Today

22 on 22

Happy Birthday Kerry Rose. It rained, and I swear the sky was purple. I'm thinking of your Mom and Dad, they loved you so. Your sisters, how amazing. Keep on lookin' on...

Fiji was fun

I was lucky enough to have a tooth pulled last week. And by lucky, I mean cursed to the millionth thousandth degree. Oddly enough, the actual procedure was a piece of cake. Dare I call it a fun experience. I chose to be sedated, which in my dentist's office means they start you off with sweet air, and then pump your veins with magical happy juice that makes you higher than a kite. It was glorious. I supposedly talked about how awesome it was to be cracking beers on the beach in Fiji, because I thought I was there. I don't remember that, or really anything at all, but the whole experience ovrerall was a peice of cake.
But then you wake up. (Okay that's not so bad, because you're still kinda groggy and novicained up). But then you have the one hour drive home. Which is actually two hours because some higher power decided to hate you that day and put construction zones on every single effi'n road you have to drive home. And the big fat suck creeps in. And then BAM! You are in hell.
People, I gave birth to and 8.4 lb baby with a ginormous head and an accompanying arm, without pain meds. I am no stranger to pain (and managing it to a pretty good degree). The pain I experienced after getting my tooth pulled is pretty damn comparable.
Do you know what's more awesome? Yesterday I went back to the dentist and it turns out the very first doctor I saw FORGOT to tell the oral surgeon that I actually needed two teeth to be pulled. FORGOT?!!? Yeah, so I'll be going in for round two on July 25th. I will prepare better for the post tooth-pulling this time around, but in the meantime I have to try to rid my worries with the hopes that I take myself back to Fiji - and actually remember it.

One can hope right?

Opens Heart, Crosses Fingers...

This post has been in the works for quite a while. It’s not groundbreaking, and probably not shocking (and certainly way too long). But for me, it’s a big deal. I don’t share a lot of serious stuff here. I’ve said it before and it couldn’t be more true – I’m pretty guarded. But my favorite blogs are the ones that are real, true and honest. I love to be all up in people’s business and love when they overshare. So it always comes as a shocking afterthought that I myself am not an over sharer. For whatever reason, I find it hard to really show my true self. And I’ve come to realize that’s the truth in real life too. I guess it’s fear of being vulnerable, of being judged, of seeming weak. I don’t really know. But there are so many times when I think to share something, and I hold back because I don’t want anyone to know that it’s been three whole weeks since I’ve cleaned the master bathroom, or that there’s clean unfolded laundry in a basket in my living room from four days ago. Or that M and I recently learned we can go nearly two weeks without talking rather than fight it out. Or that I find myself letting the Goose watch entirely too much TV and haven’t sat down with him and a stack of books in nearly a month.

The point is, I guess my guard is up because I’m always worried of what people will think. And at this point in my life, I have to start letting go. I have to start being real. With myself and with others. It’s scary, and people WILL judge. But I have to accept that and know that it all doesn’t matter. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and will take a long time, I imagine. It’s hard to make yourself open, both to strangers and people you consider close. Some struggle with it more than others, and I’d say I’m at the top of the list of those who struggle.

So this is my first attempt at opening up. I’ve already started out wordy, so let’s get straight to it.

I want another baby.

First, I want to say that besides M and about three people he’s talked about this with, nobody knows. Not my best friends, not my mother (who I happen to tell everything), no one. Goes to show how closed I am (I asked M to not talk about it, but I’m not mad).

Back in September/October, right when I was weaning from nursing, I couldn’t wait to get some freedom back. And by freedom, I mean partying. We had some parties and weddings coming up and I couldn’t wait. I wanted to be free of bodily obligations after about a year of a half of being pregnant and breastfeeding. I was a party girl before I got pregnant, and I did a 180 once I saw that plus sign on the pee-stick, and also through the year of the pumping. I was ready for a break. So I may or may not have had a major freakout when it was just a few days after the Gooses first birthday that I realized I was late. I was genuinely sad. I wasn’t ready, we didn’t plan for this to happen (again - I’ll explain later) and I just couldn’t bear the thought of going to all the parties and weddings pregnant. I waited an extra two days before I tested. I’m pretty sure I was too scared to confirm it.

But the pee-stick was negative. I couldn’t figure it out. It was then that M pointed out to me, “it’s probably the weaning, throwing your body all off”. And I realized he was right. Sure enough, about a week and a half later, it came. And I was genuinely relieved.

But then I started to wonder. How could I be so relieved? Some people pray to get the little plus sign, and here I am genuinely happy I didn’t. Did I really, really, REALLY not want another baby? Did I really want to wait another 9 months before even trying? And my mind told me yes, I needed a break for a while before we entertained the thought of even trying. M and I had talked about this, and I had told him that I wanted to wait until the following summer (aka, by the time your reading this) to try. I felt that I needed time. Oh yeah, and the whole “we-don’t-even-have-a-place-to-put-a-baby” issue, aka, “our-first-kid-lives-in-a-glorified-closet” and “our-upstairs-is-still-an-attic”. Would you like to know M’s response? “I feel like that’s a jinx, planning a baby. Whatever happens, we’d figure out a way”. I knew M would have been happy to hop back on the baby bus so soon, but he could see it my way too. In fact, he saw it my way so good, that he very shortly after hopped on my “let’s wait” team. (He always starts off with such great ideal intentions and I have a lovely way of rocking him back into reality. Aren’t I lovely?)

One wild party, one SERIOUS pukey hangover, and a mere three weeks later, and my whole thought process had changed. Apparently, what I really needed was a reality check. Yes I needed a break, but really, I just needed the realization that life was not what it used to be. Taking time off to enjoy parties only leads to time taking care of a one year old, hungover. And it’s not pretty. And it’s NOT what I want, unlike what I thought. Only three weeks prior, I hadn’t been ready. And here I was changing my mind so quickly. Just like a light switch, I didn’t want a break anymore. A case of déjà vu – let me explain…

Before and right after we got married, everyone started in with the question – “so you’re gonna have kids right away, right?”. And my answer was “No way, we’ll probably wait a few years”. I knew that I was still living the selfish lifestyle, enjoying being with M and our friends. I wasn’t ready (sound familiar). Then we got married. And I still wasn’t ready. (Sidenote – M would’ve  started having kids about the day we laid eyes on eachother, so while that’s sweet, it’s not realistic. He realizes this and always agreed to take it at my pace, as long as it woudln’t take forever)

Then we started looking at houses. And something in me started to change. Every house I looked at I imagine filled with children and babies. I didn’t like certain ones b/c they didn’t seem family appropriate. And as the weeks went on I realized, I WAS ready. I wanted to start our family. I wanted to be done with the partying and drinking. JUST.LIKE.A.LIGHT.SWITCH (again, familiar?). It literally seemed to happen overnight. So when we put in our offer on the house we now call home (November 13^th 2009, to be EXACT), I did so with the hope that babies would come sooner than later. M and I talked, and we decided that around spring/summer of 2010, we’d start trying. I finished up my birth control pills in December and started researching natural “family planning” birth control which involves temperature taking and such. At the end of December I ordered the proper thermometer to do just that. We were on our way.

Come Wednesday January 20^th and I’m due for a period. Didn’t come, no biggie. I knew the first few cycles off BC could be wonky, and this was the first. Come Saturday January 23^rd and I’m due for a girls night out, which involves lots of drinking. Casually, while M and I are food shopping that day, I tell him I need to buy a pregnancy test just to be sure I’m only late. Our “alone time” earlier that month was timed at a weird time, but we didn’t use backup so I just wanted to be sure – I wanted to party with the girls that night.

Or not. Three pink plus signs and two digital “PREGNANT” signs later, we were in awe. We weren’t even technically trying, it happened ONCE, and here we were. I was scared shitless, but happy. I honestly don’t think the reality of it all hit me until about 6 weeks after the Goose was born. Yeah, that long. It was such a shock. So while it wasn’t exactly an “accident”, it kind of was.

Let me reel you back on into current day. Looking back, we were SO LUCKY. We knew it then, but it really hits home now. If you read it correctly a few parahgraphs above, it was around November 2011 when I realized I was ready to get back on the baby bus. By December I was already back on the monitoring I had “planned” to do before we found out about the Goose. M was on board. We were ready to go.

And here we still are. Listen, I KNOW that 6 or 7 months is nowhere near a long time to try for a baby. But I guess I just expected it to happen with the snap of our fingers, just like last time. I never, ever, EVER expected it to hurt so bad to not be pregnant by now. It makes me look back and realize that I never truly appreciated how amazing being pregnant is (and I really loved it the first time around, too). I look back and think of those first few weeks with the Goose and almost wince at how badly I ache to have those back. And I look at the little boy he’s becoming and I cannot wait to go through it all again. On top of it all I just can’t wait to see how the Goose will do as a big brother. I’m so excited for it all, from thinking of a name (we don’t agree on much, which is why the Goose has the same name as his father), to trying to predict if it’s a boy or a girl (unlike the surprise revealing by our ultrasound tech like last time), to seeing our family grow, to literally finding a place to put this child. It’s all crazy and fun and amazing. I and I want it. I want to be pregnant so badly.

So there it is. It took a while to write, because I kept hoping I wouldn’t have to write it. But with our most recent results being a bust, I thought it was time. And it’s a little gratifying, to be able to open up. I’m not writing my heart out or anything, more setting up the scene here, but it’s more than I’ve ever done before. And I’ve revealed a little bit more about myself and our life in general. And this won’t be the end of this topic. Of course, hopefully the topic will change into happy news rather than my aching. And I promise, that if we get those little pink plus signs (well, now it’s two pink lines), you’ll know about it right away. Normally, I would have waited the first trimester out, but in keeping with my goal of opening up and keeping it real, I’m making it a promise to let the news out asap, come what may (well, at least to this blog here).

Happy Friday folks…back to your regularly scheduled light and fluffy material…