That look.

I've been thinking about this post for two weeks now. I'm still not sure I can really get the words out in the right order to convey my feelings.

I was in the elevator on my way to my doctor's office. I was alone since R was parking. I'm really up on these days as it's my one outing into the vertical world...so I have a slight spring in my step and a smile on my face ear to ear. I hit the button for the 9th floor. The elevator was half full. We stopped on floor two and a woman gets on. She's in a white lab coat. She looks at my belly and I see her face drop. It's the look. At first I thought I was imagining it...but then I studied the furrowed brow and the tapping fingers and the deep breaths in and out. And well I just knew. I guess it takes an infertile to recognize another. Though in my condition I was certain she had no idea that I UNDERSTOOD what she was feeling. I wanted to grab her and tell her my story and tell her I knew that pain too.

Of course I let her get off on her floor and didn't say anything. This is New York you know. But it has stuck with me. Rolled around in my head and my heart. All these years of feeling that knife in my heart, that knot in my belly, forcing the tears to stay in my eyes until I could be alone...it never occurred to me that I could/would ever be the cause of that pain for someone else. I can't even count the times when I had that look. I'm still in a slight state of disbelief that I am pregnant and that I just might make it through this and bring home a baby in the end. Even when I have moments where I DO believe, the pain is still very close. It's not too far underneath my skin. They say that the scars will heal with time but will not ever completely go away. I believe this is so true.

I think it's so hard for people to understand this pain...unless of course you've been unfortunate enough to experience it yourself. I have read so many blogs where there are posts of despair. That dark dark hole of pain. It's overwhelming and all consuming. It takes over your life and changes who you are and how you look at the world. To someone on the outside of all this I wonder if it just sounds like bitchy bitterness. Get on with it woman. Be thankful for what you DO have. But I get it. There are times when I still feel it. It's morphed a bit with all the added trials...but it's all still tied to that feeling of being not normal. Defective. Lots of therapy has helped with these feelings, though they creep in at moments. Especially while I'm lying in this bed reading my pregnancy book about how a "normal" pregnancy progresses. Hard to see myself in any of it.

And like my girl B says....all those years growing up when we worked so damn hard to NOT BE NORMAL. Yes, come on you remember those bumper stickers that said 'WHY BE NORMAL' with the normal printed upside down.




Who knew that I would grow up and long to be just that. NORMAL.

Happy Anniversary.

3 years ago today I married the man of my dreams.
My very own Prince Charming. He has bravely stepped up to every challenge that has been thrown our way. He has held me up when
I was too weak to stand. He has dried every tear with so much love
and tenderness. Best of all he has made me laugh. Deep belly laughs.
He is my love, my light, my everything.
Happy Anniversary baby. I love you.


Good Day Sunshine.

Passing the time.

R came home last Friday and said, "Come on honey, we're going out on the town!" "haha." I replied flatly. He then proceeded to open the window, make a palette on the roof with blankets and pillows and got me outside! We sat out there drinking beer, mine non-alcoholic of course, damn, and watched the sun set.

Then on Saturday I was feeling a bit blue again...and R brought over the laptop with iTunes open. He had emailed tons of people, some of which he had to do some sluething to find email addresses for, and asked them to pick one song for me to listen to while in bed. I now have a very personal bed rest playlist. It was so overwhelming. The songs are all over the place and that's the best part of it. Some are hilarious and some are very fitting to my situation...'I Like Big Butts' by Sir Mix-a-Lot, Lay, Lady, Lady by Bob Dylan. Mr. Sticking point stepped up and helped R with finding some of the songs. Thanks T! Lots of tears and lots of laughs and it was just what I needed.

I think I might have the BEST husband ev-ah.

My father-in-law is sending little watercolor paintings in the mail. The first one is of their garden, no flowers yet. The caption says "Monday May 8th, The seeds are planted. Now we wait 118 days." I think R learned sweetness from the master.

So the days are ticking along...I'll be 24 weeks on Sunday.
TWENTY FOUR WEEKS!
Can't believe it really. Belly getting big, baby kicking hard.
So far all is well.

p.s. two reasons to rethink that face lift from my morning tv viewing...
Barry Manilow on the Today Show.
Kenny Rogers on Martha Stewart.

p.s.s. wtf was Kenny Rogers doing on Martha Stewart anyway?

Bed Rest. Day ???

I stopped counting! Apparently I stopped posting as well.
Sorry 'bout that. Hope I didn't worry any of you.
I purposely didn't post on Bed Rest. Day E L E V E N. Only because of the lack of love I've had with that number in the last year or so...and then, well, I hit the bed rest blues. Full. On.

I am feeling better. It still sucks to be trapped in this bed. I've had a few visitors and loads of people taking care of me...R and L have been incredible. I have a few girlfriends online I've never met in the flesh that have pulled me out of it too. I guess this is just life, right? I mean up days and down days happen whether you're on strict bed rest or not. I'm trying my best to let it go and stop the bitching. Oh, but it feels so good to bitch sometimes.

The littlest visitors cheer me up the most. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the mommies too. They are my support system and my lifeline to the outside world. But there is something so magical and calming in the laugh of a little one.

G, my goddaughter, was here last weekend for a visit. After reading Angelina Ballerina three or four times she decided my jewelry was the next thing on the agenda. I don't have loads of diamonds and pearls, not my style, though I do love that song. But there is some interesting stuff in there, 'specially if you're three. We went through piece by piece and she tried it all on. There are a few things in there that are Tess & Oliver related. So we talked about them too. She talked about the star tattoos on my wrist, and which one was for Tess and which one was for Oliver. It was very sweet. G's mom is pregnant too. Just a few weeks behind me. G thought "her" baby was a girl and mine would be a boy. She said she thought Sam was the perfect name for my baby. And then she said with a sigh, "I wanted you to have TWINS." I had to have her repeat it again, because I couldn't clearly understand her. And then I did. I surprised myself that I was able to make it through the conversation without crying. But I did. We talked a little bit more and then she said, "Next time you can have twins TaTa." Gave me a kiss and went back to the jewelry. I made it thorugh...wow. It was so sweet. I wish I was a three year old some days.

ETA: G is having a lil' brother. Just found out this past week. She's o-kay with it as long as she can still name him Sally. But the bigger question is...Does that mean I'm having a girl now?