So bright I gotta wear shades

Let's switch gears for a second.  Talking too much about how I have a bum uterus can get kind of depressing and it takes my mind off of all the amazing blessings I have in my life.  Namely, this one.

She's pretty amazing.

This awesome hunk o' man isn't so bad either.

My point is, I got a lot going for me and if things stayed just as they are forever, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.  I mean, I'd love for Sofia to have a little brother or sister and if I never had another child, there'd probably always be a longing in my heart, but I'd keep going.  We'd all keep going.

So, let's chat about some cool fun stuff like decorating!  My awesome hunk o' man was quite busy this weekend and I'm oh so grateful to him for it because he fixed up our living room.  You know, when he isn't swamped with work, Drew is actually a pretty handy guy.  He actually knows how to do stuff and this past weekend he put lights in our living room all by himself!  I'm so proud I want to show you pictures of our updated living room.  Wanna see?

This is what it looked like right after we moved in.

Then we painted, bought some new furniture and it started to look a little more like home.

After that, we had a computer desk built and I stained and painted it.
The wires were a mess, but Drew my handy awesome hunk o' husband took care of that.
He ran outlets inside each shelf up top so the wires didn't have to hang down.

There are still a couple of wires, but it's nowhere near as messy as before.
I still need to get some pulls for the doors and decorate the desk area and 
then all the wires will be completely concealed.

That brings us to the entry.

I moved the office cabinet thingy in place of the drawer thingy, but it was huge
and dark and not right for the space.
Plus, I couldn't put it flush against the wall because of the baseboard heat.

So I sold the cabinet to my girlfriend and we make a field trip to Ikea.
That's Drew throwing things at me.
He's so mature.

We bought an Expedit and he and Sofia made short work of putting it together.

He found the studs to safely wall mount it.

Some heavy-duty anchors and heavy-duty drilling,
and it was on the wall.
I have my bookcases!

Finally, I have books in the living room. 
With that and the book wall, our house has a soul again!
I'm not sure if I should add legs or something underneath the bookcase to 
sort of 'ground' it or just leave it blank.
What do you think?

One of these days we're going to have that brown chair reupholstered.
Or sell it.  It's too big for the room but damn if it isn't super comfortable.
It's just that the re-upholstery quotes I've gotten so far are nasty expensive and I'm having trouble pulling the trigger.
So for now, this is how it is.

 THEN!  On Memorial Day, Drew spent the day doing more electrical stuff.
First, he took the ceiling fan down.

It was broken and made the ceiling feel much lower than it was.
I don't have pictures of taking it down because it took the both of us to get it done and
you can imagine what a hole in the ceiling looks like.

Then he did some more sawing and drilling and put recessed lights in the ceiling.
The living room is the only one in the house with no lights; we had to make do with
lamps and such but we'd always wanted more light.

Et voila!
Lights in the ceiling!
Drew did an AMAZING job and I'm so proud of him.
You can even dim them for that sexy mood lighting.
He put a dimmer on the dining room light too because he was on such a roll.

The lights are awesome, my husband is awesome, my kid is awesome, and you know what?  My life is pretty awesome.

We have several other projects on the list and now that Drew isn't traveling as much, we're going to tackle them one by one.  Next up is Sofia's big girl room.

Sofia has had her toddler bed for a week now and it's been pretty cool.

She slept through the night the first few nights, but then she got a cold and 

her sleeping went to shit.  

She's doing well staying in her bed but she can't breathe, poor thing, so she's not sleeping well.  I'm hoping that once she's better she'll go back to normal.

We also want to make the laundry room pretty, I want to properly decorate the guest room and I think the time has come to paint the bedroom.

The greeny gold is nice, but we're feeling like we need to make our room more grown-up.

I'm not really sure what this means and why that means we need to paint, 

or where we're going to end up but it should be fun.

So, that's what going on over here.  As you can see, I'm trying to keep myself occupied and keep my mind off of the whole baby business.  I see my doctor this afternoon and hopefully we can work together and make a plan.  In the meantime, I'm gonna decorate the crap out of this house and it's going to be great.  Positive thinking is a real thing and it really works and like they say, I'm too blessed to be stressed.

As a matter of fact, I think it's a great day to take Sofia to the park.  There's not too much that some time on the swings can't solve.

This kid.

This kid right here.

She makes the future bright.

Limbo lower now

So here we are: Miscarriage Number 4.  

God, this sucks.

We were in Charlotte when it happened.  Drew had a work thing and since his brother and wife live down there and they're Sofia's godparents, we decided to make a family trip of it.  We drove down Thursday night and arrived early Friday morning.  As usual, Sofia was an amazing traveler and slept most of the way there and went right to sleep once we arrived at the hotel.

This is the cutest crib setup we've ever gotten!

And sadly, it's our last.  Sofia is too big for a crib now

and she'll be getting her own bed on our next trip.

Friday, we met up with Nate and Julie and had a great time with them.  We didn't tell them I was pregnant - I'm really not sure why, but I'm glad we didn't because we would've had to turn right around and tell them that I wasn't.

Because 6:30 Saturday morning, I stopped being pregnant.  No one was awake, but I went to the bathroom because I could feel the wetness, and there it was.

I cleaned up and crawled back in bed.  I nudged Drew.  "Babe, I'm bleeding."  

He stirred, rolled over and hugged me.  "I'm so sorry."  "Me too."

When we woke up, he said I should call the doctor and at least let them know.  I didn't really see the point.  I mean, it's a miscarriage.  The blood isn't so much it's scary, it can wait until we get back in town.  But, I went ahead and called.  Surprisingly, my doctor, Dr. Sweetnerd, was the one on call.

We talked and he assured me that he was going to scour my chart and we were going to get to the bottom of this.  He said the regular stuff - if the bleeding gets worse, go to the hospital, call when you get back in town for your appointment, take care of yourself.  And that was that.

We got dressed and took Sofia to a kid's museum.

......................

I was 5w2d.  There was no gestational sac this time - there weren't even an alarming number of clots and the bleeding has pretty much stopped.  

I also haven't cried - I'm not sure why.  I think it's because I just feel numb.  No, not numb.  Bewildered.  Yeah, that's the word.  I really thought this one was going to be it.  I had such a good feeling about everything.  You know me, I never would have shared the news that early, but I was just so sure about this one.  I just knew that this was going to work and to see that blood wasn't even a shock.  I was just like, whaaaat?  Nooo.  But in the bewildered way, not in the pit-of-despair way.  I couldn't believe I was actually having a miscarriage.

But I was, and I did.

I have a clotting disorder that causes my miscarriages, and with each subsequent pregnancy, it gets more efficient.  Think of it like a limbo bar.

It'll make sense in a minute, I promise.

So here I am, bopping along, trying to get pregnant, not knowing that it's not going to be easy for me.  I walk on up to the limbo bar and I don't know that you have to go under the bar to stay in the game.  I walk on up like a regular person and smack!  Hit the bar, you're out.  First miscarriage.

And as the rules follow, the bar gets a little lower.  I don't have it figured out yet and I still walk up like a regular person.  Smack!  Hit the bar, you're out.  Second miscarriage.

The bar lowers.  I go see doctors.  They tell me what's up - I need to go under the bar if I want to stay in the game.  They give me the Heparin.  I go under the bar - I have my baby.

Okay, I've got it figured out now.  Go under the bar, got it.  Unfortunately, the bar lowers while I'm trying to sneak under it.  I'm too late - smack!  Third miscarriage.

This time, I thought I had everything right; I was ready.  I did my yoga, I was bendy and I was ready to go under that bar and come out with a baby.

Until they went and set the damn bar on fire.

Fourth miscarriage.

Each time I get pregnant, the bar lowers.  Eventually, I won't be able to get under it and my opportunity for having babies will be closed.  Right now, we're just trying to figure out just how low the bar is and just how much bending I'm going to have to do to get under it so I can have my baby.  Dr. Sweetnerd is talking about doing the Heparin at ovulation instead of at the positive pregnancy test, because that might be too late.  This also means charting and taking my temperature so I know as close as possible when exactly I ovulate.  This will also help to determine if there are any other factors that are making the bar drop faster than it should, like an LH defect or anything else.

I hope it's not already too late.  I hope the bar isn't already so low that I can't get under it.

I do yoga, but I'm an old broad.

I'm not this flexible.

source

6:30 Saturday morning

Bright red blood with clots. We're on vacation. 

That's four miscarriages now; I'm just rackin' 'em up. 

Will write more later; I really thought this one was going to be it. I really don't know where to go from here and what this means...

Early pregnancy sucks

I hate everything right now.

Cramping is a common symptom in early pregnancy.  It means the embryo is moving in, hammering nails, hanging pictures, shoving furniture against the wall, getting cozy.

It's also a sign of miscarriage.

Spotting is also common.  It's just old blood and nothing to be worried about.

Unless you know, you're about to have a miscarriage.

Progesterone suppositories can mildly irritate the cervix, causing spotting.

So can a miscarriage.

.......................................................

I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.  I should have waited to say anything because I'm not that person who gets to have normal worry-free pregnancies.

Then again, maybe I am.  I don't know, and that's why early pregnancy sucks giant hairy donkey balls.

I'm fucking having brown discharge.  Typing that is way way too much information and I apologize, but I couldn't think of an appropriate euphemism and I just want to type right now.

This afternoon it was super light and watery, pale and nothing to really be worried about, except I don't want to see anything on my liner, normal or not.  I want it to be just a plain liner, that's it.  I got the positive test on Thursday and had some light cramping on Saturday.  I thought that was weird because I usually cramp before I get a positive test, but even though I've been pregnant before, each pregnancy is unique.

I've also had two miscarriages that started with brown discharge, but I wasn't on Heparin for the first one, and I didn't start Heparin for the second one until 11 days after my missed period, assuming a 28-day cycle, which I really couldn't because I was still nursing and my cycles were all over the place.  But with that pregnancy, I knew in my gut that it was probably too late.

This time, I'm not nursing, I tested the day before I was due to have my period and I did my shot within seconds of getting a positive test.  This time, I did everything right and it was perfect.  It was just in time for Mother's Day and I felt so good about everything.  I just knew this one was going to work.

And then I have to go and start having fucking discharge.  It's not enough to even call it spotting, but I don't want to see anything.  I don't want anything coming out of there until January 16th, and then I want it to be a full-term baby.  That's the only thing that has permission to come out of my vagina.

But my asshole uterus does not appear to have gotten that memo and I'm pissed.  I did everything I could.  I couldn't have started the shots any sooner.  Well I guess I could, but if you start them before you're actually pregnant you run the risk of thinning out your uterine lining to the point that an embryo can't attach.  

I feel helpless - there's nothing more I can do.  I'm doing the shots, I'm on the suppositories, I'm taking the pills, but if my body isn't going to hold this pregnancy, there's nothing I can do about it.

I feel angry - my body is taunting me with this discharge.  If I'm going to fucking miscarry, just fucking get on with it.  Bleed or don't bleed asshole.  Quit fucking around with this discharge bullshit.  But actually, don't bleed.  Stop all activity right now and let me grow this baby.  Get out of the fucking way and let me have my little soul.  I mean it.

If there's even anything in there.  It could be another blighted ovum for all I know, which is another reason early pregnancy sucks.  Even if I got an ultrasound right now, they wouldn't be able to see anything definitively because I won't even be five weeks until Thursday.  That's way too early to make that kind of call.  

So I have to just sit here and wait, helpless and angry, waiting for my body to make up its fucking mind and do whatever it's going to fucking do.

This part sucks.

Best Mother's Day EVER

For Mother's Day this year, the only thing I wanted was time.  As in, time to myself.  Specifically, I wanted to go shopping by myself.  My jeans were feeling a little too tight and too low cut and I figured it was time to get a more grown-up pair.  You know, a pair where my belly fat and ass crack were properly contained.  

However, as everyone knows, buying a pair of jeans is not as easy as just going to the store and buying a pair that fits.  You have to try on millions of pairs to find the One Pair, and that is not something you can do with a toddler.

While Sofia was in school on Thursday, I went to Goodwill to get started.

I was shocked to find Paige, Banana Republic, American Eagle, Express and Gap, all for six bucks!  I tried them all on and determined that Gap and Express had the rise I was looking for, and I would have bought them at Goodwill but the pockets were too embellished for my taste.

Drew said he'd watch Sofia on Saturday and I could have the day to myself, shopping and being leisurely and whatnot.  It was going to be great and I was looking forward to my 'me day.'

In preparation for my 'me day', Friday night I went to the basement to pull my summer clothes out of the bins.  I was going to see what I had and buy what I needed to round out my summer wardrobe, since it's finally getting warm here!

And since we're in the basement, I owe you a playroom update.

Remember this picture? This was pre-awning but this is more about the layout.

At Sofia's birthday party, everyone sat on the floor on that side of the basement 

because no one has kids that are old enough to entertain themselves.

Duh - why didn't that occur to me?

So we opened everything up, so people could sit on the sofas and still see their kids

instead of having their backs to their babies.

It's much better this way.

Sofia got a tricycle from Drew's parents for her birthday 
and now that there's open space, she can ride it around.  
Once her feet can reach the pedals - a couple more months and she'll be golden.

Anyway, I crossed through the playroom to the other side of the basement to the junk side.  It's the catch-all side that holds all the rest of the stuff that we haven't gotten to yet, but one day we will, as soon as they make more than 24 hours in a day and more than two days in a weekend.

I turned on the light and made my way over to the bins that had my summer clothes.  *walk walk walk splish*

I stepped in water.

There was WATER in our BASEMENT.  There were BOXES sitting in WATER.

Drew was next door at the neighbors and I texted him to come home.  Thank God Sofia was asleep, because we spent the next four hours opening all the boxes, pulling out all the books - that got the most water damaged, go figure - and spreading everything out in the playroom.

You know what this is?  

This is my Me Day, floating away.
It turns out the gutters were clogged and we had several rainy days in a row that caused the basement to flood.  We're trying to figure out if this is going to be a major structural expensive repair situation or if we just need to be more vigilant with with gutters.
And by we, I mean Drew.  I don't do outside, roof-type stuff.

We had to move everything to the playroom, which was undamaged thank God.

So, instead of going shopping all day Saturday, we spent the day at Lowe's buying shelving units, unpacking boxes, throwing things away, mopping the floor and trying to put some order to the junky part of the basement.  And honestly, I'm not really complaining because it was fun to unpack the boxes and be all Oh so that's where that was! I've been looking for that!  And you know I do love a good organizing session.  

In addition to our basement being torn up, Maya is getting a new home too.

When we moved in, Drew built this pen for Maya.

We were going to bury an invisible fence around our property, but I wasn't keen on picking up half an acre's worth of dog poop.  Plus, Sofia is at the age where 
we need to get a swing set and sand box and stuff like that.  
The backyard needs to be her playground, not Maya's bathroom.

However, her doggie door is in the laundry room which is next to the kitchen, and on

rainy days, my entire house was nothing but muddy paw prints.

One too many days like that and something had to be done.

So, on Friday the contractors came and they're ripping up all the grass and putting in artificial turf and decking so Maya will have her very own luxury suite and I won't have mud in my house anymore.

This means that Maya can't go outside until Wednesday so we've had to put her on a leash to take her to the bathroom.  She is not used to that and doesn't like it, so it takes forever to get her to pee and poop.  Good times.

Additionally, we ran out of dog food on Friday so I went to the store to get some more, only to find that her brand had been recalled.  We had to make do with a comparable brand, which OF COURSE upset the stomach of my delicate flower of a dog.  We spent the weekend cleaning up dog vomit at all hours of the night, poor dog.

That's how my Mother's Day was shaping up - a flooded basement and dog vomit.  It wasn't ideal and Drew knew it, so on Mother's Day, he was like 'Why don't you take the baby to Ikea and go shopping?'

I burned rubber getting out of that driveway.  I was a woman on a mission and I knew exactly what I was going to get.

 Remember the hallway from the house tour?

I got five Ribba picture ledges, did some math, and Drew got to drilling.

Ten minutes later, I had my book wall!

I put the pouf there because I have visions of Sofia sitting there, 

reading and getting smart.

The top couple of shelves are ours, but the bottom ones are all Sofia.

Drew's parents gave us some books the last time we visited, 

and there were some classics in that box.  

Do y'all remember Superfudge? Madeleine L'Engle?

I totally squealed when I unpacked them and put them on the shelves.

I love my book wall so much and it was the perfect Mother's Day present!

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Well, it was the second most perfect Mother's Day present.

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Sofia got a new book to put on her book wall.

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She's studying up for her big test.

It's not until January and I'm sure she'll pass with flying colors.

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BAM.

It's insanely early and I haven't even had an ultrasound yet, but my beta is good and my progesterone is nice and high.  I found out before I even missed my period and did my shot within minutes of taking the test, so I have a good feeling about this one.  I'm claiming this one and I know we're going to have a happy ending.

I guess Dr. Sweetnerd was right - I just needed to stop nursing and my uterus wouldn't be so much of an asshole.  I kinda want my ten vials of blood back.  Yes, ten vials.  I for real almost fainted in his office.

And that, was my Mother's Day 2013.  

It Was Good.

Why I'm glad to be an older mom

I've started and deleted a ton of posts this week because they were all absolute shit.  I was beginning to worry that I'd lost my blogging mojo, but thankfully I was driving home this morning and this post came to mind.  So, in honor of Mother's Day and whenever I get down on myself that I'm sooooo oooollld  I thought I'd remind myself and maybe some other moms about why it's great to a Mom of a Certain Age.

Thing Number One, the absolute most awesome thing about being an older mom:  

The Absence of the Drahmz.

source

I've been reading random mom blogs and I tell you what, the drama is so tiring.  Women judge each other - it's in our DNA.  I swear, if I hear one more mom whine "Can't we all just get along?  We should suppoooooort each other, we're mooooooooommmmms."  Get the fuck outta here.  You put your shit out there, you're going to get judged or supported and the best benefit about being older is that you have the strength to accept it all.  I wish the hell I would care about what someone says about my parenting.  As a near-40 mom, I know I'm doing the best I can and I know my heart is always in the right place and all the rest is just noise. 

Support and positive female energy is vital and I would not be able to get along without my mom friends, and God KNOWS I have boatloads of self-doubt but I promise you, if someone dared to say something to be about the way I parent my daughter, they would get turtle-slapped.

The next most awesome thing about being an older mom:  

Patience

 

When don't you need a picture of Betty White with a gun?

Now, let's be clear - I have patience with my kid.  I'm late everywhere, and I'm okay with that because Sofia is learning how to put on her own shoes.  Her clothes are always dirty because she's learning how to properly hold a spoon and keep the yogurt in the spoon.  She gets her clothes and our furniture dirty, and I just shrug because it's just stuff.  And I really mean that.  As you age, the chances of bad shit happening to you increases because that's just life.  And when really bad shit happens, yogurt on the sofa isn't that major.  Go get a soapy rag and if it comes out, cool.  If not, that means you have kids in your house and that's a blessing.  Embrace your yogurt-covered sofa.  And make her eat at the table until she gets the hang of the spoon thing.

I wasn't always this way and I think being high-drama is a function of youth - I know it was for me.  You never met a more high-drama chick than I was in my 20s.  Just thinking about how I used to be makes me want to punch myself because seriously?  Your stupid boyfriend didn't call you and you have to get in your car and go to the club where you know he'll be and march in like an idiot and drag him out to yell at him outside the club?  REALLY?  And yes, I've done that before and I'm So Effing Thankful that those days are long behind me and will never return.

I still get angry, I still get sad, I still cry and I sure get frustrated when Sofia won't sleep or eat fruit but somehow these things just aren't the life and death situations they could be if I didn't have the perspective that time and maturity gives you.

However, as an older mom, I have zero problems with cutting out the nonsense in my life.

I used to be far more concerned with what people thought of me.  Now that I'm a mom, I'm way more concerned with what my daughter thinks of me.  I'm her role model and I take that job seriously.  I want her to see me being polite, I want her to see me helping strangers, I want her to see me smiling more than I frown.

But make no mistake, she will also see me stand up for myself, she will see me put somebody in their place if they're getting big, and she will know that her mother is not one to suffer fools gladly.  Now, I'm sure there are some 20-year-olds who have their shit together and are self-aware and self-assured and know their place in the world, but I sure didn't when I was 20.  I didn't get the self-confidence to occupy my space until I was in my 30s and most definitely not until I was a mom.  Having Sofia made my purpose on this Earth crystal clear and all the nonsense just fell away.

A great benefit of being older and more self-assured is: 

 I'm secure in my parenting methods.

 I couldn't find one that said my kid, my rules

but you get the idea.

I read the internet all day long for parenting tips.  I ask my mom friends with older kids.  I get advice from every possible outlet, but in the end it's just me and Sofia (Drew too, but you know what I mean.)  And I'm okay with that.  I feel good about the choices I make in raising my daughter and I don't let other people make me feel bad for going right instead of left.  She's my kid, I'm her mom and that's all that matters.  Besides, she's a healthy happy baby kid (she's not a baby anymore, I have to stop saying that) so I must not be messing up that badly.  I still worry about her and I will until I die but bottom line, I'm doing a good job raising my daughter and I'm proud of both of us.

I no longer have any shame about anything.  Trust me, this is a good thing.  When I was younger, you wouldn't catch me dead leaving the house without my hair, makeup and outfit being DONE.  Now?  Psssh.  I'm doing good to leave the house with only one stain on my shirt. I used to get mortified about that stuff, but now I just shrug and get on with my life.  Bodily fluids are the great equalizer.  You can't take yourself seriously when you're covered in baby spit-up/toddler vomit.

But more importantly and more awesomely, I have no shame about asking for and accepting help.  The younger me would be afraid of judgement and sought to keep up appearances at all costs.  Never let 'em see you sweat right?  Now I'm like, oh yeah, I'm one sweaty bitch!  If someone offered me help, I would be like, no it's okay, I've got it.  Now I'm like, Oh my God YES PLEASE!  Help me with EVERYTHING!  And I could give two shits if I get judged.  Talk about my ass all you want - just make sure I never hear it.  Otherwise, I have to turtle slap you.  That's the rules.

Okay, so those are the things that I like best about being an older mom.  Of course, I'm only thinking about my perspective and my story and these things could only apply to just me.  But maybe they don't.  Maybe you're younger than I am and you have your shit together already and you can appreciate these things before 37, unlike me.  Or maybe you like different things about being an older mom.  Or just being a mom in general.

So lay it on me:  In honor of Mother's Day, what the best part about being a mom?  And I'm not talking about the obvious stuff like OMG, I didn't know I could love someone so much.  Duh that.  I'm talking about, are you finally free to walk out of the house in mismatched shoes and you hold your head high because at least you're wearing shoes?