Support

As we get closer to Anna's one year birthday, I can't help but think back on our struggles to get her. I missed posting on National Infertility Awareness Week, but honestly, shouldn't we be aware all the time? One in seven couples will have problems conceiving a child. We were one, and there are many more who struggle. I am grateful everyday for my sweet Anna. Everyone deserves to be a parent who wants to be.

Currently, I have friends who are trying, but need to raise some money. Infertility treatments can be very expensive. Check out their video and donate if you can. Every dollar goes a long way! I can't think of two people who would be greater parents!

Also, if you have the time, stop at their facebook page and lend some support.  We all know how much a kind word can mean on a bad day.  

Thank you!

Birthdays

I am eagerly planning Anna's birthday party.  Yes, I know it's still months and months away.  I don't care!  I want it to be a special day for me her!  I've already rented a pavilion at a park where the playground looks like a castle.  I'm going for a princess themed party, and I'm super excited!

I love birthdays!  I love celebrating them, making people feel special, presents, cake, all of it!  I always try to do something special for family birthdays.  The day you were born is special, and I think I realize that more after dealing with IF and having my baby girl.

That being said, I forgot about my birthday.  Yep.  Forgot.  Until my Mom told me she was making my birthday dinner last night.  Ham and funeral potatoes.  OMG good!

But now I sit here, two days before my actual birthday, and I'm in a funk.  I'm going to be 30 this year.  30!  How did this happen?  I'm trying to not be in to bad of a mood, but I am honestly a little depressed about saying goodbye to my 20's.

I know, deal with it.  I have a great husband, an adorable daughter, and a fabulous group of family and friends. And I will deal with it.  Thursday.

Until then, I'm going to sulk a little.

Baby Weight

Ok, please don't hate me.  Pretty please!

I don't have any baby weight to lose.  In fact, I weigh less now then when I got married four years ago.  I'm working on getting to my high school weight.  

Nevermind, go ahead and hate me.  I hate me.

But you know who I really hate at this moment?  My SIL J.  Who said to me on Monday "So, when are you going to work on losing the baby weight?"

I blinked a few times, and gathered myself.  "Actually, I went into the hospital weighing less then when I got pregnant, and since delivery I've dropped 45 pounds"

She, of course, says nothing until about an hour later.  "Oh wait, now that you're standing I can tell.  Your face is thinner."

Grrr. . . . 

Six Month Catch Up

Ok, I'm a bad blogger!  Leaving the blog alone after airing Family Drama should never be done!  I apologize!

Can you believe Baby Girl is now 6 months old?  I can't!  There have been times in this six months where time has seemed to stand still, or even go backwards.  And then there are times when I feel like time is running through my fingers to fast and I can't catch any of it to hold onto.

We had a rough start.  Anna had reflux.  She screamed, a lot.  I was trying to breastfeed, but Anna had a super strong latch and ruined my nipples.  So I started pumping.  I was determined to give her the best food nature had!  The doctor put Anna on baby zant.ac.  It seemed to relieve some of her pain but not all of it.  So I started limiting my diet.  No dairy, no caffeine, no acidic fruits, no gassy vegetables. . .the list goes on and on.  Eventually they only thing I was eating was toast.  Dry toast.  After yet another visit to her pediatrician for the reflux, he suggested I try formula.  I was super hesitant, but I was also not a happy mom anymore (seriously, would you be happy eating dry toast all day?)  He gave me a sample, I took it home and fed Anna a bottle, and she didn't scream.  I was still pumping at this point just in case.  But with every bottle of formula Anna took, she became a happier baby.  I sucked up my wounded pride and Anna has been on formula ever since.  I still feel so guilty that I couldn't give her what she needed.

We started Anna on baby cereal around 4 months old, and that really helped her reflux as well.  Around 5 months we started her on fruits and veggies, and for the most part she loves them.  She will not eat bananas or peas (even we you try to hide them with other things).  I attempted to make my own baby food, but Anna is a gerber snot and won't eat my homemade food.  I'm hoping that will change.  We have a constant battle when I feed her solids for who gets control of the spoon.  Meal time usually requires three spoons now, one for each of her hands, and one for me to feed her with.  Which honestly isn't unlike bedtime when she has three binkies: one for her mouth, and one for each hand!

Anna has become such a happy little socialite.  She loves people, and, at this point anyway, will let anyone hold her.  I don't know what age stranger anxiety sets in, but I'm not looking forward to it.  When Anna is in a particularly bad mood I load her into the car and take her to Wal-Mart.  Seeing all the people, and the different colors of the products always makes her smile.  One of the employees at our Wal-Mart suggested that Anna grow up to be a greeter, but I'm hoping that she has higher career plans than that!

Let's see. . . Anna is rolling over from her tummy to back, and sitting on her own.  She can roll from her back to tummy, but refuses to do so.  Crawling isn't happening as she will not stay on her tummy long enough to even try.  She has been pulling herself up when I offer her my hands.  She loves standing, and will take a few steps if you hold her upright.

I am equal parts amazed and saddened as a mom.  I am amazed by how much she has learned.  I am saddened that she is growing up so quickly.   I want to hold on to her and make her stop growing, but I so want to see her grow and watch what she becomes.

I'll leave you with a photo catch up of Anna.  I can't help it, I think she is beautiful!

Anna at 9 weeks old

First smile caught on camera!  She was 11 weeks old.

Halloween 2011

My Little Angel

Christmas 2011

January 2012

February 2012

Has everyone missed me?

I've missed posting on here.  But I've had some interesting/crazy things going on in my life that I didn't feel I could write about.  And not writing about them, and only writing about the other things felt wrong.  It felt like I was cheating myself, or burying my head in the sand.

And I have been playing ostrich.  But really, what else can a girl do when she hears the words "I feel like I've been in the wrong sex all my life" come from her father's lips.

Intellectually, I understand.  Heck, I watch tv, I've seen the documentaries, and I've silently cheered on the people who are going through all of that.  But it's a whole different can of worms when it's your father.  The one man who showed me what a good man was.  The one that all of my boyfriends, and even my husband could never live up to.  He is my Dad.

So now what is he?  He's still my Dad.  He always will be.  The parts of him that I loved are still there.  The parts of him that I hated are still there.  He hasn't changed, but everything has changed.

It has made for some stressful family dynamics.  My Mom doesn't have anyone to talk to about it; she won't confide in any of her friends.  I'm now her outlet.  And I can understand her pain and her frustration.  They've been married for 32 years for hell sake.  But it's so hard for me to be the one she talks to.  Because I understand her side, and I am trying to understand my Dad's side.  I love both of them, and I don't want to take sides.

On the other hand, it has made for some funny moments.  Like when I told The Husband.  He didn't even flinch.  Just said "Make sure he doesn't wear a dress to the family Thanksgiving dinner."  And that was that.

Or the weekend I spent at my parents house and slept in my Dad's bedroom.  I woke up in the middle of the night and just about wet myself because there was someone staring at me from the closet.  Turns out it was the wig stand with a wig on it.  Cracked me right up.

Anywho, now that I've got that out there, I'm sure I'll be back blogging away.  I only ask for understanding from those of you who read this blog.  You may not agree with what my father is going through, but please do not bring hate to my space.  Also, if you happen to know me outside this blog, please don't mention anything.  It is up to my father to talk about this to others when he is ready.

6 weeks old

Baby Girl is six weeks old.  There are days when I feel like the time has flown by, and other days where I feel like it's been the longest six weeks of my life.  Being a parent is hard.  Parenting a newborn is hard.  Doing both while struggling with depression is worse then hard.  It fucking sucks.

Two weeks after Baby Girl was born, I was put on a bigger dose of my anti-depressants.  I've been struggling with depression for years (since 8th grade).  I saw the signs in myself that things were deteriorating, and I took steps to correct it as soon as I could.  The medicine has helped, but so has reaching out to friends and family.  Depression should not be dealt with quietly.  In order to brighten up the dark spots in my life, I need to open them up to people.  Family and friends have become a light to me the past six weeks, helping me see that the dark spots aren't hugely scary.  At the very least, they aren't hugely scary when you have someone there holding your hand.

Several of my friends have dealt with PPD, and it's been a great help to me to talk to them.  They understand how I feel, and can talk me down from the verge of a panic attack.  They've helped me realize that Baby Girl is going to grow and thrive, and that just because I get frustrated when she cries doesn't mean I'm a bad parent.  

I've also started getting out the house with Baby Girl.  We go visit family and friends, go shopping, or just go for a walk.  And when I need a Baby Girl free moment, The Husband takes her and I escape to Target.

And in spite of all of the crap that is my depression, Baby Girl is happy.  She smiles more and more each day.  The smiles help.  She is getting bigger and no longer fits in most of her newborn clothes.  She adores tummy time.  She is growing up so fast, and I don't want to miss a single moment.  

We're still alive!

It's just hard to write blog posts with one hand!  So here's some bullets to update you!

• Baby Girl is doing great.  Our new saying around the house "She's thriving in spite of us"
• Things are starting to settle into a routine at our house.  Our world was a bit crazy for the first two weeks of Baby Girl's life.  I came home from the hospital with a stomach bug, then when I finally started feeling better, The Husband got food poisoning and we had to take him to the hospital!  It would have been a rough two weeks even if I hadn't had a newborn and a c-section to recover from.  But we survived, and I think it upped our confidence level.  If we can keep Baby Girl alive through that, we should be ok through regular stuff!
• In the midst of me and The Husband getting sick, Moo ate a bag of M&Ms.  Guess he was feeling left out of the we-cant-keep-anything-down group that me and The Husband had.  Carpets to be cleaned, eventually.
• Baby Girl did give us quite the scare when she was a week old though.  About 4 hours after a feeding, she started spitting up exorcist style.  I was seriously waiting to see her little head turn around.  And the spit up? Had brown chunks in it.  I ran up stairs and woke my husband, who called the pediatrician.  Turns out I should have named my baby Renesme.  My nipple had a crack in it, and she had been drinking blood along with the milk.  (Maybe I've been watching to many episodes of Vampire Diaries?)  It took her awhile to get all the blood out of her tummy, but once it was gone, she was back to her normal, happy, non exorcist self.
• Baby blues suck.  Hard.
• This has been our first week on our own, and I think we're doing ok.  I still haven't ventured out of the house with Baby Girl.  I'm to afraid of everything that's out there that could get her sick.
• Honestly, I'm afraid of a lot of things that have to do with Baby Girl.  I'm working on getting over them, but it's hard.  I think the anxiety ties back into the baby blues.  But this is where our saying comes into play.  I may not have a clue in hell what I'm doing, but Baby Girl is thriving, so I must not be screwing it all up!  And so long as she's alive, we can pay for therapy for all the damage I do to her psyche.

Birth Story - Updated with Picture

Sunday was an anxious day for me as I waited to find out whether or not I'd be going in to the hospital for an induction. Finally, I received word that there was room for me that night, and we headed off for the hospital.  When we got there, the whole main entrance was under construction, which really stressed me out.  The hospital had told us that if we didn't arrive on time, they might not start the induction, and I was hugely sick of being pregnant.  After finally finding our way to labor and delivery we were about a half hour late, only to find out we were the only ones in labor and delivery.  The ONLY people.

After we finished all the paperwork and were admitted we were taking to our room.  The nurse placed my IV, and put me on the monitors to watch Baby Girl and to watch for contractions.  As soon as she plugged the contraction monitor in we saw a pretty strong one go across the screen.  I didn't feel a thing.  I took this as a good sign.  Maybe I was already dilating?! It took another hour for the doctor to arrive to administer the cervidril himself.  Holy Hell.  I almost came up and out of the bed while he was placing the drug.  Add to that that there was no change to my cervix; still high and closed.  I was hoping that would be the worst of it.  But I was wrong.  About a half hour later the contractions started to get painful.

My doctor wouldn't let me have an epidural until I had dilated to a 4.  That became my goal.  All I had to do was make it through the night, he'd check me in the morning and then I'd get the good drugs.  Meanwhile, I was getting shots of something that took the pain away for about 45 minutes, but I was only allowed the shots every three hours.  So, 45 minutes of peace, then agony until the next shot.

During the night, my stomach decided to rebel against me.  I got horrid diarrhea as a reaction to the cervidril.  I got another shot of something to make the diarrhea stop, and a shot of zofran to ease up the nausea.  More cramps, more nausea, more diarrhea, more pain.

Soon, it's morning, and my doctor is there to take out the drug, and check my progress.  And after all that pain, there has to be progress, right?  Nope.  NONE.  Cervix still high and closed.  It was at this point that I burst into tears.  Thirteen hours of labor, thirteen hours of hell, and my body hadn't done anything right.  I was given three options: Go home and continue to labor on my own (Um, hell no); Start the pitocin and see if we can make the cervix respond (Dr. said it would more then likely fail and that he still wouldn't give me any good drugs until I was dilated to a four); Or do a c-section.  I think I debated for all of five minutes.  The pain needed to end, so a c-section it was!

Things after that are kind of a blur.  The anesthesiologist came in and started spouting off his stuff, my doctor started going through his stuff, and I was signing papers.  I remember telling everyone I didn't feel well, and throwing up (which up until the birth I hadn't done since 2003).  I remember someone coming in and shaving me, and someone coming in from the NuMom2B study and talking to me, but I don't remember about what.  I was focusing on making it through the contractions, and they were doozys!

They asked me to walk to the OR.  I laughed at them and they got me a wheelchair.  All I could think about at this point was that I would soon be getting a spinal and the pain would end.  I wish I could say that I was excited to meet my Anna, but that thought wasn't there.  When we got to the OR, they had me climb onto the table, and then the anesthesiologist started to work on my spinal.  It took him several tries, for which he kept apologizing, but honestly the pain was less than contractions, so it didn't faze me.  When he got it right, and the pain started melting away I was in heaven.

The rest of the birth is only in bits and pieces of memories.

I remember them setting up the curtain, hearing my doctor explaining the surgery to a resident, someone asking my husband if he wanted to see her born (his response, "no thanks") and then hearing the most beautiful cry in the world.  I started crying, and thinking of how much I'd been through to get here.  All of it was worth it (cliche, I know).  The Husband even teared up, although he denies it now.

They took her out, The Husband went with.  He came back with a picture of her and she was beautiful.  They brought her out to us, and all I could see were her eyes, but they were beautiful eyes.  Wheeled back to my room, and there was my mom, and I started crying all over again.  When I got back to the room I had my mom and The Husband unwrap her so I could count her fingers and toes.  Cue more tears.

It was quite the journey to get her here, but we are so happy!

She's Here!

Anna was born at 9:36am on Monday morning.  She weighed in at 8 pounds 9 ounces and was 20.5 inches long.  She is absolutely beautiful, and me and The Husband love her to pieces!

We were released to come home from the hospital Thursday, and that's about the time I got the stomach bug from hell.  We've been trying to take care of me, and Anna since, and battling guilt as we discuss breastfeeding and formula due to the fact that I've been to sick to nurse since we got home.  We were able to get a used breast pump, so it looks like Anna will be able to get some breast milk by bottle, and then we'll supplement with formula.

It's been a rough first week, but I promise to post the birth story soon.  Right now I'm focusing on getting better and learning about my little one.

Getting closer to meeting Baby Girl

Well, today is the big day.  Or rather the lead up to the Big Day.  Tonight I go to the hospital to start the induction process.  I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous as heck!  In the past two months so many "caring" moms have told me their birth stories and other peoples horror birth stories that I've got all these images in my brain that won't go away.  I mean, really, was that necessary?  Did they have to do it because it was done to them?

And to jump off on a tangent here, you know how many judgmental people are telling me that they would never have an induction?  I've heard: to many risks; it's not natural; wait for the baby to decide when she's ready; and my favorite, just relax and it will happen.  I'm 8 days past due people.  Screw relaxing, screw waiting on her timeline, and screw natural (honestly with the Femera, it wasn't really a natural conception anyway, why should her birth be all natural?).  I'll take the risks, I want my Baby Girl out!

Ok, tangent over.  Besides being nervous, I'm so super excited!  Baby Girl is going to be here soon!  I can't wait to hold her, and then scold her for taking so long to come out.  The Husband is excited too, although he's trying to hide it.  If I didn't know him better, I'd be really peeved about his attitude.  But it's the same face he presented when we were getting married: happy indifference.  Also, I think he is nervous about the labor and possible c-section.

Off to watch some Vampire Diaries to kill time until tonight.

Bullet Point Update

Have you missed me?  I've missed me!  My computer has been dead for almost three weeks, and I couldn't post at work.  So, here is a whole bunch of updates for you:

• Baby Girl is officially past due.  She is also huge.  Had an ultrasound done today to determine size, and the doctor is estimating her at 9lbs 5oz.  He said he could be off a pound in either direction.  Let's hope he's an over-estimator!
• We've scheduled an induction date.  I will go in to the hospital next Sunday the 28th and start the process.  That means by this time next week I should have a little (haha) baby girl in my arms!  It's really nice to have an end date in sight.
• However, my cervix remains relatively unchanged.  The doctor says it is not "favorable" and that my odds of having a c-section are way up.  Add that to her size and he told me to mentally prepare myself for that.  Joy.  I was really hoping to not have to cross that bridge, but I will do whatever it takes to get Baby Girl here.
• The little popsicle hoarding doorbell ringing annoyance girl next door came over to check on me last night.  She can't quite grasp the concept that Baby Girl was due Saturday and still isn't here.  She told me that as long as we were waiting, why not wait until March so they could have the same birthday?  
• Then, she asked me if I was excited to have this baby because "You used to be so skinny!"  I'm taking it as a compliment.  Someone thought I was skinny before!
• Speaking of weight, I'm down two pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight.  Factor in 9 pounds of baby, and I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself.
• I have become addicted to The Vampire Diaries.  Net flix does not get them to me fast enough.  Stephan is cute and all, but Damon has me won over.  And the fact that they routinely make fun of Twilight?  Love it!  (I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm not a fan of the Twilight movies.  The Husband, however, is a major Twi-hard.)
• I'm also reading a ton.  I will take any and all book suggestions!  I'm currently re-reading The Wheel of Time series.

I think that's about it.  I'm off work on maternity leave (not by choice, my contract ran out of money for the fiscal year) and trying to enjoy my free time while I can.  Hopefully the computer keeps working so I can update you guys more often!

Dreams

I had an amazing, yet heartbreaking dream last night.  And it's pretty much all I can think about this morning.

I've told you that baby girls name will be Anna Beth.  The Beth part comes from my Grandma.  She was, and will always be, my hero.  She was the center of everything, the one with all the knowledge and answers.  She always had a solution to a problem, although sometimes the solutions were not practical at all.  She died in 2006, and I miss her so very much.

Last night I had a dream where she visited me at my house.  I got to show her around, and she talked to me about how proud she was that I was married and a homeowner.  We both oohed and ahhed over all the baby things in the nursery.  She told me how excited she was that I was having a baby.  She gave me a great big hug and told me that I was going to be a great mother.  I wanted to stay in that dream forever, but finally my Grandma told me she had to go, but that she would be watching over me and baby girl.

I'm not an overly religious person, but I am very spiritual.  And I know that wherever great people like my Grandma go after they die, that she's happy there.  And I'm holding on to the idea that it wasn't just a dream, that somehow I was really with her last night.  And that she will watch over me and little Anna Beth.

And I hope that someday, I can explain to my baby girl how special her name really is.

Back among the living

I am finally counting myself back among the living.  Last week was rough.  Bronchitis.  Boo.

I wasn't feeling my best last Sunday, but didn't think much of it.  I have heard, after all, about how women feel crappy the closer they get to delivery.  So there I was feeling slightly ashamed for being a "normal fertile type pregnant person". . . And so I figured I didn't need to tell anyone I wasn't feeling great.  No need to whine.

By Tuesday I was feeling pretty awful.  And decided to mention it at my checkup.  Told the doctor how I was feeling, he did his doctor thing, and told me I had bronchitis.  Huh.  No wonder I felt like shit.  And can I just say, that momentary flash of triumph that I wasn't just a whiny pregnant person?  Priceless!  So the doctor put me on antibiotics and told me to rest and all that junk.  And today?  Today I finally feel like I am back to normal.  Still have a lingering cough and runny nose, but nothing I can't handle. 

In other related news, I had my 36 week checkup last Tuesday, and baby girl has dropped.  Which was nice of her since I was having problems breathing with the bronchitis.  Had the strep b test done (why didn't any of you previously pregnant ladies warn me about this?!?) And a cervix check that showed I wasn't dilated at all and my cervix was hard.  Which is ok, because baby girl still has time left before she needs to be here.

I have my 37 week appointment tomorrow, so we'll see if anything has changed!  I'll update you guys sooner this time, I promise.

Summer

The popsicle plan backfired.  But surprisingly, not in the way I thought it would.  I figured once the kids got a taste of the free sugar, they'd be asking for popsicles every day.  Of course, I was prepared for this; I bought a giant thing of popsicles!

Instead, I now have lots of friends.  Lots of friends who are 10 years old or younger.  They come over to my house every night when I get home, not to ask for a treat, but to hang out.  They tell me all about their day (which usually involves riding bikes, swimming, and whatever cool dead thing they found).  Then they check up on me and the baby, play with Moo for awhile, and then leave.

I know, you're thinking it doesn't sound so bad.  And it wasn't at first.  I was honestly a little honored that these kids thought I was "cool" enough to talk to.  But soon one visit a night was two, and then three, and then more.

I attempt to ignore them when they ring the doorbell, but then they start knocking on the door.  And the dog goes nuts.  And if I continue to ignore them, they start ringing the doorbell again.  Then knocking.  I timed it once, they were out there for five minutes!  Once they even opened my door and started to come in to the house (they got an earful for that one).

Monday I'd had enough, and went down and explained to the kids that if I didn't answer after they rang the doorbell once, I wasn't going to, and they had to stop.  Their little faces looked so sad.  So I gave them popsicles.

34 week appointment

I just got back from my 34 week appointment.  Things are looking great, and the doctor said my pregnancy is progressing nicely.  Which is always good to hear!

I had to go in again two hours after I ate lunch to have my blood sugars tested, but they came out fine.  The doctor said this means I don't have gestational diabetes (which I thought we'd already determined) but he wants me to keep eating healthy.  Which is pretty much a no brainer.  I think my body is loving the fact that I'm giving it better fuel to burn.  I hope to continue the trend long after the baby is born!

Blood pressure is fine, although I was a bit freaked out over the number: 142/62.  The doctor told me it's the number on the bottom that concerns him the most, and since I was coming into their office in the middle of a stressful work day, he wasn't concerned about my numbers.

I'm still measuring a week ahead, but the doctor isn't concerned about that either.  And he's equally not concerned by the fact that I now weigh 2 pounds less then when I conceived.  So either everything is going great, or my doctor takes to much x.anax. 

Things that made me smile this week

• Minute Maid Light Lemonade.  Soo good, and refreshing with the heat.  And also a great treat at the end of a long day!
• My fur baby Moo.  He follows me everywhere lately, even on all of my bathroom trips, although he gets locked out.  He's started sticking his paw under the door when I'm in there.  Makes me smile every time!
• My Nook.  I love being able to carry 20+ books around with me wherever I go.  
• My Zune.  Without music I'm pretty sure I'd turn into a grumpy, mean spirited person.
• Anything related to Anna.  But that's a given.
• Being told by a lady at work and another one at my pharmacy that I look amazing.  Totally made my week, because I'll be honest here, I don't feel like I look amazing.  I feel fine physically, but I don't know how well that translates to what everyone else sees.  
• Cold baths.  Absolute heaven!  By the end of the day I feel overheated and swollen, and a nice cold bath makes me feel so much better!  Plus as I'm laying there reading my Nook, I can look over at the door and see paws sticking under the door.  Who wouldn't smile seeing that?
• Watermelon anything.  Fresh watermelon, watermelon sorbet, watermelon bubble gum.  Yummy!  And the price on the fresh watermelon is going down, which is really helping my budget as I've been eating it non-stop since January.

What's made you smile this week?

My Third Summer as a Popsicle Pusher

So begins another summer.  Last week I went to the store and bought a giant box of otter pops, and I know it isn't the last box I'll buy this summer.  What started out as a great way to get a certain little boy to leave my house, has morphed into a summer tradition.  And the kids all know it.  I am, for better or worse, The Popsicle Lady.

This year, the popsicles came with rules.  First rule is that they can't come up and bug me incesantly about getting a popsicle.  I'm hoping that the kids respect this rule, but I'm not certain they will.  The second rule is that I will no longer hand out popsicles to any of the kids if I find any of my flowers picked.  I'm hoping the lure of the popsicle mixed with kid peer pressure will save my blossoms.

Back story on the flowers:  I've been getting home from work each night to find my flowers picked and then abandoned in my driveway to wither and die.  It's one thing if you are picking my flowers to take home to your mom, but to pick them and just let them die?  Anger.

Anywho, there are two new little kids in our circle that moved in over the winter.  They didn't know about the popsicles, and we so excited to get them.  So excited in fact, that they took out my trash cans and helped me weed the front yard.

All this time I've been going about it the wrong way.  I was using the popsicles as a way to get the kids to leave, when I could have been using them to get yardwork done!  What have I been thinking?

Spoiled? Yes. But also incredibly grateful.

I had a baby shower last Saturday.  It was beautiful and fantastic and so surreal.  I couldn't believe how many people were there to help me celebrate my little miracle.

My friend threw the shower, and it was so well put together.  I'm still waiting on pictures to be emailed to me, but when I have them I'll make sure to post some.  I swear this friend could be a party planner (I don't know why I was so surprised actually. . . .She was the one who planned my wedding, and it was fabulous as well!)

When my friend was planning the shower she asked about what I would and would not like.  The only rule I gave her?  To not be too baby focused.  I know, tough rule.  But the infertile that's still inside me couldn't stand that my shower might hurt someone else.

All together, it was a nice shower.  No dorky baby shower games (although there were games), the food was wonderful (so they tell me, I just ate the watermelon), and the people who showed up made me smile.

I'll post pictures when I get them.

Oh, and as to why I'm spoiled?  This shower was one of three.  My next shower is July 16, and the final shower is August 5th.  Yeah, I'm spoiled, but so incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be spoiled!

Update on the Gestational Diabetes

About a month ago I failed my 1 hour GD test.  And I realized that I haven't updated you guys on what's happened since then.

The following week I took my 3 hour test.  Longest 3 hours of my life.  The glucose drink was thicker and sweeter then it was for the 1 hour test.  It was hard to drink, and hard to keep down the first hour of the test.  Overall, the test wasn't as bad as I'd feared or as good as I'd hoped.  But I survived it.

When I received the results, I had failed the second hour blood draw, but passed the other three.  So I'm now on a "we'll just pretend like you have gestational diabetes, even though you didn't completely fail the 3 hour test" diet.  The only plus side to this, is that if I feel like I must cheat (like with the really yummy cupcake at my shower Saturday) I don't feel horrible. 

Otherwise, I'm cutting way back on sugar and carbs, and have been told to increase my protein substantially.  Boo.  Me and protein have not been friends throughout this pregnancy.  I can't say that I've had many cravings other than watermelon, but I have definitely had aversions, and anything with meat has been unable to be eaten.  But I'm sucking it up in the name of a healthier me and a healthier baby.

At my last check up appointment the doctor had me eat a normal lunch and come in two hours later to have my blood sugar tested.  And it was normal.  Now he wants me to do it again at my next appointment in two weeks.  Hopefully all is well that time too.

So short version: I don't have gestational diabetes, but I'm pretending I do.

I knew that pregnancy came with it's own special kind of body changes.  I was expecting most of them.  The stretch marks I wear like stripes of accomplishment, even when I whine about them.  The leaky boobs mean that my body is trying to make food for the little one.  The big stomach is her safe haven for the next nine weeks.  I can even get used to the stranger ones, like my normal freckles turning into huge spots, or the itchy rash that I cannot get to leave my elbows.  Honestly, if that's what it takes to make this baby, I'll deal with it!

But then Sunday happened.  And quite honestly, I think I found a pregnancy change that I'm not loving.  I was driving home from The Husbands parents, and I kept getting this hair falling into my eye.  I'd take off my sunglasses, brush my eye, pull my hair back, and then two minutes later, that same hair is back.  Since I was driving, I couldn't find the offender and deal with it, so I waited until we got home and grabbed a mirror to find the evil hair.

It was my eyebrow.  I had a three inch hair growing out of my eyebrow.  WTF?  How is that normal, even pregnancy normal?  And three inches?  I've been walking around with old man hair in my eyebrows for how long?  AACK! 

So, since I'm not going to claim that my body would do something like that without the benefit of pregnancy, we are going to call this a nasty pregnancy symptom, and hope that it never ever comes back.