Chubby Cheeks

I can't wait to kiss them. And regardless of what Sugarbear says, I think I see a full head of hair...

Normal Is As Normal Does...

Last weekend I drug my ever-supportive husband to a prepared child-birth class at our hospital. It was a good experience, with some helpful techniques for labor, a bunch of information I already knew about the process, and some good advice about the hospital. Plus, we got a tour of the labor and delivery, as well as the postpartum floor. Sugarbear was a trooper, particularly during the mock labor portion, valiantly coaching me through breathing exercises, giving us something to laugh over later.

It wasn’t until the second day of class that I had this thought of how incredibly weird this whole thing still is for me. One of the reasons I like our hospital is that everything is right there. My OB’s office is in the hospital, as well as any specialist we may require. So, when we were looking for infertility treatment, we decided to go with the ARTS department at the same hospital. There is a rather large ARTS department, taking up almost a whole building on one side of the hospital. (The complete opposite side of the hospital than the several OB practices, I might add… a nice touch.)

I could go on explaining the set-up of the offices, the atmosphere in the ARTS department, but I won’t, as you probably wouldn’t get the nuance unless you’ve been there, done that. For instance, it always struck me as interesting that the ARTS department was also housed alongside the rehab department, as in rehab for spinal cord and brain injuries. I can’t explain why that was interesting, but it seemed to fit.

Anyways, the point of this story is that last weekend we found ourselves on the same side of the building, going through the same doors, for our birthing class as we did for our fertility treatments. It struck me as weird. Or maybe I was just reminded of how life changes in directions we don’t expect. This time last year, I was going to that building on almost a daily basis to get poked and prodded in preparation for what would be a second, obviously unsuccessful attempt at a stimulation cycle. The last time we had been on that side of the building together, we were there for what would be a smashing failure of an IUI. I remember that day because we had gotten very disappointing news from the lab, almost making it futile to go upstairs for the IUI. I remember being so crushed, struggling to be hopeful, hiding tears from my husband in the elevator because I didn’t want him to feel at fault when this one failed too. He held my hand and apologized the whole way up the elevator for something he had no control over. My turn to apologize would come a week later with more of my lab results, so it definitely was a joint effort!

Fast forward to last week… we are going through the same doors, walking by the same offices, I have to use the same bathroom. But, this time, we are going to a classroom to practice labor relaxation techniques with 10 other first-time parents. Weird. I have a very good sized little boy growing inside of me… I feel his rolls and nudges every day. It is undeniable looking at me that I am with child. Yet, I remain part of that other club… I still have a feeling that I don’t belong in this room, that it’s just by some weird fluke that I’m there, that I’m still on the fringe… but, I have to remind myself… to these other people, you are just as normal as they are. To the teachers, you are just another pregnant lady. As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes it’s good to be normal...

Dear Cletus...

Dear Cletus,

I am extremely grateful and blessed to have you sharing my tummy while you grow. I love that it is difficult to tie my shoes, and I am thankful for the indigestion... THAT BEING SAID...

My bladder is not a trampoline. Please try and keep that in mind.

Sincerely,

Mommy


PS- It's about 6 weeks after the fact, but we have confirmed that Cletus is indeed a boy... I will not be posting pictures of said confirmation, as I think it is a little weird to put totally nakey pictures of my child in public, even sono ones... but, we are very excited about our son! But, here is a little peek at his too cute nose...


                                      

No She Didn't...

Yes I did....

Yes, I am the worship pastor's wife who yelled "oh crap!" in the middle of the offertory today.... why?

Because our little church is out in the country, basically in the middle of like, three corn fields. We have a bug problem. Lots of bugs... crickets, beetles, spiders etc.

Also wasps. Great, big, red wasps that tend to get in the door and fly around during the service... one of which decided that it would be a great idea to dive bomb me during the offertory... so, I'm sitting there, minding my own business, when BAM! Something big and buzzy knocks me in the side of the forehead and gets stuck in my hair... I immediately knew what it was, so I did what I normally do in those situations, I jumped up, swatting myself in the head, and yelled. Thank goodness I had enough peace of mind to remember I was in church, thus the only slightly offensive phrase. I am incredibly fearful of things that fly and sting (I was stung as a child:-) Spiders, crickets, bugs in general don't bother me. Live and let live... wasps, on the other hand, and I'm the crazy lady yelling semi-profanities during the offering. 

The funniest part was when one of the deacons got up, came back to where I was sitting, and asked if I would like him to go find the wasp and finish him off...

Good times.

Half-Baked

Proof to my family that there actually is a baby in there... and he/she is just about halfway done...

Cletus

So yes, these are almost 2 months old. Yes, Cletus has just about doubled in size from then. But, I thought I would post them anyway... less than two weeks till the 20 week pics!

Hello World! (I'm still debating Sugarbear that he doesn't actually see six fingers...)

My favorite so far... I love the little piggies and baby tushie!

No, I still cannot believe that this is actually happening... when donkeys fly, remember? Still in awe over here...

Thoughts of an Infertile Pregnant Lady...

Yes, we are those annoying people who are not going to reveal the name of their offspring until he/she is born. Why? Mainly because we don’t want to see the looks on anyone’s face if they don’t like our chosen names. After all it’s hard to say you don’t like a baby’s name once the baby is ACTUALLY named, right? Plus, we like to be a little contrary. We were going to not find out the gender until the birth, but not knowing the names is torture enough for some members of my family. So, for now, we shall call him/her ‘Cletus’… as in “Cletus the Fetus’… no offense to anyone named Cletus, it’s just the only thing we could think of that rhymed with fetus.

To say we are happy about Cletus is definitely an understatement. We are over the moon about Cletus. We wholeheartedly consider Cletus a miracle, given that, as I’ve said before, it was supposed to be medically impossible for us to conceive on our own. Are we the only people who have ever gotten pregnant after being told they couldn’t? No, of course not. But, Cletus is most certainly our little miracle baby. Every good and perfect gift, right? So, we’ve managed to do what 95% of people are able to do, and are in fact, with child. So, the whole infertility thing is over, right? We’ve accomplished our goal. We are no longer in the ‘IF” club, right? Big ol’ wrong!

No matter how many children we have, biological or otherwise, the label will still be attached, and it colors everything. Everyone’s experience is different. Everyone has a different take on things. How does it affect me? It means that I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the rug to be pulled out from under me. I can’t describe how incredibly blessed and happy I feel getting to have this experience. Perhaps I took it for granted before I was told that I wasn’t going to be able to do it. But, it’s very strange to mix that feeling of blessed and happy with the feeling that this can’t be really happening.

What is impossible with God? Nothing. But in the deep smothering blanket that is infertility, it is very hard not to become very involved with the science. And according to science, this is supposed to be impossible.

So, what does that look like for me? It looks like me having to force myself to tell my family and friends we are expecting, as I was so terrified that things were going to end badly any day, because it had to be too good to be true. It looks like me absolutely panicking in the middle of Target, like in tears panicking, because my mother wanted to buy me a maternity shirt, just to celebrate. I was 9 weeks along at the time, and the only thought that was going through my head was “I’m only 9 weeks. This is still just a fluke. And then I’ll just be an infertile woman with a maternity shirt”.

Sundays are my favorite day of the week now. Why? Because each Sunday marks a new week in my pregnancy, another week down. Another week I don’t have to worry that this is too good to be true. It’s hard to reconcile that feeling with the intense joy I feel. Very strange indeed.

I know every woman has anxiety associated with pregnancy. Every pregnant woman has moments where she fears something will go wrong. But to couple that with the thought that technically, it shouldn’t even have happened in the first place, and it adds a whole new level.