal experience as mom to twin boys to provide us with 4 videos that chronicle everything from labor to taking baby home.

A 2-DVD set, Laugh and Learn about Childbirth is an all-inclusive childbirth class divided into (6) 45-minute segments covering labor, delivery (both Cesarean and vaginal births are discussed in detail) and postpartum. There is also a special feature on cord blood banking.

I was very impressed with this class. It certainly lived up to its name, as I found myself chuckling at many points in the video. Sheri was very personable and created a pleasant, relaxed atmosphere. I felt as though I was sitting in her class, observing her as she spoke with other expectant couples. She included the fathers just as much as the mothers in the discussion, which was refreshing. There were no "crotch shots" or up-close-and-personal videos of live birth. Just conversational lecture, some visual aids and Q&A. It is apparent that Sheri is a natural childbirth advocate but was respectful and realistic in the fact that natural is not always possible. She also advised mothers to trust their body and motherly instincts and that it is okay to question medical staff, which I found interesting (in a good way) considering her profession.

I was particularly happy that Sheri did not gloss over the postpartum recovery for vaginal deliveries. The class I attended did not focus much on this and I found myself unprepared to handle the pain and complications that arose after my second degree tear. I was relieved to hear an honest explanation of what to expect physically after the baby arrives.

I wasn't expecting to learn anything new - having recently experienced this all firsthand - but surprisingly, there was information tailored to subsequent pregnancies and births. Not only would this DVD be useful to first-timers but it would also serve as a great refresher course for second or even third timers.

The only minor thing I wish I could change would be to cover more breathing techniques. I found those to be particular helpful during my personal labor experience, but I understand that the majority of couples focus on the most popular approach featured in the video.

The next DVD, Laugh and Learn about Breastfeeding, is a 45-minute class covering topics such as nursing positions, burping techniques, pumping, breastmilk storage guidelines, diet, apparel and challenges. Breastfeeding multiples is also discussed. Demonstrations of breastfeeding positions were given with baby dolls but live examples were also provided, which I found particularly helpful.

I found this DVD to be comprehensive and Sheri was just as witty as in the Childbirth class. I do think more attention could have been paid to the subject of pumping, perhaps with demonstrations of how to work both electric and manual pumps. The task of pumping can be daunting so a presentation would have been helpful for me.

The final DVD in the series, Laugh and Learn about Newborn Baby Care, is a 45-minute class covering bathing, dressing, diapering and swaddling. I personally found this session to be common sense. There wasn't much here that I didn't already know or couldn't figure out on my own. I believe this DVD would be best for those who have little to no experience with newborns. I would have liked to see some discussion regarding sleep issues and colic, but Happiest Baby on the Block remains my favored resource in that area. Formula feeding guidelines for those not breastfeeding would also be a good addition.

Overall, I was extremely pleased with the Laugh and Learn set and would highly recommend for any expectant mom or dad. I wish I had known about the series last year. Not only could I have saved myself over $50 - I spent $130 on our local hospital classes and the retail value of these DVDs are $79.95 - but I could have watched them at my convenience from the comfort of my own home. How perfect would this be for bedrest mamas? Or for the couples with hectic, incompatible schedules?

It's not hard to see why Laugh and Learn are the #1 DVD classes for pregnant couples in America, with their entertaining, easy-to-comprehend style.

BUY IT: Purchase the Laugh and Learn DVDs for $79.95 or watch the series online for $69.95. For a limited time, you can watch the Anatomy and Preliminary Signs of Labor segment online for free!

WIN IT: Laugh and Learn is offering one lucky reader the entire 4-DVD set! Interested? Read on!

TO ENTER THE GIVEAWAY:

1.) Visit Laugh and Learn and leave me a comment telling me which DVD you are most interested in and why. Feel free to share if this is for you or a loved one. This entry is mandatory and no other entries will be counted unless this one is fulfilled. If your email address is not visible on your profile, please leave it in your comment(s) so I can contact you if you win!

Bonus entries (max 1 entry for each):

2.) Follow my blog (see sidebar) and leave a comment telling me so. If you're already following me, this counts! Just leave a comment telling me you're a follower.

3.) Follow me on Twitter (see sidebar) and tweet this giveaway. Leave a comment with your Twitter name and/or tweet link.

4.) Blog about this giveaway and leave a comment with the post link.

5.) Expectant moms: what is your biggest fear about childbirth or breastfeeding? BTDT moms: was your labor and delivery experience better or worse than you thought it would be?

Giveaway will run from July 1 through July 15, 11:59pm EST. Open to U.S. addresses only. One winner will be chosen at random using random.org. Winner will be contacted via email and will have 48 hours to respond or prize will be forfeited. In case of forfeit, a second winner will be chosen.

The Last Month

Update: I'm still a bit shaken up from our experience on Thursday. I am trying to focus on the positives - Nate is no worse for the wear and is not acting out of the ordinary. Thank God. But the thought that my carelessness could have led to something grave is overwhelming. So much so that I've been tempted to take my anti-anxiety medication to take the edge off. The only thing that has stopped me is that it's not exactly safe for breastfeeding and I refuse to end our nursing relationship due to these circumstances.

I've been slightly traumatized by the whole ordeal. I feel fragile. I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. But somehow I feel like I ought to be. For Nate's sake. I am my harshest critic and the hardest person for me to forgive is often myself. I just need time to get over the guilt and I'm confident that with each passing day, happiness will prevail.
________________________________________________

Yesterday, Nate turned 11 months old. T minus 29 days until his big birthday. The supplies have been ordered and are en route to our address. Once those are received, I will send out the invitations, visit the bakery to order the cake(s) and finalize the menu. I have a few more decorations to purchase in the coming weeks and then it's just a matter of bringing the vision to life. My excitement is mounting as we grow closer to the big day. It goes without saying that I'm amazed by how much he has blossomed in such a short amount of time.

At 11 months, my little guy:

Walks all over the place - all by his lonesome! At this point, he prefers walking over crawling unless he is tired or lazy (like if he falls mid-walk and decides crawling is an easier method of transportation to his destination). I'd estimate we're at 75/25 ratio to walking and crawling. He can also crouch down to pick up a toy and stand back up to walk. All that jumping in his jumperoo has given him some seriously strong legs.

Is starting to wave bye-bye. Backwards, as if waving to himself. He's not consistent but I've seen him do it a few times when he thought he'd go under the radar. I guess he'd rather not go public just yet with this new skill.

Can say mama and dada to the correct parent. Dada still comes out more like "baba" which makes me second guess whether or not he associates the word with DH. But since he tends to say it when DH is around or to mimic what we say, I believe he really does. For some reason, he is having trouble enunciating "d" sounds. I'm not concerned yet but will talk to the pediatrician about it at his next visit. You know, just in case speech therapy is an order.

Can throw a temper tantrum fit for a 2-year old. Gone are the days of casually removing an object from his grasp. Something as simple as a piece of paper causes a gargantuan meltdown, complete with arching of the back, stomping and waterworks so marvelous I should charge people to view them. Seriously. This kind of acting is sure to garner an Academy Award.

Understands "no" and "come". Of course, comprehension does not equal obedience. Though he may stop and look at me when he hears the dreaded "n-word", my insubordinate son typically continues on with his destructive, dangerous or bothersome behavior until I physically remove him from the situation. Aforementioned temper tantrum sure to follow.

Can boogie. To the radio. To television theme songs. His moves resemble squatting exercises but it's ever so cute to watch. He can get his groove on to any beat but seems to dance mostly to hip-hop and pop. Oh, and his newly discovered favorite, Yo Gabba Gabba. (Am I the only one who feels like I'm tripping on acid when I watch that show?)

Is a picky eater. We are going through a bizarre food phase right now. He is refusing almost all purees, eating maybe 2-3 oz. at a sitting before putting his dukes up. But finger foods are hit or miss. Most end up thrown over the side of his highchair for the thrill of the plop or splatter. It's so hard to get anything in that belly of his besides Cheerios and breastmilk. I assume he will eat when he is hungry so I am just riding this out until it gets old. To him. It's already getting pretty old to me.

Is back to two naps per day. Hallelujah! After a rough week of limited naptime, and ergo cranky baby, I am ecstatic to report that we are back on track. I'm chalking it up to a growth spurt or perhaps teething. 1030am and 3pm are necessary downtimes in this house. Any deviation from this makes for an unhappy baby and Mommy.

Is still not sleeping through the night. Some nights we get 5+ hour stretches and other nights, only 2-3 hours. I am unsure of how to handle it but I think CIO may be involved, as much as I wish to avoid it. He is now trained to eat several times during the night - which I admit is my fault since I never reestablished sleep training when his reflux waned - but I'd like to try and cut back on the night feeds so he will eat more calories during the day. I'm okay with one, possibly two, night feeds but I know he is capable of sleeping through. We just have to figure out what method is best for all of us to get there.

I think that about sums it up. This is the last month I will have a "baby". In 29 days, I will have a "toddler". So I'm soaking up as much as I can.

ETA: Another "skill" I forgot to mention - opening and closing doors and cabinets. He's strategically figured out how to get into the pots and pans in the kitchen so he can bang them together and create a ruckus. He's also learned how to open the front door (when it's unlocked of course) so he can peep outside at the dogwalkers. With opening, he's also learned its opposite - closing. A few times on his poor appendages. I once was talking on the phone and heard whining coming from the bathroom. Sure enough, he had closed the door and shut himself inside. Quite amusing.

I Am Not Worthy

Have you ever had a day so horrific, you wished it was all just a nightmare? Like you could pretend you were an ostrich, pulling your head out of the ground to find a new reality?

Today was one of those days for me.

It started out well enough. The weather was hot and sunny. 90 degrees. Nate and I played for a bit outdoors, taking in the sunshine before retiring indoors to chill - literally - in the marvel that is central air. After his second nap, I decided to take advantage of Nate's good mood and run some errands. At the top of the list was hitting the grocery store to pick up some items for dinner.

I unlocked the Jeep and tossed my keys and purse onto the front seat. I buckled Nate in his carseat in the back and closed the door. But when I pulled on the door handle to hop into the driver's seat, I couldn't get in.

I was locked out.

When I flung my keys, it must have activated the automatic lock. My keys. My purse. My cell phone. My baby. All locked inside. Thank the Lord, I had cracked one of the back windows earlier so there was a tiny bit of fresh air making its way in amidst the humid, scorching heat.

I frantically pulled at all four doors and the trunk, using all my might and hoping by some grace of God, one would come loose. Of course, I knew it was a long shot but I was desperate and perhaps in shock at the situation. I peeked inside at Nate and he smiled, assuming we were playing yet another game of peek-a-boo. I ran to our backyard to see if I could find anything that could jostle the door lock. With no luck, I peeked inside again to a check on Nate (who was still in good spirits) and raced off around the corner to my parent's house to use their phone and call the fire department to rescue my baby. As I erratically explained our predicament, extreme guilt washed over me. I was ashamed that I had allowed this to happen.

With help on the way, I ran back to the scene of the crime. Beads of sweat had formed on Nate's face. His hair was matted. He looked uncomfortable. He was no longer smiling but he wasn't in distress. I grew slightly alarmed. My mom followed behind me and kept me company as we waited for the tell-tale red truck. She spouted off statistics on infant death due to similar circumstances that she had seen on the news. I assured her that those numbers were not comforting me and, in so many words, told her to knock the shit off. My fear rose as I imagined my son passing out from heat stroke. Panic set in.

Every minute that passed felt like an hour. I debated whether or not I should just screw it all, find a heavy rock and break a window. I was desperate to hold my son. I'm so sorry, baby. If you hang in there...stay with me...I promise, I'll never disappoint you again. I will find any way I can to make it up to you.

As my thoughts rambled, I heard the sirens blaring around the bend. I looked up and saw the rescue team heading toward me. One worker asked me a few questions while another hurriedly jimmied the lock until it clicked. Success! I rushed to the door and fumbled with the straps on Nate's carseat, freeing him from the restraint. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat. Droplets fell from his brow. I could have wrung him out to dry.

I tore off his clothes in an attempt to cool him down. I clutched him tightly to my chest, kissing his wet forehead. He was a little lethargic but his temperature was a perfect 98.6. I declined a hospital visit and signed a liability form. They told me if I were to change my mind, I could give them a call at anytime. I thanked them profusely. Then it was all over.

Or so I thought. As I walked in the house, I noticed my underwear was damp. Apparently, in all of the hustle and bustle, I had peed myself. Lovely. So I can add my overactive bladder to the list of things out of my control.

I had held it together this whole time, my determination outweighing the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. But now that all was said and done, I broke down, trembling with terror over what could've been. I was ever so thankful the situation did not escalate into something much more serious. But I am still overwrought with terror. My baby could have been that top local news story. A headline on tomorrow's newspaper.

I took Nate upstairs for a cool bath and kneeled beside the tub, tears falling from my swollen eyes, creating ripples in the bathwater. He splashed about independently, aloof, as if it were any other uneventful day. Sure, we can all agree this was an accident. And yes, it could have happened to anyone - and has happened to some. But it's my duty to protect him. And I failed miserably this time. While he'll never remember this incident, it will forever haunt me. Just how close we were to catastrophe.

I can't help but feel undeserving of this beautiful baby who has been bestowed upon me. I'm simply not worthy of such a blessing when I am obviously incapable of requisite multi-tasking.

We are taking appropriate measures to ensure this incident is never repeated. Car and house keys are being replicated tomorrow.

But it feels like too little too late. What's done is done. Irrevocable damage has been done to my self-esteem. Just when I thought I was getting good at this mothering thing.

Wordless Wednesday: Paging Dr. McDrooly