Tuesday, April 24, 2012


Its that time of year again... National Infertility Awareness Week.  This years theme from Resolve is "Don't Ignore Infertility"... although, to someone dealing with infertility, that's like saying "Don't ignore the elephant in the room" or "Don't ignore whats staring you in the face every morning in the mirror" or "Don't ignore that needle as you plunge it into the soft tissue of your stomach".  Really, there's no way to ignore infertility for those going through it.  I get what Resolve meant and I understand that infertility and all that goes with it needs to be talked about... its not some shameful secret that people should carry around.  God knows I don't feel that way about it; my poor family and friends know more about my uterine lining and egg quality and The Husband's sperm count than they ever wanted to.  And I (and the Husband) are both okay with that.

I think one thing we need to not forget is that infertility is one hell of a battle to fight and you need an army behind you when you face it head on.  I think that the one thing that kept me (relatively) sane through our entire journey was the fact that everyone knew what we were going through.  There were a few people who were ignorant to our situation, but for the most part, our friends and families knew what we were going through.  We never had to deal with the "When are you guys going to pop out kids" questions or the like.  We had a HUGE and amazing support system who were there for us through the worst of times.  They knew what we needed and what we didn't.

After the first miscarriage, two of our best friends drug us out of the house and along with them to their wedding cake and catering taste testing.  They wouldn't let us wallow for too long and they MADE us get out of the house and on with our lives.

During the IVF miscarriage, Mom came out and held our hands in the ultrasound room as our blighted ovum was confirmed.  Everyone stateside wept with us and mourned with us and then helped us pick ourselves back up and moved on.

During our last miscarriage, our friends in England brought over junk food and chocolate and made sure my shifts at work were covered so we could have time off to grieve.  And again, everyone stateside mourned with us.

Every single time we've gone through a miscarriage or IVF, EVERYONE has gone out of their way to do whatever we needed them to do; even if it was giving us space for a few days and then picking up the phone.

Last mother's day, still licking my wounds from the hellacious previous year, I received a Mother's Day card in the mail and hand written on the inside was: "You deserve a Mother's Day just like the rest of us". I bawled my eyes out, but I felt validated as a mother... and it meant the world to me.

I realize that not everyone feels the same way I do and prefer to go through things in private.  And I know that a lot of people think that infertility and miscarriages and all that stuff should be kept private, but I am not one of those people.  I need to talk about it.  I need to have support and to have people to talk to.  I need to share what's going on and how I'm feeling.

All that support and love helped me... helped The Husband and me, get through everything we went through and still are going through.  And that is something I won't forget.  I won't forget the army of love and support that got us through the Infertility and the miscarriages.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

A Thousand Years

Music has always played a huge part in my life.  I grew up in a house of people who love music and from a young age I too have loved music.  I have a very eclectic taste in music... my iPod has everything from broadway musicals to 70's rock, to praise music, to choir music, to some pop, rock, alternative, and the list goes on.  Throughout my life, music is an ever present thread that continues to weave in and out of my memories.  

There are a couple of songs that have always struck a chord in me, especially while we were trying to get pregnant.  Songs that I couldn't always listen to because they would hurt too much.  

Since we had Ticky Boo, I've been able to sing her the lullaby's I so wanted to sing and those moments are incredible precious to me.  I've never heard a song that really captured "us" though... until now.  

I had heard this song on the radio a couple of times and really liked it.  I thought it was so romantic and sweet and I downloaded it to my phone and put it in the playlist for my trip back to VA.  It came on as I was about an hour and a half into my drive and Ticky Boo was sleeping soundly in the back.  As the music filled my car I really listened to the words and then tears started streaming down my face... this song was absolutely perfect for Stella's birth.  I could see the memory of that night play in my mind as this song played on the radio.  And I fell even more in love with Ticky Boo and this song!   

Thousand Years by Christina Perri

Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow

One step closer

I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What's standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this

One step closer

I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

One step closer
One step closer

I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

Friday, April 13, 2012


As I said a few weeks ago... the rent is due on our embryos.  

I've been home for a little over a week now.  The paperwork has been sitting on my dresser, unopened.  Until tonight.  Tonight, I sat down on my bed after everyone else had gone to sleep and I opened up the paper work.  It opened with a letter explaining that it was time to evaluate what we wanted done with our frozen embryo's.  We have four choices:

1.  Continue paying for them to remain frozen.
2.  Donate them to medical research.
3.  Have them disposed of.
4.  Donate them to another couple. 

Before the Husband left on deployment, well, almost a year ago really, we decided that we'd have our embryos donated to medical research in the hopes that they could help find an answer to something... we hoped that there could be a reason and a purpose for everything we went through (well, aside from the obvious).  Why is that?  Why do we need a reason for everything?  Why do we have to have an explanation?  Cant shitty things just happen?  I guess I cant just let it be like that... I guess I need there to have been a reason for everything... and I guess I'm just too damn nosy to accept the God's will/life path explanation.  So, we're hoping that maybe our beautifully perfect, healthy, high grade embryo's will shed some light on something in the medical community. 

The problem with all that is... our embryo's are a "them".  And one day "they" could possibly be people... if only given the chance.  I guess I cant look at "them" like that though and still sign my name on the dotted line.  I guess I have to take out the emotions of all this and look at "them" as just embryos... not the possibility that they hold.  Its not easy.  I am a firm believer that life begins at conception and for lack of a better term, these guys are life... just frozen.  Its been a difficult decision to talk over with The Husband about what to do with the embryos... but I have to believe that we're making the right decision. 

I still stand by not ever wanting to go through IVF again.  And neither one of us are comfortable with donating embryo's to another couple.  Eggs are one thing, but embryo's are a part of both of us and we just aren't okay with that.  So... medical research it is... and filling out paper work that's been sitting there staring at me for a week it is.... 

And hoping and praying that our embryo's turn into good stem cells for the researchers to learn from.  And hoping and praying for no regrets.

And taking a deep breath and feeling relief that that's another chapter in our lives that's really coming to a final close.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Easter Basket

Just a forewarning, this is going to be a sad/sappy and relatively pointless post... I apologize in advance, I'm feeling somewhat melancholy today. 

This Sunday is Easter.  Tomorrow I will put together Ticky-boo's first Easter Basket.  And I'll do it alone.  Not that it takes two people to put together a basket, but The Husband is still out floating around the ocean and I'm still here playing Mommy and Daddy and while, most days, its not a big deal, it definitely sucks during Holidays.  

Every Sunday morning on Easter, our home church does this thing called flowering the cross.  Basically there's a big wooden cross covered in chicken wire at the front of the church.  When the services start, its completely bare, and when everyone gets there, hymns are played and everyone walks up the aisle and puts flowers in the wire and onto the cross.  By the end of both services, the cross is COVERED in beautiful flowers!  It is a very moving and touching part of the Easter service and it is probably my favorite part of any church service.  

Well, this year, Ticky-boo gets to participate!  She's taking quite a few steps on her own now, so I'm going to hold one of her hands and we're going to walk up the aisle and flower the cross together.... and I'm probably going to bawl the whole time.  Mom says she probably will too... but she's going to try and video it for the Husband so he can watch it.  Fingers crossed that she cooperates and walks down the aisle with me!  I hope that it will help him feel like he's here in some capacity. 

Needless to say, I am ready for the Husband to be home.  Not just for me, but for him and Ticky-boo too.  I hate that he's missing so much.  And I hate that she's missing him so much.  She at least knows who he is... she carries a picture of the two of them around and she'll kiss it and give Daddy kisses.  I'm just ready for her to be able to give the real thing kisses.  

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

9 Month Stats

Today we went in for Ticky-boo's 9 month appointment.  We saw a new pediatrician today and I really liked her.  I tend to be picky when it comes to medical professionals, but I know what I want and I make no apologies for wanting the best when it comes to a pediatrician.

*Weight:  15 pounds 15 ounces!!!!!!  Hooray!!!!
*Height: 27.5 inches

The doctor was extremely pleased with her development and her growth.  She said she is not AT ALL concerned with her weight!  That was a huge relief.  Her biological family are all really small people, so I knew to expect her to be tiny, but I was still concerned since her growth chart dropped so drastically (from 50%-10%).  The doc said that she is just long and lean and that she'd much rather her have that body type than any other one... cant say that I disagree with that statement at all!  I would much rather Ticky-boo grow up with a smaller frame and a great metabolism than to struggle with her weight the rest of her life.

We got the go ahead to stop baby food and go straight to table foods, which is awesome.  I have made all of Ticky's food since she was 4 months old with very few exceptions, so to be able to just give her what I eat is pretty exciting... also a pretty good wake up call that I have to actually get up off my ass and cook something healthy for myself every day.

The doctor was surprised that she shows such a preference for her left hand... she said that it was really early to be showing favoritism to one side.  But she checked her muscle tone and strength and said that everything was perfectly even and that she was curious to see if the left-handedness continues.

On to the sleep thing... I talked to her about my concerns with her waking up all the time and not sleeping well and she told me to Ferberize her.  For those of you not familiar with "Ferberizing" or Modern Family, Ferberizing is Dr. Ferber's method of letting the child cry it out.  Ticky-boo's pediatrician said that it would only take 3 days and that it would work.  I tried to tell her that we've done it, but she insisted that I try it again and be consistent.  She said that there was a chance that the first night we would get NO sleep at all, but to keep at it and I'd probably get a few hours the next night and that she'd be great the 3rd night.  I'm still trying to decide how I feel about that and what to do.

So there you have it.  9 months and doing fantastic!!!  We go back in 3 months for her 1 year well baby...its hard to believe that in 3 short months I'll have a one year old!

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

The Rent is due...

I got a phone call from my dad the other day saying that we'd received mail from someone in Cambridge, England.  We used my parents' house as our forwarding address when we left England, and I knew what it was... the rent is due on the 2 embryo's we have on ice at the Bourn Clinic.

We've talked about, and I remain adamant, about the fact that we dont want any more children; that I especially do NOT ever want to go through IVF again and that when the time came, we would have our embryo's thawed out and we would donate them to medical research in the hopes that something good would come out of those stem cells and that maybe our blood, sweat, tears, eggs, and sperm could cure AIDS or something.  That was the plan.  Well, I guess its still the plan, but as with most things in life, its harder to actually make the decision when its staring you in the face and no longer a hypothetical situation.

To be clear, I'm not wavering... I still dont want to put us through IVF again, but now, as I'm faced with signing my name on the dotted line and thawing out our last remaining embryo's, I'm left with a feeling of... I dont know; betrayal to the dynamic duo?  Relief?  Guilt at said relief?  Anxiousness at making the wrong decision?  Wondering if this goes against my life begins at conception beliefs?  Feeling sorry for what could have been?  I'm filled with a jumble of emotions and it sucks on a whole other level because The Husband isn't here to hold my hand and be my rock and steady that storm of emotions raging through me.  He's the only one that could look me in the face, tell me to relax, and help make the final call and make me feel good about it.  And he's out to sea, floating around the ocean with a storm of emotions all his own, I'm sure.

In faced with signing my name on the dotted line, I am also faced with the fact that I think its time to get some help.  I kind of touched on my fucked-uppedness  before, but I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and I think its time to get some counseling and really heal from everything we went through.  I think I spent so long telling everyone I was okay, that I never really got the chance to be okay.  What we went through left some deep emotional scars that need to be dealt with and I think its time.

I looked into counseling in the Virginia area and I cant really find anyone who seems like they'd fit my needs.  I dont need counseling for abuse or PTSD or relationships... I need someone who understands the infertility world and miscarriages and all that.  Someone who gets what my body went through as well as my mind.  I think what I'm going to do is call around to some fertility clinics in the area and ask if they can recommend someone.  I figure, if anyone is going to be able to point me in the right direction, it ought to be them, right?

Basically the moral of the story is that, even if you have a happy ending, infertility will always suck balls.  Big ones.


Life these days is... um, stressful, to say the least.

Ticky-boo is still not sleeping.  She will occasionally trick me and sleep halfway decent one or two nights and then inevitably she reverts back to her old tricks the next 20 nights.  I'm pretty much at a loss at this point.  I've done it all.  I've read books and blogs and parenting websites, I've researched Dr. Sears' website and Dr. Laura Markham's website, I've talked to Mom's and Dad's and grandparents and solicited advice (as well as heard my fair share of unsolicited advice), I've let her cry it out, I've held her all night, she's slept in her swing, pack and play, crib, my bed, and my arms, we've done routine and no routine, music, no music, fan, no fan... and nothing... I repeat... nothing has worked.  She remains restless.  Even when she sleeps with me, she's restless through the night.  Most everyone's advice consists of some form of making her cry it out.

People, let me go ahead and clear the air right now and say that my daughter is a resilient and dedicated screamer.  She doesn't just cry.  She screams.  And I'm not being dramatic.  I have witnesses.  She screams at the top of her lungs and doesn't let up... at all.  She can go for hours.  Yes, hours.  I think her maximum screaming time is about 4.5 hours and by the end of probably an hour, I was crying too.  Oh, and that's WITH ME HOLDING her.  Granted, once I switched her to the hypo-allergenic milk, the screaming has gotten some better, but not much.  Her night time patterns are also not very consistent.  There are nights that she wakes once or twice and nights she wakes 5 or 6 times.  There are nights she screams and nights she just wakes up.  There are nights she wants to get up and play and nights that she just wants to go back to sleep.  I've tried feeding her, even though they say they dont need to eat in the middle of the night anymore, and she doesn't even want a bottle.  She just wakes up.  So, to say that I'm exhausted doesn't even cover it.

On top of being tired... we're moving.  I was a little...over zealous in choosing the house that we're currently renting and our rent amount teeters a little too closely to our housing allowance amount and our  monthly utilities are exorbitant.  So, we're moving.  And I use we to imply myself and Ticky-boo... granted, The Husband will be moving as well, but he's out floating in the middle of the ocean as I type this, so its me, Ticky-Boo, and whatever friend and family members I can coerce into helping me.  I am packing up our worldly belongings and hoping to fit them in the 10x10 storage unit I've rented.  From there, I'm moving in with some friends, saving up some money, and starting the great house search all over again.  Oh, and did I mention that I have to find a temporary home for the high maintenance four-legged son of mine since our friends' landlords dont allow dogs?  Joy.

To say things are stressful is like saying the sky is blue or Ticky-boo doesn't sleep.  And even then, I dont think stressful even begins to cover it.  I know the packing thing will happen.  I'm actually a whiz at packing... this most definitely is not my first rodeo, so I can get that done in time.  The sleep thing and the other day to day stressors in my life?  I dont know about those... finding a house is priority number 1 and its more difficult than I imagined.  It was seriously easier to find a place in England than it is to find one here!  And I swear, I'm not being that picky.  My top must-have in a rental is that we HAVE to be in a safe neighborhood.  I have to stay on my own so much that I need to be and feel safe and secure.  So, I'm attempting to find the perfect house to rent and make our home.

Side note... Ticky-boo's 9 month well-baby is tomorrow... I am anxious to see what her stats are.  I'm a little nervous... I want her to have gained weight and be back on track as far as her weight growth chart goes...so fingers crossed for a good visit!

Our Breastfeeding journey

I've applied to have this blog put on a new blog roll of parenting after infertility (PAIL), so for those of you who have been hanging on for a while, you're about to re-read some info.... for that, I apologize... I'll try to make it interesting...lol.

The monthly theme post for PAIL this month is breastfeeding.  Being an adoptive mom, I wanted to be sure and get my perspective and opinion out there for other adoptive moms.  Making the decision to nurse is a huge decision, whether you're a biological or adoptive mom.  It was a decision that I knew I wanted to make... after almost 5 years of infertility, there were a few things I knew I wanted to do if/when we ever had a baby of our own and breast feeding was at the top of that list.  It was something that I honestly never thought I'd get the chance to do... until a miracle happened.

On May 19th of last year, we were asked to adopt a baby girl who was due to be born in July.  In addition to all the paper work and preparations, I decided that I wanted to at least try to breast feed.  With our years of infertility under my belt, I'd had plenty of time on the internet researching everything and had come across information about adoptive nursing.  I made an appointment with a very supportive nurse practitioner who gave me loads of information and a prescription for Domperidone.

I went to the health foods store and stocked up on Fenugreek and Blessed thistle, bought a breast pump and started pumping away.  I struggled for five weeks to try and get even the tiniest drop of milk.  Finally, on June 21st, I managed to squeeze out a drop from each breast.  I was ecstatic!  

On June 22nd, my husband and I stood in the delivery room and welcomed our beautiful baby girl into the world.  She was placed in my arms within minutes of delivering and I took a deep breath and together, we nursed for the first time.  She latched like a champ and I sat there in a rocking chair, nursing my daughter.  It was a surreal moment.  

While in the hospital, we used a Supplemental Nursing System to make sure she was getting something and went home excited and and positive and ready to continue our breastfeeding journey.  And then we went to the pediatrician for the first time.  She was not supportive, at all, of an adoptive mother breast feeding.  She actually said to me, "There is no way you will ever be able to produce enough milk to feed her.  You have to put her on formula today." So, not knowing what would happen (in reference to all the adoption goings-on), we felt like we had no choice but to put her on formula.  I still nursed her, but she was on formula about half the time.  

I know I had milk.  She would pull herself off my breast and grin at me and milk would pour out of her mouth.  I never had much success in pumping; I think the most I ever got was about an ounce all total.  But after a round of jaundice, her pediatrician continued to pressure us to use formula.  And we obliged.  

Eventually, her latch changed.  It became extremely painful to nurse and I decided to try and use a nipple shield.  I figured it would be easier on her with going back and forth between bottle and breast.  I didn't realize, however, that using the shield would affect my supply and be our demise.

I ran out of Domperidone when she was almost a month old.  I figured (and hoped) that since we'd been nursing for a month that I would be okay.  I was wrong.  My milk completely dried up in a matter of days.  It was at that point that I had to make a decision.  I had been taking 22 pills a day for over two months and pumping multiple times a day to establish my supply and it wasn't enough.  I was exhausted.  I loved nursing, but didn't know how much longer I could keep it up.  I also had to decide whether or not I thought it was worth it for the baby to have breastmilk laced with medication.  So, I quit.  A decision I regret every day and she's almost nine months old.  

I know that I could have exclusively nursed her if I'd had the support of her pediatrician and if I'd never used the nipple shield.  If I had been my own advocate through it all and fought for me and my boobs... but I didn't.  My husband and I were so afraid that if we rocked the boat at all with her doctor, that it would be seen as our not following medical advice and they'd take her away from us.  So we didn't fight.  And I wish we had. 

Nursing my daughter was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I felt like it really solidified the bond between us and I think that it helped her really bond with me as her mother.  I think for the rest of my life I will feel a little cheated out of the full experience of nursing her... I will always feel that I didn't fight hard enough or try long enough to make it work exclusively.  But I will also always feel incredibly blessed that I even had the opportunity to nurse her at all. 

The Adoption Details

For those of you new to the party, here's a break down of our whole adoption process.  It was definitely not your average adoption.

Almost 7 years ago, I started working at a jewelry store.  I never really wanted to work there... it just sort of happened.  During my time there, I got married, my husband deployed for the first time, and I stayed home, working for the months he was gone.  In that time, I became friends with one of the girls who I worked with.  We were never super close friends, especially once I moved away, but we stayed in contact, though it was never really consistent.  When all of our fertility issues started, I started a blog and updated it regularly, chronicling our struggles and our journey... being open and honest about how badly we wanted to be parents.

On April 7th, The Husband and I sat down and talked about giving up trying to conceive.  We were coming up on the five year mark of our trying to get pregnant and I just couldn't make it to five years.  I just couldn't do it.  And neither could he.  So, we threw in the towel, I got on birth control, and we made a new life plan that involved no children.  And we moved on.

That May, we went back home for my little brother's wedding.  The day before, the rehearsal dinner, I was at the church helping my future sister in law decorate for the wedding.... there was a lull in decorating and I called the friend from the jewelry store.  We had been playing phone tag for a few months and it was finally a good time for the both of us to talk.  I walked around outside the church and after she sort of hemmed and hawed for a good ten minutes telling me she had something important to say but she didn't know how to say it... she finally said it...she told me that she was pregnant and that she wanted The Husband and I to adopt her baby.  All the pacing I'd been doing stopped.  I stood there in front of the church, speechless.  I dont even remember breathing.

I was absolutely shocked!  I told her that I would have to talk to The Husband and that I would get back to her as soon as I could.  She asked me if I had any questions and I asked her due date... July 5th; a short 7 weeks away.  I also took a deep breath and asked if she knew the sex of the baby... it was a girl.  We hung up the phone, I attempted to compose myself and I walked back into the church.  I called my mom into the narthex and away from everyone else and told her what was going on.  We somehow managed to keep it together and not tell anyone and finished up the church.  We headed back home and I did some more pacing until The Husband got home from hiking in the mountains with our dad's and brothers.

I met the car outside and he knew something was up. We ended up taking a walk down the street and I told him what was going on. His reaction? "Okay". Just like that. When I told him that she was due in about 7 weeks, there was a bit of a pause before he said, "Okay, lets do this. Why did you even ask? You know I've wanted to adopt forever!"

I called the birth mom back and told her our answer was a definite "Yes!" I could almost feel her anxiety and stress and worry lifting over the phone. She had been thinking about this for months and months and finally she had her answer and that weight could be lifted. She told me that the reason she'd waited until this late was because she wanted to make sure she was 100% sure before she even said anything to me; that she didn't want to ask us and then change her mind and break our hearts again. Which, I most definitely appreciate.

So, we set about to telling our parents and our little brothers and their respective partners and a handful of other people and that was it. Everyone was a little shell shocked (as we both were too), and its needless to say, more than excited! We didn't tell any other family members because we wanted to wait until after my brother's wedding so the focus would be on them.  Once the wedding was over, we started making the big announcement and preparing for the arrival of our daughter. 

First thing we did was contact a lawyer and get the legal things started.  We spent weeks filling out paper work, meeting with our lawyer, taking the birth mom to the doctor, having meetings with the social worker, running around like crazy trying to get background checks done, and not to mention shoving 9 months worth of preparation into only a few weeks.  

On June 22nd, we picked up the birth mom to take her to he 37 week check up.  She met us at the car with pillow and bag in hand and breathlessly told us that she thought it was time.  We called her midwife and met her at the hospital.  We walked into the ER at 4:30 pm and at 7:27 pm, our beautiful and amazing daughter came into this world.  The Husband and I were both in the room and I actually helped deliver her.  It was an incredible and defining moment in my life and I was instantly in love with our little miracle.  

The logistics... 

The paperwork was filed with the court system in July.  Our adoption was finalized in October, exactly 90 days after it was filed.

We got her birth certificate from the State Vital records office in January and we are still awaiting her Social Security card... though its been applied for.  Once we get that, we are totally and completely finished with paperwork!  All in all, (if I ever get her SS card), the whole process from phone call to completely and utterly finished should be a little less than a year.

Sunday, March 11, 2012


Ticky-boo has her own iPod.  It's actually the very first iPod I ever had that she has inherited since I've moved on up in the world of Apple products and now sport a handy dandy iPhone 4s.  The Husband and I have picked out loads of music and put it on her iPod in the hopes of teaching her about good music and also soothing her to sleep.  Tonight as I rocked her to sleep, Josh Groban's "Lullaby" came across the speakers.  Now, during our time trying to conceive, there were a couple of songs that I couldn't listen to without crying.  That was one of them.

Its been on her playlist since forever, but I've managed to miss it when rocking her to sleep.  Until tonight.  It came on just as she closed her eyes and fell asleep in my arms.  I sang every word to her in a quiet voice and tears poured out of my eyes.  It was a moment that I had unknowingly been waiting for... to sing her that sweet lullaby.

There have been moments in the past 10 months since we found out about Ticky-boo that have really made this entire journey worth it... things that I either never expected I'd be able to do, or things that I never thought would be that big of a deal or things that I knew would be a big deal and they were.  But those quiet moments for just me and her have been some of the best.  Tonight was one of those nights... rocking her and singing to her made me just melt.  That moment took me back to all those nights when my arms ached from feeling empty and my heart hurt from so much pain... I was reminded of what all we went through and why we fought so hard.  And she is so worth it...She's even worth not sleeping...lol

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Things no one tells you about being a mom.

I know that I just recently got my Mom card, so I realize that I still have A LOT to learn.  But I have learned a few things in my 8 months...

1.  At some point, you WILL get poop on you.  People joke about this occasionally, but all jokes aside, it happens.  And it is GROSS.  I've gotten poop under my fingernails like twice now.  That is twice too many times if you ask me!  There are times (like this morning's lovely diaper) when you get to wake up to a diaper filled with squishy, nasty, interesting colored (she had blueberries last night) poop.  And it will be everywhere.  Sometimes, a diaper cant even contain the mess.  And you'll inevitably get poop on you.  Dont fight it.  It is going to happen.

2.  While we're on the subject of poop, you will most definitely sniff your child's butt to check for poop... way more than you ever thought you would.  And yes, it is gross.  And no, you cant stop yourself.  It becomes habit.  A nasty, disgusting, habit.  Gag.

3.  You will do things you swore you'd never do.  Its no secret that Ticky-boo is a terrible sleeper.  She used to sleep.  I swear it... although, its coming to the point, that I am questioning that memory... its been so long since she actually slept, were those couple of weeks of blissful sleep all a dream?  Anyway... Ticky-boo is 8 months old and while I expected to not sleep very much the first few months, I kind of expected to be at least getting sleep that somewhat resembled a full night.  However, between the hours of 8 pm-8am our house is a battlefield.  Ticky wages war against sleep and there are many, many nights, when her camp wins out.  Last night was one of those nights.  She slept on her own (after screaming for an hour) in her pack and play until 1:30am.  Then she woke up crying.  I laid her back down and got her back to sleep.  I laid down and closed my eyes and she got back up, crying.  Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Until I finally gave up and pulled her in bed with me.  Again.  For like the 30th night in a row.  I never wanted to co-sleep.  Never.  I never minded the thought of sleeping with a baby in the same room, but the same bed?  No.  Until my baby refused to sleep unless she's attached to me.  I gave in and did the thing I swore I'd never do.  We are a co-sleeping duo as of now.  And I hate to break it to the tiny human that loves to snuggle with me, but it is a habit that Mommy WILL break.  And it will be broken well before Daddy comes home.

4.  There will be times when you feel like an awful parent.  In accordance with revelation #3, I didn't get any sleep last night.  Even when Ticky-boo was in bed next to me, she was restless.  All. Night.  Long.  So when she decided to get up at 6:45, I was beyond exhausted.  I think I was cross eyed and I stumbled down the stairs and made her a bottle.  She sucked it down and then I put her in her pack and play with some toys and I turned the TV on and went back to sleep.  Yep.  I feel like an awful parent.  I know she was safe and she was right next to me, so if she had cried or needed me, I was right there, but still.... I feel like an awful parent.

5.  Sometimes you have to do things for yourself.  Tying in with #4, regardless of my feeling like a shitty parent for letting Ticky-boo play in her pack and play while I got an extra half hour of sleep, I had to do it.  Even though I didn't really sleep or sleep that long, it was extra rest and time to wake up and I felt sooo much better once I got up.  Its obviously not something I plan to do on a regular basis, but I know now that I have to make time for myself... I have to do things for myself to be a better parent.  My new goal is to try and get the baby to bed on her own earlier at night so I can have a couple of hours to myself to read or watch trashy tv shows or to take a bath or a shower or do whatever it is that I feel like I need to do for myself.  Because, I know in the long run, it will help me to be more patient and therefore, making me a better mom to Ticky-boo.

I know I'm not done with my list.  There are so many things people dont tell you about being a parent.  But I think its because you have to learn those things on your own.  No book or blog or doctor or wise grandmother can really and truly prepare you for parenthood.  Its different for everyone and even though we might all have the same experiences, they're going to be different to us.  Things that are significant to me might be unimportant to my best friend and vice versa.  But that's part of the journey... and it is filled with experiences and lessons to be learned and its a wild ride.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Just the two of us...

The Husband has now been gone for a little over a month.  Mom was here when he left and then I headed home with her to celebrate my birthday and just hang out with friends and family for a bit.  I ended up down in NC for about 3 weeks.  I just got back up here a couple of days ago.  I walked in the house and it really hit me that this was it... The Husband was gone for x amount of months and its just me and Ticky-boo.... just the two of us.

It was an odd sort of feeling.  I knew it was inevitable.  Every military spouse who has gone through a deployment knows that before long, it hits you that they're gone and that you're on your own.  I walked through the house and kind of just felt slightly overwhelmed at everything.  When Mom and I left, we kind of just left everything in a state!  Not to mention that while I was gone, the things that we had in storage from San Diego got delivered... so not only did I have a messy house, I had a house packed with random stuff that I have no idea where to put it all!

As I settle back into our home, I am nervous and excited about the next however many months.  I'm nervous because I'm on my own.  I'm totally and completely on my own!  But, Ticky Boo is eight months old, so these next few months are going to be filled with excitement and new developments and I'm so stoked to see everything she's going to do and learn!  She's turning into a little person and she amazes me every day.

I'm also excited because, as it warms up, I know we'll spend loads more time outside taking walks, going to the park, going swimming, and so I know with all that, our time will go by so fast and before I know it, we'll be standing on the pier welcoming him home!

I wish The Husband was here to experience it all.  I try my best to involve him in every way that I can.  He gets pictures every day and I send videos at least a couple of times a week.  Not to mention, when he pulls in port we get to talk on the phone and some times even Skype, so he and the baby can see and hear each other.  But I know its not the same... for any of us.  I'm ready for the day when he can come home and be home longer than a couple of months before he's off again.

Monday, February 27, 2012


Today Ticky-boo had her 6 month well baby appointment... it was only 2 months late (We had major issues getting her on our insurance, but that's a whole 'nother post that is shortly on its way), but at least I got her in...

Her stats:
Age: 8 months 5 days
Weight: 15 pounds 9 ounces (10th percentile)
Height:  25.25 inches (50th percentile)
Head Circumference:  43 cm (26th percentile)
Words she can say:  Mama, Dada, Hey, Bye Bye

The doctor is really pleased with her progress and her development.  She said she's a little concerned with her weight since at 4 months she was in the 50th percentile for weight and weighed 13.6 pounds, so she hasn't gained very much at all in 4 months.  She said since I just switched her formula and she's made such a turn around, that she wont get too excited about her weight until she sees what it is in a month or so.

She agreed with me that it was probably a milk allergy the whole time and she's pleased that all of Ticky-Boo's health issues have cleared up.  She said that there's a possibility that she'll outgrow it once she starts regular milk and is off formula, but once I told her that yogurt and cheese do the same thing to her that the regular formula did, she seemed less sure that she'd outgrow it.  I personally think this is something that we're in for for the long haul, but The Husband is lactose intolerant, so I am pretty used to accommodating.  It definitely sucks that as a huge milk lover, I'm now outnumbered in my house 2-1 with the milk allergy thing.  Oh well, I'll just continue to buy different types of milk... I just cant switch to the fake stuff.  And even if she doesn't outgrow it completely, maybe she'll at least become more tolerant to some types of milk products.  Only time will tell.

She had 3 shots today and did pretty well.  She did have a meltdown of pretty epic proportions, but she calmed down as soon as I picked her up!  So far she's done pretty well this afternoon.  Tonight she seems a little peaked, but I'm hoping she'll sleep good tonight and feel better in the morning.

While we were in her appointment, The Husband called and finally, after quite a few phone calls, Ticky-Boo actually "talked" to him instead of clamming up completely!!!  She'll go around all day saying "dadadadada" but the minute he calls, she shuts up completely!  But today, he finally got to hear her say Daddy!  I was so happy (and I know he was too)!

I have to say, technology today is amazing.  I cant imagine if this were 30 or 40 years ago and he was deployed.  When my dad was in the Navy back in the 70's, my grandparents were lucky to get a handful of phone calls an entire deployment!  Now, we get phone calls and emails and we've even gotten to skype from the different ports they've pulled into!  It definitely makes it easier... on everyone!

Monday, February 20, 2012


The other question I get asked a lot is whether or not we're going to start trying to get pregnant again to give Ticky a sibling.  The answer is no.  Both the husband and myself want nothing to do with trying to get pregnant.  Or even getting pregnant spontaneously.  I really and truly feel that I was not ever meant to carry a child and deliver it.  I just dont.  I've felt that for some time.  I had started to have twinges of that feeling leading up to the IVF, but pushed it away in the name of hope and trudged on.  Once the IVF failed, that niggling feeling that it just wasn't meant to be kept coming back.  After the next miscarriage, it came to the foreground and I started to listen.  Everyone told me it was just grief and that I'd be okay and we'd have a baby, but I knew deep down that they were wrong.  I dont know why I feel that way, but I do.  It just is what it is.

And I'm okay with that.  We spent 5 years trying to get pregnant.  5 years.  That is a HUGE chunk of time.  Hell, we've been married for only 6 1/2, so we've spent more of our marriage trying to start a family than not.  I want nothing to do with infertility.  With the doctors and nurses.  The testing, the blood work, the internal ultrasounds (I lost count after 30 of them), the waiting and wishing and hoping and praying only to be disappointed.  I want nothing to do with the hurt and anger and grief.  We've been there and done that.  And like I said, it was worth it for Ticky-boo, but I dont want to go through it again.

We have 2 embryo's chilling out at the Bourn Clinic in Cambridge and their rent is due this April.  We're not going to pay it.  We're going to donate our two remaining embryo's to medical research in the hopes that they can help find answers for something.

There's a blog I read, its actually the only infertility blog I still keep up with, its called Single Infertile Female.  I dont remember how I found her blog, I just remember stumbling across it and becoming completely intrigued and genuinely interested in her story.  She is a fabulous writer!  Well, she wrote a post a couple of days ago about how her view of IVF has changed.  Her opinion is not one that is very welcome one in the infertility community, but it is an opinion that needs to be shared and heard out.

When you're in the middle of the storm... when you're knee deep in all the treatments and the emotions of it all, you cant see that there might be another side to it.  That there might be a negative to it all.  All you see is what you want... the end result you hope that you'll get.  And in trying to achieve that end result you will defend every decision, every shot or medicine you take to the very end, no matter what.  But once you're through the storm and on the other side, you can see a bigger picture.  You can see what the drugs did to you.

You can see the physical changes made to your body... its 2 years later and I am still carrying around extra weight from the hormones I injected into my body... of course, I'm also carrying around cheeseburger weight, but whatever.  I carry 2 scars from an exploratory laparoscopy and I even had to cut my hair off to get rid of the "hormone hair" that grew during our treatment... it was completely different than my normal hair (and yes I realize all those things are not life altering changes, but they ARE changes all the same).  And lets face it, we have no idea what physical changes can still take place because of all those drugs.

Along with the physical changes come a hefty load of emotional changes.  Just because we're not going through more treatment does not mean we're not still infertile.  Just because we're on the other side and we have our take home baby doesn't mean we dont still hurt from everything we went through.  I still deal with infertility and recurrent miscarriages on a regular basis.  It may not be day to day or even with the flow of my cycle, but I fight with the repercussions of that hell.

Last year, I spent a few weeks in California visiting a couple of my best friends.  One of them was pregnant at the time and had just hit, I think, 18 weeks, and wanted to go for a 3D ultrasound to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl.  I went with her and the moment we stepped foot into the office, I felt my blood pressure sky rocket and my nerves were shot.  I was absolutely terrified that we would walk into the ultrasound room and they would start the scan and find out the baby was dead.  How fucked up is that?  That is NOT a normal reaction to a 3D ultrasound to find out the sex of a perfectly healthy baby whose mother had had a perfectly healthy pregnancy.  I knew in that moment just how messed up I was and realized that we needed to stop what we were doing and heal.  And we did.  We thew in the proverbial towel and took a step back.  We spent a few weeks really talking everything over, I got on birth control and the ultimate plan was to take at the very least, a year, off and then reassess and decide what to do.  In my own mind, I had reconciled myself to living a childless life.  I had decided that I couldn't do the infertility "thing" any more.  I just couldn't.  And a couple of months later we got the call about Ticky-Boo (we plan and God laughs...lol).

And even though its been an entire year since I last took a Clomid pill or went in for an ultrasound to check for follicle growth and its been almost 2 years since IVF, I'm still messed up.  One of my best friends is pregnant with their first child and even though she is almost out of her first trimester, I am still counting down til she hits viability week.  I am still so scared for them that something awful will happen.  They went in for their first ultrasound and I bit off every nail in anticipation and worry until I heard from them that everything looked perfect.  Seriously.  I love them both so much, but dont want to be around them because I'm afraid I'll "rub off" on them and they'll lose their baby.  NOT NORMAL.  And yes, I know that that sounds completely stupid and crazy and rationally, I know that that is not a possibility, but infertility and miscarriages have stripped away a piece of my sanity.  They've stolen a part of me and replaced it with this insane worry wart freak who thinks everyone is going to have infertility or have a miscarriage.  Again, I reiterate... Not Normal.

Here we are, almost a year after our conversation to cease all treatment and give up on the baby thing and while, yes, we do have a child, I still stand by our conversation and my ultimate decision.  I do not, in any way, shape, or form, want to pursue having another child.  To me, its just not worth it anymore.  I dont see the point.  I feel fulfilled by Ticky-Boo and I can say that I dont need a biological child to feel like a mother.  I reached the point where enough was enough and I dont ever want to go back there. Even if we didn't have her, I wouldn't do it anymore.  I've said before that everything... the whole process changed me.  Some for the better, but some for the worse... the worse, the losing a part of myself, that isn't worth it to me.  And I know it sounds crazy and I'm sure a lot of people would disagree and say that once the baby is older, I'll change my mind, and while I have learned to never say never, I feel secure enough in my decision to say never again to IVF or any infertility treatment.  I cant.  I wont.  We gave five years to it all.  There's no need to give any more time or any more of myself.

The crazy thing in all that is that I feel like I will always have to defend our decision to not pursue more children.  I feel like people will think we didn't try hard enough and go through enough to really say we gave it a go.  And I shouldn't feel like that.  I've asked before when is enough, enough?  Is it one miscarriage or ten?  Is it one round of IVF or six?  When is enough, enough?  How far would we have had to go before I felt like I didn't need to defend my wanting to stop?  How much more would we have had to endure?

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Is it everything I wanted?

Since adopting Ticky-boo, I've had multiple people ask me (especially in recent months):  "Well, is motherhood everything you wanted it to be?"  And I can quite honestly say no.  Its not.  At all.

Its more.

Its better.

Its more rewarding than I ever thought possible... and that, my friends, is coming from a woman with an almost-8 month old baby who refuses to sleep.  Even though I can honestly say that I am officially sleep deprived and exhausted... I love it!  I absolutely love it.  Sure, there are moments when I'm elbow deep in poop... or more like, elbow deep in trying to help the poor constipated baby actually poop, that I just kind of thing to myself, "Oh dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?"  And I'm sure there are going to be many moments like that.  But, for the most part, I can safely say that finally becoming a mother is incredible.  Ticky makes everything totally and completely worth it.  All the shit we went through to end up here was worth it.

I realize that its easy for me to say that now.  I'm on the other side.  I can look back and see all along why things happened the way they did and it all makes total sense to me now.  But, like I said, I'm on the other side.  When I was there, in the thick of it, crying my eyes out and losing myself, I couldn't say that it would be worth it.  The pain was too much to even see past it.  But, somehow, we made it and we're on the other side.  And it was worth it.  I would go through it all again... I would walk through Hell again, to get Ticky.  To see her smile at me.  Or reach for ME, her mama, to pick her up.  To hear her say "Mama" in that sing song-y sweet voice of hers.  I would go through all that hell again for her.  And I hope to spend the rest of my life showing her that.

I think she is amazing!  Her big, gummy smile is probably my favorite thing on Earth.  Or maybe its her now giving kisses when you ask... that's pretty awesome too!  The Husband and I have pretty much decided that we're screwed.  We both are just suckers for her and while we both know that she is going to have to be told no... we both know that that girl has a smile that would melt an iceberg.

One thing I have really learned in the past almost 8 months is to listen to your gut.  I was able to breastfeed Ticky-boo for the first month of her life... not exclusively (because I was told by her pediatrician that as an adoptive mom there was no way I would ever be able to breast feed her exclusively), but it was the main, or at the very least, half of what she took in, before my milk dried up.  Very soon after she switched completely to formula she had quite a few problems crop up.  She became chronically constipated to the point where she almost always had to have help going to the bathroom (enter a thermometer and a big ol' tub of vaseline) despite the doctor giving her stool softeners.  I finally started her on juice and that seemed to help a little bit, but she was still constipated.  She also developed acid reflux.  She was put on medication to help it and it did help, but she still suffered from really bad bouts of reflux that even the medicine wouldn't touch.

The entire time I kept asking the doctor if she thought it might be her milk.  That ever since I had switched her to exclusively formula, she had had these problems.  The doctor informed me on multiple occasions that a milk allergy is rare in infants and that it was all unrelated.  I listened.  I mean, after all, she was the pediatrician, not me.  Right?

Three different types of formula, about six different brands of bottles, and a LOT of fighting and trying to just coax her to eat, and she was still constipated and still dealing with reflux.

She also stopped sleeping.  And I mean stopped sleeping.  She would wake up 5-6 times a night screaming and crying.  And she used to sleep!  When she was tiny, she'd wake up to eat twice a night and then when she was about 10 weeks old, she slept through the night.  That stopped when she hit 4 months old and its only gotten worse.

She also had another problem develop where her little cheeks would turn red during the day.  We'd wake up in the morning and they'd be perfectly fine, but by the end of the day, they would be bright red and scratchy like sand paper and they'd be really hot to the touch.  We went to see another pediatrician after we moved to VA and she told us it was dermatitis, again dismissing my thought that it was her milk, and prescribing her even more medicine (hydrocortisone cream) for her face.  Three weeks on the face cream and the rash still kept coming back the way it always had.  I finally said enough is enough and bought her the uber expensive, hypoallergenic lactose-free and soy-free formula.  I figured, if it didn't work, I'd only be out $30 and I could at least tell her new pediatrician what we'd tried.

Twenty four hours on the new formula and her face hadn't turned even a little pink!  She slept better that first night than she had in months!  We're now going on 4 days of the new formula and I can tell a huge difference.  She is eating more (she's always been difficult to feed and she's very rarely gone over the absolute minimum amount of ounces she should be having per day) and she's pooping normally!  Its too early to call a victory, but I think we're pretty close to calling this one.  I realize now that I should have gone with my gut from the beginning and pushed the issue.

I realize now that I also should have pushed the breast feeding issue and stood up for me and my boobs.  I have always wanted to nurse a baby and I did a lot of research into adoptive nursing and had the support and drive to do it.  When her pediatrician told us that we had no choice but to feed her formula or she wouldn't gain weight (after being completely shocked at even the idea of my breastfeeding her), it scared us into giving her formula.  I think that that was the reason my milk dried up.  I never had a chance to really get a good supply established... not a good enough one to be able to keep up and get off the medication and herbs I was taking (Domperidone, Fenugreek, and Blessed Thistle).  I really feel like if we'd had her pediatrician's support, I could have done it.  I've even toyed with the idea of trying to relactate, but with Ticky-boo's possible allergy to milk, now that she's finally doing better, I dont know if I want to risk more problems in the name of breastfeeding.

So yeah, that's my little rant/motivational what-have-you for the day... I think that medical professionals are there for a reason, obviously, but I also feel like I know my child and myself better than a doctor who sees her once every 2-3 months and I realize now that its my job to be her advocate with doctors and nurses and fight for what I know is best for her.

Friday, February 17, 2012

In a Nutshell

When you first make the decision to start a family, you never dream of difficulty getting pregnant. People do it all the time. They just have sex and wind up pregnant. You think, it cant be that hard, can it? I mean, teenagers can do it, drunk or high people can do it... surely a happily married 20-something couple should be able to do it, right? Wrong. Well, wrong in our case, anyway.

About 6 years ago The Husband and I lay in bed talking before we fell asleep. We'd recently had a long discussion with our good friends, about getting pregnant before the guys left on a deployment; whether it was worth it for them to miss a pregnancy or even the first months of a child's life, etc. All the things military families have to take into consideration when they decide to start a family. I'd also just been home a few weeks before and had seen one of my best friends' son, who was about 3 at the time maybe, and had baby fever like you wouldn't believe. We weighed the pro's and con's and finally decided, "What the hell" and decided that April would be my last month on birth control and May 2006 would be the start of us actually trying to have a baby.

I had everything planned out; we'd be pregnant within the first month or two and that would make me far enough along when we went home for Christmas that year that I'd show and maybe even be able to have a baby shower! Except, by the time Christmas rolled around that year, we were almost 8 months into trying to get pregnant and weren't anywhere close to being pregnant.

Finally, on February 13th 2007, I took a test and a second line came up. We were pregnant. Our euphoria was short lived, however, as that first pregnancy ended in a chemical pregnancy. With the love and support of our friends and family, we picked ourselves up, dusted off and kept moving forward. Being pregnant for a few weeks only made us realize how ready we were to be parents.

Eight months went by and Deployment number 2 came and went and we were back on the trying to get pregnant wagon. By this time, it had been over 2 years since that fateful conversation in bed and we knew that it was probably time to get doctors involved. We tried on our own again after deployment for a few months and finally started looking into getting tested in September of 2008. The Husband had 2 semen analysis' (we were told his results were "Excellent" and "Border-line Excellent" and there was no problem with him), I had TONS of blood work drawn, an HSG (Hysterisalpingogram--where they injected dye into my tubes and uterus to make sure there were no blockages) and we were told everything looked great with me so far. I had always had regular periods, which tends to mean that there are no ovulation problems. Before we could finish up testing on me, we moved to England. Still not pregnant.

We got settled in England and I went in to see the military nurse practitioner for my yearly girly appointment and for a follow up on all our Fertility testing in San Diego. The nurse practitioner took one look at my chart and said she thought there was a problem with The Husband's... spunk, so she sent him for 2 more Semen Analysis' and made us an appointment with the Urologist at the Military Hospital, and had them run a diagnostic ultrasound on me (which came back clear). The appointment with the urologist did not go so well. He told us that the results were horrible and that if he had to put a number on it, he'd give us less than a 5% chance to get pregnant on our own and IVF was our only option. Needless to say, we were shocked. We were told everything was great by the Urologist in San Diego and now we were being told everything was horrible and there was basically no chance of us conceiving on our own.

As shocked and upset as we were, I have to be completely honest with you, I was a little relived. We'd spent the last 3 years of our lives trying to get pregnant and with everyone around us telling us to relax, not think about it, that stressing out was our only problem. So, it was nice (as crazy as that sounds) to know that it wasn't all in our heads... that there was actually something of a challenge there.

We spent the next few months trying to wrap our minds around what to do. The Husband did not take the news well and it took him a while to accept it. We did research, talked over our options, and finally made an appointment with the Bourn Clinic to attend one of their open houses in September 2009. We got answers to our questions and made an appointment for a consultation.

We went for our consultation, had more tests done, made the decision to donate eggs, and began our IVF journey. January of 2010 brought us to that journey.  Birth Control pills, nasal sprays, injections, multiple trans-vaginal ultrasounds, mood swings, sore boobs, exhaustion, bloating, an invasive egg collection procedure, a nail biting wait as we waited for the news of whether or not our embryo's divided or not, an embryo transfer, a LONG 2 week wait, positive pregnancy tests, great HCG numbers, and then the news of a blighted ovum and we were back at square one.

A few months after the IVF pregnancy we spontaneously conceived.  I attribute that pregnancy to a bottle of wine and an old Jewish tradition of eating Pomegranate seeds in between Rosh Hoshannah and Yom Kippur.  Seven Weeks into the pregnancy, I started bleeding.  We went to the OB expecting the worst, but were shocked by the fact that there was a heartbeat and a normally growing pregnancy in my uterus.  Two and a half weeks later I was being prepped for a D&C to remove yet another failed pregnancy when a third ultrasound showed no heartbeat and no further development. 

Countless blood tests and two rounds of high dose clomid (hoping that 2 spontaneous pregnancies in our history meant something good) found us with no pregnancy and no answers... only heart ache and the new found knowledge that it wasn't just male factor infertility, I myself had unexplained infertility.  One month shy of 5 years of dealing with infertility and recurrent miscarriage, we finally threw in the towel.  Frustrated, angry, hurt, and emotionally tapped out, we decided that a childless life would be okay.  That we could be happy traveling the world and not having children.  Oh, but God had other plans. 

On May 19th, 2011 we received a phone call that changed our lives!  A girl I had worked with in the past was pregnant with a baby she knew she couldn't keep.  She asked The Husband and I if we would adopt her baby.  Completely blindsided, terrified out of our minds, but ecstatic just the same, we of course said yes and started the adoption paperwork. 

On June 22nd, The Husband and I stood in a delivery room ready to welcome our  very long awaited daughter into the world.  I was actually able to deliver the baby... once her head was out and the midwife had her suctioned out, my hands were placed on her and I brought our miracle into the world.  In that moment, the world stopped spinning for a moment and it was just the three of us in the room... we finally became a family in that moment.  It was truly the defining moment in my life.  Suddenly everything made sense.  And suddenly, I saw the big picture that God had planned the whole time.  

A Welcome Return

For months now I have contemplated making a return to the blogging world.  I have missed not only the creative outlet that writing awards, but the emotional outlet as well.  So, here we are.  Revelations of an Infertile Mom.

My goal for this blog, this space, is to continue to do what I've always done with my blog... to be open and honest and raw and real about my feelings and emotions and what's going on in my life.  We may not be trying to conceive any longer, but there is a part of me that will forever be infertile.  I identify with that part of myself; after all, I spent nearly 5 years trying to get pregnant.

Being infertile doesn't completely define me though.  I'm also a mom.  Through the adoption of our amazing daughter, I finally became a mom.

I'm also a military wife with a husband who is currently out floating around in the ocean somewhere and so I'm filling both the role of Mommy and Daddy while he's deployed.

My hope and my wish for you reading this is that you dont feel alone.  Life is not all lollipops and sunshine, and while I'll try my hardest not to be too dark and twisty at times, I think its during those crappy times that we all need a hand to hold and a realization that someone else is there.  So yes, I'll be lollipops and sunshine on the days that deserve it but I'll be dark and twisty on the days that call for it... but I'll always be truthful and real and hopefully somewhat entertaining.