SkyWaitress.com

You Only Live Once, This Is How I’m Doing It!

Tag: ttc

All clear

I visited my doctor for the follow up on my D&C. Everything is normal and we now have the all clear to resume, ahem, martial relations.

Side of TMI: Five weeks is hella long to not have sex, especially after enjoying a couple months of protection and worry free married fun.

Anyway, he showed me the results from the tissue they removed and it was confirmed there were genetic abnormalities. He made sure to emphasize that it means nothing I did or didn’t do caused it and that it’s very common to have have healthy pregnancies after this kind of loss.

And, even though it was only (my word, not his) my first loss, he told me to call the minute I think I’m pregnant again and that we’ll do extra blood work and a very early ultrasound to make sure things are going well.

I love my doctor.

From what I understand up to three miscarriages in a row are considered normal. Three. Apparently some doctors don’t start any extra tests or anything before a third loss. That just blows my mind. Thankfully I have good insurance and a doctor who is very compassionate and seems to want to put my mind at ease.

The next pregnancy will still be nervewracking but at least I’ll know that everything possible is being done to make sure there is a better outcome.

So that’s my happy news for the day. I don’t know if Joel and I will decide to start trying again right away or if we’ll wait a little while still. At least I know that I’ll have extra assurances once we get those two little lines again.

The two little lines that changed my life

I had these grand plans to make this blog about our journey from before we were ready, through trying to conceive then pregnancy and beyond.

Thing is, I felt like I had tons of time before I was remotely ready to start trying to conceive, so I put off writing here.

Then, for no reason at all, Joel and I both said “I wanna baby” and neither one of us said “Oh hell no!”* So, blame the rabies, but we tossed aside the condoms and went for it. I’ve tracked my cycles for years and have a general idea of when things happen but so the first month I pretty much knew we missed our window. Sure enough, we had. No disappointment, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy. I didn’t even own a basal thermometer. We figured out early on that birth control made me feel nauseous every. second. of. every. day. so it didn’t take us long into our marriage before we decided to toss it and go with good old fashion condoms.

For five years they worked without so much as a leak or a scare. I actually thought there might be something wrong with one of us they worked so well. I mean, I kept hearing about this baby from a broken condom and that baby from failed birth control blah blah blah and I got this idea that we were playing fast and loose with my uterus every time we had sex.

All that to say when we tossed them aside I really expected we had a long journey ahead of us.

This past month we still both had baby fever which is also something that’s never happened two months in a row. However, we had guests staying with us and we live in a tiny apartment with paper thin walls so out of consideration we held off and I thought we again missed our window. We chalked this month up to really fun practice and set our minds on trying again next time.

Only… the day my app (yes I track my period with an app, shut up) said I was due to start came and went without so much as a hint. Honestly, my only reaction was confusion so I recounted and realised the last several months I’d been having short cycles so I just chalked it up to me going back to my normal lengths.

No biggie.

Today was my adjusted due day.

Still no freaking hint of anything so, even though I promised myself I’d wait until I was officially a day late I peed on a stick.

No mistake there, huh?

So haha, we got pregnant right away. Considering my mom has six kids, and between two of my sisters they have five going on six kids I shouldn’t be surprised at. all.

I am surprised though. And excited. And terrified. I expected more time. I mean, I guess I have nine months to get ready. Because oh my god I’m a mommy.

::screams:: ::falls over (but gently, because ya know, the baby)::

So anyway, I have zero symptoms so far. The only symptom is a lack of ruined underwear, ahem. I have been taking naps but then I was up till 5am which is pretty normal for me if I take naps so I wouldn’t exactly call that a symptom. Come to think of it, some strawberries at the store the other day smelled super gross to me. They smelled great at first but when I picked them up to get a closer smell I thought I smelled mildew or feet or something so we didn’t buy them. Oh! I also had heartburn for the first time ever in my life last night. What?! Isn’t that not supposed to happen until the baby is big enough to press on your stomach? If that is a symptom already I’m getting a surrogate. It’s not too late for that yet right?

Kidding.

Mostly.

Anyway, due to my family history I really expected to be barfing my brains out at this point. My mom and one of my sisters are both cursed with severe morning all day sickness so I just assumed I’d be the same but so far so good. I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.

I haven’t told Joel yet. I wanted to pee on a stick when he was home but I couldn’t wait and now I’m going to die of excitement while I wait the million and a half (three) hours until he gets home. I will try and tape his reaction and post it. I wish I had taped mine but like I said before, I really truly didn’t expect to see a second line on that stick. **

Here we go motherhood!

*oh yeah, this is a mommy blogger who curses. Get over it.

**I waited until after I told him the news before I published this. It’s part of the journey though so I’m leaving it in.

A leap into less than happiness?

This morning my eyes slowly opened and I looked over at my sleeping husband. I smiled through my sleepy blinks at him lying there next to me. I pressed myself up against him and breathed deeply, taking in his smell of shampoo and sleep. He didn’t notice me this morning because he was in too deep of a sleep. That’s fine, I let him sleep a while longer.

I rolled out of bed and went to my computer to catch up on whatever happened while I was away sleeping. While browsing through Facebook I came across this article: If parenthood sucks, why do we love it? Because we’re addicted.

I’ve heard it before, parenthood actually decreases your happiness. According to this article the only reason people keep popping out babies is because of the occasional high you get. Most of the time parents with young children are miserable.

Yikes.

The thing is, I suspected that all along. It’s a huge part of why I’ve waited and resisted all the pressure to start adding more humans to the planet so far. I’m so happy with my life as it is, am I really ready to screw that up?

Will I ever be ready?

Who is ever ready to be less happy?

Joel and I have what is my idea of a perfect marriage. We love each other fiercely. We fight but we do it fairly. We forgive each other and move on after making mistakes. We have long afternoons filled with passionate sex and intimate cuddling. We take trips to exotic locations on a whim.

All these things and more make me so happy. When I lie in bed staring at Joel I can’t imagine doing it through bleary, sleep depraved eyes that haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in months. Will I be able to stare at him in those last moments of sleep or will I desperately be trying to catch every last second of shut eye before I have to return to my motherly duties?

I know myself. I become a grumpy monster without good sleep. Not sleeping makes me miserable. Naughty, whining children drive me crazy. I’d love to believe that I’ll be such an awesome parent that I’ll produce perfect children but we all know that’s not the case. My kids will have my DNA which means they’ll almost certainly be stubborn, creative, little evil geniuses.

When I remember some of the ways I acted towards my mom, dad and babysitters I cringe. I once convinced a babysitter to play a game that involved tying her hands to a doorknob. Then I convinced her to sit down. Then my sisters and I ran giggling out of the room leaving her unable to stand up. From the time I knew how to talk I knew how to manipulate things so they went my way. I never took no for an answer well. I got in a good deal of trouble but was very good at talking my way out of my punishments.

Then of course there was Joel. The stories he tells me about jumping off roofs, climbing trees and doing flips down steep hills on his bike terrify me. He basically poked his eye out when he was 6 and is now blind in that eye. Frankly I’m shocked that that’s the only major injury he ever got. He was such a dare devil. If we have a child like him I don’t know that my nerves can take the experience.

But then again, I look into Joel’s beautiful blue eyes and wonder what a mini version of him would look like. I see my beautiful sweet nephews and wonder if I could be as good at raising kiddos as my sisters have been. In the end I want to be surrounded by my children and grandchildren. I want a big happy family.

However, taking that leap into years of less happiness kind of feels like jumping out of a plane with a questionable parachute.

Childfree days

I look forward to having kids, I really do. However, after weekends like these I feel like I won’t mind putting it off just a while longer. This weekend my days went like this:

Thursday

Stayed out and had a few drinks with coworkers. Lots of laughing and talking. Good times.

Friday

2am finally collapse into bed

10am wake up, grab a bowl of cereal and hop back into bed while I poke around the internet on Twitter and such.

11am catch up on a few tv shows I missed over the week. Fight with CW.com’s online player. Stupid CW.

1pm feeling sleepy. Decide to lie down for a bit and take a nap before work.

3pm wake up feeling drugged. Must. shower. before. work.

3:30pm leave for work

11pm off work. Back to fooling around on the internet. In bed by 12am(ish).

Saturday

10am wake up, starving. Joel is not up yet so I move around a lot and “accidentally” bump into him.

10:30am release Phoebe on him. “oops”

11am make pancakes with apple butter. So freaking delicious.

12pm big breakfast made me sleepy. Decide to lie down for a nap. Enjoy some heavenly cuddles with Joel and the puppy.

2pm up for work. Thankfully don’t feel so drugged this time.

3:30pm leave for work.

10pm done with work. Joel and I run to Blockbuster to exchange our movie mailers for free in store rentals.

11pm munch on a caramel apple and watch two really lame movies. Still fun to cuddle on the couch though. In bed by around 2:30am.

Sunday

7am kiss Joel goodbye. He has to work. Lame.

12pm Joel gets home from work. This wakes me up. Nice.

1pm catch up with my mom and some others on the phone. Shower, get dressed and decide to go to a movie.

3:20pm Watch Devil. Not too bad but the clueless girls in the theater? Hilarious. Hearing them gasp as they got it ages after the movie made things obvious made Joel and I laugh hysterically.

6pm dinner. Possibly another movie but most likely we’ll just head to bed soon since I have to wake up at 3am for work.

I know that having kids has it’s rewards but the thought of giving up lovely lazy weekends like this is not something I’m ready to rush into.

Good dog

Phoebe really is such a good dog. She’s tiny but unlike most little dogs get isn’t nippy and she’s really great with kids. Don’t believe me? Here she is with my two year old nephew Jordan.

Jordan: “Come here Phoebe! Cuddle me!

Squishy puppy! Her face is kind of says ::sigh:: really?!

Joel said he thought Jordan was trying to perform the Vulcan mind meld on her. We do call him Jordie after all. Don’t worry, I made sure he didn’t actually put his fingers in her eyes.

This was the last picture I took. She was ready to get down but there was no growling or lip curling. She was totally resigned to the cuddles and pulling.

Seriously I don’t know how I ended up with such a great dog. There are a lot of things I’m worried about when I think about having my own kids. Whether or not Phoebe will get along with the babies however, isn’t one of them.

I love that sweet little girl.

Yet keeps moving

One question I get asked a lot is “When are you going to start having kids?” Is it just me or is that basically asking about my sex life? Like, why don’t you just ask what positions are our favorites? Or what kind of birth control we use. Or how often we do it.

While I wish I had the nerve to come back with “I’m not sure. So how’s your sex life?” I generally say something along the lines of  “We want kids eventually. We’re just not ready. Yet.”

When Joel and I got married we knew we didn’t want kids right away. We wanted time to really get to know each other better. To laze around the house in all states of undress. To go on a weekend trip on a moments notice. Basically we wanted time to be a fun, young married couple. We said we wanted to wait three to five years.

We’ve been married almost four and a half years.

Ho. ly. crap.

I love, love, love kids.  However, if I’m being totally honest I love kids less now than I did in my late teens and early earlier 20’s. Don’t get me wrong. The little kids in my life? Adorable. Love them to death. Can’t imagine my life without them. But there’s always the option to send them to their mother when I don’t want to deal with them.

What will it be like when I’m the mother?

Freaky.

Then there’s the whole sleep issue. When I don’t get enough sleep? Frankly, I’m kind of a bitch. What if I can’t handle the lack of sleep?

What if I don’t like my kid?

I love my freedom. I love having days of doing absolutely nothing at all. Once I’m a mom that’s gone, mostly likely forever.

Am I ready to give that up?

Will I ever be?

Anyway, this is on my mind lately. I definitely want kids. In fact, I kind of want a lot of kids. Now that I’m grown up and close to my siblings I want to give my children the same kind of experience. I’m pretty sure I don’t want 8 like my dad but definitely more than 2.

Actually, I’ve joked that we’ll just keep having kids until we get a bad one. Then we’ll stop.

I’m mostly kidding.

But seriously, I’m scared of having a colicky or difficult baby. Or getting postpartum depression.

I’m really scared that I’ll be a bad mom.

I’m so selfish. Not just sometimes. Most of the time. Growing a baby doesn’t magically change your personality does it?

I mean, even now I get so hurt and frustrated when my mom doesn’t have time for me. I hate not being able to get a hold of her. I’m twenty-freaking-four. Once you’re a mom, you’re always and forever a mom.

I’m just not sure when I’ll ever be ready to go from Me to Mom.

Since we hit that magic we’ve-been-married-for-three-years milestone we keep setting future dates to start trying. When the date comes we get cold feet and push it off further. There’s just so much I want to do.

I want to:

  • run a marathon
  • pay off our credit cards
  • buy a house
  • have some money in savings
  • get sexy pictures taken of me so I remember my awesome pre baby body
  • get in shape enough to where I feel like I have an awesome pre baby body

And ya know, a million other things that always seem to come up. I just don’t know if there will ever be a time that feels like it’s right. I’m afraid if I just keep waiting around to be ready it’s never going to happen.

Someone please tell me how you knew that you were ready. Did you wish you would have waited longer? Not waited as long?

It’s worth it right?

I want to be a young, fun mom. I just keep saying I’m not ready yet. But yet? Just keeps moving.

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén