Dr.'s Game Plan

Well, I sucked it up and headed to Dr. Grainger's today.

Dave was able to sneak away from work and he and I drove up to Wichita together, after stopping for a cheddar-wurst-puke-in-my-mouth hot dog for his lunch.

We were the only ones in the waiting room.  I sat around.  Dave sat around.  It was pretty freaking awesome.

Husband of the Year, even with the poo/blood mixture on his hat.

If you know Dave--well, he doesn't sit patiently very well.  He was bored to tears.  I reminded him this is what his patients have to do when he is in the back eating pizza and catching up on the latest epidsode of Days doing veterinarian things like wearing long gloves or hydrating a snake with gatorade (for realsies!). He said that at least they have dogs to entertain them. True.

We got escorted to the "special office" where I've only been twice before.  Deb, one of the nurses, took down my info and asked a little bit about my situation and wrote down some info in my ever-expanding folder.

And my tears made their grand entrance.

Not obnoxiously.  Just enough to need a tissue and make her feel sorry for me.

Then we waited for Dr. Grainger.

A long freaking time.

We looked at every piece of art on the wall (Dave said he wouldn't pay more than $5 for any of them).

He looked at every magazine.

And found these shoes- the Gravity Defyers- in one of them.

I don't know if they planned to have their ad in a magazine that was placed in a fertility doctor's office.

But, if they didn't, it was a sweet coincidence. Or super smart marketing.

Because look at the logo!

It screams Dr. Grainger's office!

Is there any grown man who would feel awesome wearing this shoes with those logos on the sides?   Excuse me, sir, do you realize you have sperm on your shoe? Whew. That's awkward.
If you want to read more about them, go here.

Maybe these are just the shoes to end our infertility and bring us buckets of children!

Too bad they are super-duper ugly.



Okay, that was a huge diversion.

The point is--we waited a long time.

Sweet Dr. Grainger came in.  He hugged me and immediately said, "Guys-what happened?"

Sigh. I love him.  He is so kind and thoughtful and hilarious.

We gave him the history- the ER visit, everything else being completely normal, no idea what caused Maggie's death.

He asked some questions and then I went through the list that I had for him.

I had a to-do list on my phone of what I wanted to ask him.

I will try to give you the short and sweet version.  If you really want to know more details about my insides, please ask.  I am not afraid to talk about them. And, I am not embarrassed either.  So, ask away if this bullet list does not provide you with enough information about my biz-nass.

DISCLAIMER. I teach 9 and 10 year olds.  I am not in the medical profession.  I'm pretty sure that I didn't get everything written down perfectly.  

• I am going in again in the next couple of weeks for a 3D histogram or sonohistogram or something like that.  This is going to check to see if everything inside of me is looking the way it should. He is going to look to see if there is any residual septum leftover from surgery last year and how things look after pregnancy.
• If things from the thing above don't look good, I am going to go under and have him go in and clean things out again. Not a complete laporoscopic surgery, but something where I get fun drugs and ice chips.
• If things do look good, we will start my treatments up again.  If you want full details of drugs and procedures, let me know.  The basics are: Ovidrel (injectible), Femara (oral pill), and IUI (get used to the acronyms- bet there are like 200 or 300 of them).
• He is hopeful that those procedures should be successful, as they were last time.
• He is also going to run some labs sometime in July that he usually runs for women with recurrent pregnancy loss (we just have to get insurance approval first). 
• He is also going to do some chromosomal analyses just to make sure that I am not whacked out and don't have crazy genes.
• He also might put me on Heparin, which is a blood thinner which may help with some of the bleeding that I experienced in December (ER visit). I was a little confused by this but Dave said it makes sense.  So, being the good wife, I shut up and listened.  Just kidding.  I just didn't need any more information swirling in my brain.  I'll ask Dr. Grainger later if it looks like an option.
• If/when I do get pregnant again, he (or Dr. Eck- not sure) would do more frequent sonograms to watch things.  He said that research has shown that the higher frequency of sonograms does lessen the chances of miscarriages/stillbirths.  And, not because they find anything that they can fix, but he said he thinks a lot has to do with lessening the stress levels.  

I feel good about things--good that I have a plan.
And, I am so thankful that I have such an excellent doctor.
I do have a load of things to be thankful for--that many women cannot even get to the point where I was at with Maggie, that I have an incredibly supportive husband, friends, coworkers.

Oh, and I forgot one thing.

Then I got my blood drawn to make sure I wasn't pregnant.

Surprise!

I wasn't.

BFN #36.  (Try to figure out that acronym!)

Relatively busy.

This week is busier than the last few weeks have been.
And, by busy I mean I have some things to do.
Besides making dinner and being the best! wife! ever!

Love www.annetaintor.com

On Wednesday I have my doctor's appointment.  Not sure how I feel about it.
Actually, I do.
I don't want to go.
I shouldn't be going.
I hate the thought of going back to that stupid clinic again.
And sitting in the stupid waiting room.
With the super-perky receptionist.
And pretending to look at magazines that are from 1997.

And then having to retell my story all-over-again.
I am crossing my fingers that Dave can get off of work.
I really don't know if I will be able to sit there with Dr. Grainger and tell him everything.
And not lose it.
I mean, I'm getting that cry-feeling in my throat just typing this.
It's not fair.
There- I said it.
Now I will stop whining.
Maybe.

On Wednesday night, one of my besties and her hubby and kiddos are coming to visit.
I am so excited.
They visited us several years ago, when they only had one kiddo.
We took them to all the happenin' places in town.
And saw all of the amazing sites.
Including this one:

Please enjoy the view on the rock.  I am sad I didn't have a bigger zoom lens. Yes, I am 10.

On Friday morning, Dave and I leave for Minnesota.
To see his family- including his sister and her family who are on furlough from a term in Bolivia.
I am thrilled to being seeing them since the last time we saw them was when we visited them in the summer of 2009.
And since we have seen them they have added 1.5 people to their family (that is a son, and a baby in utero).

Charagua, Bolivia.  About to take the 4  5 6 7 8 hour (only 45 more minutes, guys!) trip back to Santa Cruz.

I am trying to keep busy, as the inevitable July 11 date is quickly approaching.
I know Maggie probably would not have been born on July 11.
But, it is a symbolic date of her joining our family.
And, I am heartbroken that I now dread that date when a few months ago my heart did flutters whenever I thought of it.

And, although I need to keep busy, it is also hard when I think about being busy.
(I can't win!)
Because back in the spring, I knew that I wasn't going to be busy in July.
I wasn't going to be going to Minnesota because I wouldn't be able to travel.
And, as much as I love going to Minnesota and as much as I love being with Dave's family, I would much rather be at home.
Great with child.
About to meet my first daughter.

Wish me luck with my face.

Yesterday I was able to get another thing checked off my to-do list.

In January, during morning duty, a few coworkers and I were talking about lipstick watching the kids dutifully.  We were like hawks, I tell you.

I mentioned something about the fact that I own not one tube.  I haven't worn lipstick since our wedding in 2005.

(And that was quickly worn off during out 8 minute, never-ending, passionate kiss at the altar.)

They were shocked and we decided that it was time to update my "look."

So, we planned an overnight trip to Kansas City for some girl time.

So that I could get a new face.

Unfortunately, Maggie was born a few days before the trip was scheduled so they cancelled and never went.

Ever since then we have been talking about going back.

We planned the trip to Kansas City for this week.

But, then several people weren't able to make it because of things that came up.

It is impossible to get a time that works for everyone during the summer.

Everyone is just so darn busy.

So, we planned to go to Wichita instead.

To get me a new face.  To start a new beginning, or something, for me.

The first thing we did was head to Sephora.

Not the one that we went to, but close enough.  Source here.

Holy crap.
That place was totally out of my league.

The last time I had bought make-up was at Target several months prior.

This place?

Ridiculous. Overwhelming to say the least.

I felt like I was in a foreign country. I had no idea what half of the stuff even said or what it was for.

There is no way I would have gone in there by myself.

But, I put on my big-girl underpants and I scheduled a little make-over with John.

And sat in the fancy chair.

And he got busy.

Please Lord, I pray I don't look like a freaking clown after all of this is done.

He put about 18 layers just on my skin.

For moisturizing, priming, softening, soothing....

I have no idea what any of it was for.

Then he put more stuff on my eyes- stuff to get the bags to go away, primer, eye liner, eye shadow, mascara, more eye liner, some powdery white stuff, mayonnaise, and moisturizer.

Just kidding about the mayo.  But he totally could have put that on and I would have been like, "Cool! I never would have thought of that. I'm totally doing that when I get home."

Then he added some blush and bronzer and powder and eyeshadow to my face and forehead.

Then he put some plumper crap on my lips.  

And I crossed my fingers that I didn't end up looking like this:

Is this even attractive? Source

And he topped it off with some lip liner and lip gloss stuff.

Please ignore the gimp eye.  The mayo must have been weighing it down.

And then some other friends got some other quick things done.

Tried on fake eyelashes.

And airbrushed foundation.  

Who knew this was even popular?  John said he sells several of these things a week.  

For only $225 you can buy the airbrush. Then for $50 you can buy the foundation cartridge.

He said "everyone's doing it...it's the new thing."

What in the world?!?!

Needless to say, none of us purchased that.

But it was fun (and free) doing it.

Then, lunch at Il Vicino's in Bradley Fair.

Delicious.

This little piggy ate her whole pizza.

Then we did some shopping.

And found some shoes for the first day of school.

Welcome, fourth graders.

I am your tramp-bag-teacher.

What a happy day.

So glad that we finally got this done--6 months later.

Now, the only problem is I have this bag-o-goodies from Sephora and I have no recollection what they are for or how to use them or where to put them or when to put them on.

And, the best part?

When I got home, I asked Dave, "Does anything about me look different?"

And his reply?

"You got your uni-brow waxed!"

Sigh.

Longest Day of Summer.

I spent the morning gardening with my mom.

Cute mama in her cute gardening hat.

We picked green beans.

I like green beans now.
But I used to hate them as a kid.
I told my parents they made my teeth hurt. Hot dogs did too.
The thing is, when they are cooked, they squeak when you chew them.
It's gross and creeps me out.
It's just not right for food to be all squeaky in your mouth.
They made me eat them anyways.

But, I'm over that now.
Fresh green beans are delish.

Enough beans for a small village.

Then we dug up some taters.

Then I found this guy.  Munching on our goodies.

I thought he was cute.  Mom was ticked that he was eating our produce.

I just kept thinking that we had our own real-life very hungry caterpillar.

And we got some red onions and red beets.

*****************************************
On my way to and from my parent's house, I keep driving past this beauty.
For sale!
Calling out my name.

Dave already said no.
That we don't need this professional-grade mower for our acre of lawn.
I disagree.
Isn't she pretty?
I could mow some sweet lawn with that thing.
In like 5 seconds flat.
And my drink (which would be in my cup holder) would stay cold and wouldn't spill the entire time I was mowing.

I'm crossing my fingers for a really yellow anniversary present.
Dave, I hope you are reading this and taking notes furiously.
*****************************************
And guess who greeted me at the door when I got home?
Ferg-a-li-cious.

And then she went back to her busy day.

*****************************************
Anybody have some ideas on how to get a bluejay to stop crapping on your patio chair?
Dave's only idea is to shoot it.
(Good idea, Mr. Veterinarian.)

Obviously, Mr. Bluejay really likes him some mulberries.
Gross.

*****************************************

I didn't want your last mental image to be a pile of bluejay poo.

This was last December at Dave's parent's in Mini-sodah.

Not to be confused with my other favorite -- the mini soda.

But, either one should cool you off just by looking at them.

Oh sure, you betcha.

Mantra Monday

By one of my favorite authors, Roald Dahl.

From here

6 + 1 Reasons

I am hopeful that sometime I will be able to wish you a real Happy Father's Day instead of a lame one like I did today.  It didn't feel super happy to me today.

Like, it'd be fun to have a Father's Day where our daughter hasn't just died and I don't have to fake-sign her name on your card. 

You will be a great dad.  Because you are a great husband.

Why will you be a great dad?

0.  If we have kids, you have already told me that you will get up in the middle of the night every time the kid cries.  I won't have to even wake up. I can just lay there and sleep peacefully.  Remember when you told me that?  You pinky swore that you'd do that for me.

1.  You like to help kids.

Here, you are "helping" my niece complete some level. And she is "helping" you by not spilling your brewsky.

2.  You make me laugh.  Even when I am mad and don't want to laugh and just want to be mad.  I laugh anyways.  And, you make me laugh at inappropriate things.  Such as my to-do list that you hijacked at some point.  You think you're so funny.  And, I do too.

That will never happen. That will never get checked off my list.

3.  If necessary, you could deliver our child. You have offered, I have politely refused.  But, you could.

The poor lady doesn't even know what's comin'. 

And, you'd do it with a smile, if you had to.

4.  Kids love you.  And you could spend hours playing with them.  

Not quite sure what kind of castle you're building...

5. You are patient with me. And with pretty much everyone.

I don't have pictures of you being patient with me, your dear wife.  Probably because I don't take pictures when I'm torked off and you're being super patient with me.

6. You were a great daddy to Maggie.

I hope that, sometime soon, the little bundle you're staring at, is looking back at their amazingly wonderful daddy.  And you can look down at it and make plans for a future together.

And, I can sit there and watch.  With a full and happy heart.

JJRRMGT Forever. Word.

I'm just letting you know that I have the most awesomest-amazeballs-rock-my-world-friends of all times.

I love them.

This is our love story.

We met in college.  Not all at the same time, but eventually, the stars aligned (or however that saying goes) and we all became besties.  For life.

There are seven of us.  We even have a blog that has been frightfully ignored since facebook stole its thunder.

We don't see each other often enough.  For awhile we saw each other at weddings and a random visit here and there.  But now, we have to purposefully plan seeing each other.  Which kind of stinks.  'Cause they are super fun and I think I wet my pants from laughter every time I'm with them.

So, here we are when we last got together.  At Jillian's wedding.

Little Rach, Tric, Min, Jillian, Me (Big Rachel), Gretch, and Jules.

This was almost a year ago.  After this picture was taken I'm pretty sure we sat around a table for 4 hours talking and laughing hysterically.  I don't even know why we were laughing.  Something about a pen and Gloria and vases????  It's not really that funny, I know.

Anyways, I got a package in the mail today.  And I recognized the handwriting immediately.  And I knew immediately what it was.  And I was immediately happy.  I couldn't get up my driveway quickly enough.

Inside was a card and 2 CDs.  They had the brilliant idea of each submitting 5 songs to DJ Gretch-Dawg and she would compile the songs into some CDs.  Awesome.  I just listened to both of them.  And, I tried to predict who submitted which song.  Just like us and our randomness, the songs were super random and perfect reminders of my super  BFFs.

And, because I am obsessed with my friends, I want you to know them and love them as much as I do.

Little Rach-  

• She is Little Rachel and I am Big Rachel because we had the same first and last names in college.
• She likes to eat seaweed and wheat germ and sprouts and we like to make fun of her for it.
• She is an amazing mama- taking care of her kiddos while her husband plays bass for famous people.

Tric- 

• She is unbelievably thoughtful.  She puts all 7 of us to shame when it comes to staying in touch with people.
• She is an NP--if I ever get sick, I pick her as one of my nurses.
• She cannot be trusted with a pair of rollerblades.  She's a maniac, I tell you!

Min- 

• She married one of Dave's besties.  So when we get together, the boys play lame video games where they save the world from aliens and meteorites and we do way more important stuff.  Like drink coffee. And raid her snack drawer.
• She is strong and little.  I watch my back when I'm around her.
• I can guarantee a machine gun laugh when I am with her.

Jill-

• Jill's meals in college made me have that puke flavor in my mouth.  She ate cottage cheese with soy sauce and Malt-O-Meal with jelly and orange-square cheese.  Seriously.  
• She is an old soul--which is a really good thing.  She is thoughtful and full of good things and she says things that make me think and appreciate life.
• She has been known to play one mean game of Boggle.

Gretch-

• She knows more good music and has more decorating style than anyone I know.  Seriously, she should come decorate my house while playing me good music. Oh, and make me coffee and drinks.
• Her laugh is infectious.  I laugh just cause she is laughing, which I adore.  There's nothing better than that.
• Everything she says makes me laugh.  Like when she challenges Mindy to a fight.  Or when she calls all of our friends movie stars because they are too busy to respond to her emails.  And how she talks about how much she loves car races.

Jules-

• She and I lived in Rochester, MN together after college.  And she introduced me to Culver's Peanut Butter shakes and I owe her my life for that.  But, when you drink that shake, you have to stick your pinky out, just like Jule-bag does.
• She also married one of Dave's besties.  And yes, he is another one that saves the world via lame games.  And she just rolls her eyes about it.
• Jules has been super woman lately.  She finished going to school for being an NP, worked full time, and took care of her babies.  Superwoman? Yes.

I cannot say enough good things about them.

The only thing that I don't like about them is that we don't live down the street from each other.

That's our story.

And we lived happily ever after. 

In our Sunday pants.

Drinking coffee.

And listening to really good music.

Disclaimer.

**Disclaimer**

I am not pregnant.

I am just asking questions.
'Cause I'm not working and I have plenty of time to think now.
And I'd rather think than watch A Baby Story.  That show is pure evil.  It's not always a happy ending like that, folks.

So, I'm wondering--
what are your thoughts about not telling people you're pregnant until you're out of the 1st trimester?

I keep going back and forth in my mind about what I am going to do if there is a next time
(Of course, this is without Dave's input.  Of course, I would talk to him first but if things go like last time he wasn't super good at keeping Maggie a secret).

When I was pregnant with Maggie we waited to tell everyone until I was 13 weeks along.  Of course, we told close friends and family before then, but we tried to keep things hush-hush until we were out of the "danger zone" of the 1st trimester.

Well, that's a bunch of crap.
'Cause I waited.  Then told everybody.
Then I bought things and got gifts.
And thought of names.
And then she was gone.
And everyone knew.

I know most people wait because the 1st trimester is the time when the most miscarriages occur.  People wait so that they don't have to untell people and to make sure everything is okay.

But now I'm thinking that if I ever do get the privilege of being pregnant again, I am going to want the support of anyone I can get, from day one.  Even if I were to have a miscarriage or another stillbirth, I would want people to know so that I can get support.  There is no way I could have gone through this without the prayers and kindness of my peeps.

I get the whole not telling people until you're "safe," but if there's one thing I've learned since March, it's that there is no safe time when you're pregnant.

And, I'm pretty sure that people are going to be all up in my biz-nass asking, "How are things going?" which is code for, "Are you pregnant?  Are you trying? Are you going to the doctor again?"

So, what have other people done?  What do you suggest?
Would you guys think I was a huge-lame-loser when I told you that I was 5 weeks pregnant or something?

*****************************************
And, one more thing.

I found myself thinking of fetus nicknames the other day (I know...too...much...time....to....think).

And then as I was thinking about them I automatically thought about what real name I could make out of that nickname just in case we need a real name like we did for Magic. 
And that killed me.  And scared me. That I automatically thought of death when I thought of having another chid.

I feel totally lame.

And, just to make myself feel better.  Feet that aren't nasty.

[Source]
These feet are so nom-able. (They are not Maggie's).

Mantra Monday

I think this is a bunch of crap.

Just sayin'.

And, if you want to know what NOT to say to someone who is grieving, this is #1.

[Source]

And, 'cause this is funny.

I'd totally love to get this card sometime.
From my friends.
Not from my parents.
That would make this card super awkward.

[source]

What I'd take in a fire.

1 month until Maggie's due date.

(I'd be 36 weeks.)

The day I had been counting down for months.  No, years.

Waiting for it anxiously.

Now?

It's the day I've been dreading for months.

I'm trying to figure out what to do on that day.  Stay home?  Travel?  Meh.  Nothing really sounds that great.  I mean, what can compare to giving birth to your daughter?

Fries and a fountain Coke with rabbit-turd ice are my best option at this point.

*****************************************
For the last few months, I've had a box of Maggie's stuff.

Ideally, I want to put this stuff into a book or scan it in and make a snapfish book or something.

I guess I could add that to my to do list.

But I don't think I'm quite ready to work on that yet.

I might just sit there and drink a lot and eat lots of chips.

Which wouldn't be that horrible, I guess.

So instead,  I put all of it in the bottom drawer of our new dresser.

It was empty anyways.

I'm now rethinking all of this.  Maybe I should put this all in a scrapbook so that I can empty it out and fill it with new clothes.  Except lately I only want to buy clothes with elastic waists. But, a whole drawer of elastic-waisted-stretchy-Sunday-pants is not sounding so awful. In fact, it sounds like heaven in a wardrobe.

I don't understand how one kid can have so much crap.

I thought I was all clever labeling these with letters that you could read what each one is.

I must have been totally distracted by the delicious Coke that I may or may not have been drinking (I may or may not have vowed to stop drinking it again.  And I may or may not have told a friend last night after drinking one at her house that I can stop whenever I want.  The true voice of an addict).

Anyways, there are 2 Ds, 2 Es,  and 2 Fs and who knows what else I did with this madness.

And, don't forget. I teach your chilluns.

A.
Ultrasound Pictures--all of them from November to March.  The ones you can see are the first ones we ever got. She's just a blob of goodness right there.  I just wanted to squeeze that sesame seed of cuteness and perfection.


B.
A cute little stuffed moose given to Maggie by my parents' neighbor.

C.

Heaven Is For Real.  Have you read it?  Super good (and quick). And it helped me remember that Maggie and all the other kids are riding sparkly ponies through rivers of chocolate and marshmallows.

D.

Cards I've received and am too hoardy to throw away.  If you sent me one, I still have it.

D.

Pictures from a walk thing I did with some friends from work.  This was the weekend before Maggie was born and the last pictures I have of her in me.  Super creepy to think that she was probably not living at this point. 

E.

Maggie's photos from the hospital.  

E.

The adorable little booties that my friend made.  Seriously want crazy-jerk-cat-Fergie to wear these.  That is, if she wouldn't bite my face off in the process of dressing her.

F.

I'm a bit embarrassed that I'm saving this.  I feel like a bit of a hoarder.  This is the calendar I used for the year to track days, doctor appointments, when to give shots, take pills, when to take a crap, and when to breathe.  Everything was pretty scheduled.  It was my life.  I was so excited in November to think that I was done with this.  I now have a new one in my purse. 

F.

The box from the hospital that contains Maggie's hand and footprints, her baby blanket, and her wristbands from the hospital.

G.

A picture book given to me from a past coworker (Oh no!  I just realized I never sent you a thank you!  Please be watching your mail but for now, just know that the book was delivered (and the cookie was devoured) and I am so appreciative.  Thank you!  And thanks for not thinking I'm a huge jerk). It is beautiful- with amazing illustrations and words.

H.

The card that came with my flowers for Mother's Day from my in-laws.

I.

The manuals to our stroller and car seat.  Because we had no freaking idea what to do with them.  And, now, I have no freaking idea where they are.   Crossing my fingers that my mom put them somewhere. Ma?

J.

CDs of music that I have made and others have made.  Rod Stewart's Maggie May song is not on either one.  Have you read the lyrics? A little too Mrs. Robinson-ish for me.

K.

My two hospital bands--one from December from the ER and the other from March in labor & delivery. I don't think I've told the story about December and our scare. This is when we pretty much thought she was a girl.  She was already causing drama and costing us lots of money. That will have to come at a later time.  

L.

A little peek of the card that my students gave me when they gave me the Red Bud tree.

M.

Some memorabilia sent from some friends in Lithuania.  If you want to have wonderful people in your life, go there.  There's something in the water or beer (or brandy, LR!) there that makes them amazing.

I totally know what I would take if there was a fire in my house. I'd throw Dave and fatty kitty in there and run like the wind.  Yeah, I'm fast.

*****************************************

Also, while typing this, my fatty cat puked.

She either stuffed her face too quickly while eating or she has bulimia.

She has issues no matter how you slice it.

And, if there's a fire, she's totally on her own.

Sleepless Nights

For the past 10 years, I have kept a book filled with quotes, sayings, and verses that I like. After Maggie's death I spent hours reading that book, finding comfort in others' thoughts.  Some people have ways of writing things that are so beautifully and eloquently written yet they are so simple.

This past week my mom ordered some books about grief and loss (which is a whole other post--grandparents' grief--the loss of a grandchild and the inability to comfort your own child).  One of the books that she ordered was Still.  by Stephanie Paige Cole.  Cole is a poet and artist and has started a website after her experiences with loss.  On this website she shares her poetry, her art, and mission to help others who have experienced the loss of a child.

Please visit her website for more beautiful artwork, poetry, and memorials to children. In fact, she has even started the Sweet Pea Project, where people can donate blankets to hospitals for infants.

I wanted to share a few of my favorites:

I know you more intensely

then I have ever known anyone.

We shared my body.

I kept you warm and nourished

and helped you grow.

There was not one second of your life

that was not spent in my presence.

I held you your entire life.

But still I feel like there was so much about you

that I never knew

and now I'll never know

blood from your body

has pulsed through my heart, my veins

of course i am changed

An excerpt from: 

Why I Cannot Join a Mom's Group

And you don’t realize how good you have it

There are things worse than sleepless nights

with cranky infants

There are sleepless nights alone

And seriously. Sometimes I want to kick people in the teeth.

When they complain about how uncomfortable they are. 

Or how big their cankles are.

Or how they will never get their figure back.

Or how their boobs hurt.

Or how they got 2 hours of sleep last night.

Or how the _____ is such a mess because of the kids.

I realize all of those things are bad. Not wanted. 

But the alternative is worse.  Way worse.

I'd take a lifetime of cankles, sore boobs, and no sleep if I could have my Maggie back.

And all I want to (sarcastically) say is, "Wah.  I feel sorry for you.  I'm sorry you were able to conceive and nurture a child the way it was supposed to.  I'm sorry you have a child that is showing normal, miraculous, wonderful signs of life."  And then I want to say, "Wanna trade?" (don't take this the wrong way, I wouldn't trade my Maggie for the world).

I feel a littly jerky about this. But, seriously, folks.  I know you need to complain, but with your complaints, periodically send words of thanks up to God. Send thanks that you can complain about those things.  Because I know there are thousands of women who would trade spots with you in an instant. Without a second guess.

I agree with Stephanie Paige Cole--there are way worse things than sleepless nights with cranky infants.  Sleepless nights alone. They suck.  Trust me.