"Don't leave any gauze in me! I saw that Dateline!"

"Urgent C-section" was quickly followed by, "stop pushing". Awesome. I think I cried.

Luckily, I didn't have time to cry long. It was as if I was transported to a scene from Mission Impossible because I swear to you, spies disguised in scrubs propelled into the room through doors I didn't even know were there in my full day in this labor and delivery room. Ok, maybe they weren't spies, but the did just suddenly appear, scrubbed and ready for action, at my bedside telling me who they were and how they would assist in this sudden surgical procedure.  If I were capable, I would have made out with the woman who introduced herself as the surgical anesthesiologist who would pump up my epidural to the point I wouldn't feel a thing below my chest...including the pressure of pushing (insert sounds of God opening the golden gates of heaven!). 

My mother later said that I was wheeled by her on the way to the operating room at 3:22 am. Eva's birth minute was 3:25am.  3 minutes vs. 36 hours of previous labor. 

In those 3 minutes, they did whatever they needed to for surgery to prep me. I have no idea. At this point, I checked out. I wasn't scared or anxious about it like I was when I thought about having to have a C-section before having one. I wasn't worried about Eva. She was fine. I was simply and truly exhausted. 

I felt it. Not in a horror movie way, but in a "my foot is dead asleep and you're touching me...somewhere. I can tell, I am just not completely able to locate the point of contact". When they made the first cut, I assume that's what it was, I called out. Not in pain or fear, but in request. "Don't leave any gauze in me! I saw that Dateline!!!" Yup.  That is what I said to them.  At this point, I'm a complete drugged-out, exhausted mess! But I still have my priorities! They giggled and assured me they wouldn't (and they didn't! PHEW!). 

And then suddenly...there she was. 

She was just a blur at first. A tiny little pink thing that they "peek-a-boo"ed over the surgical tarp for me to see and then she was whisked away to the left, to be weighed and stamped and checked and poked and snipped and APGARed. 

Eva Marie Shire. July 17, 2009. 3:25 am. 5 lbs, 8.7 oz, 18.5 inches long. 100% cute.

She cried, but not like she did a few weeks later. Her first cry was more of a question.  It was far from a "WAHHHH".  It was more like, "wooo?". They promised me her lungs were strong and functioning. She was a premie and would grow into her cry around her due date (and oh BOY did she!). 

Matt erupted into such an emotional mess at the sight of our little nugget (she was so little that's what we called her at first; our little baby nugget).  He stood over her as the NICU team did their thing in the operating room while I got sewed back up and he sobbed. Not warm-your-heart, kodak moment sobbed, but the kind of sob that I unfortunately can still picture him as snot absorbed into the crepe surgery mask he was wearing.  "Jane, she's so beautiful. Thank you. Thank you." Could sweeter words come from the father of your baby as she is born after all she put you through? Perfection. 

After 8 bumpy but beautiful months, 36 loooong hours and 3 short minutes "we" were now "three"!

I hate birds. We know this about me. Might I mention that the monitor pole thinger that was connected to me throughout labor chirped like a bird once a minute...was THAT necessary?

18 hours into labor I am getting comfy in my labor and delivery room. By "getting comfy", of course
I mean "getting tortured" while a team of doctors, nurses, my mother, sister and my anxiety-ridden husband standby.

It is still Thursday, July 16 and I have just hit 35 weeks. Full-term is considered 37 weeks gestation even though babies usually hang out until 40 weeks. If you go into labor at any point between 37 and 40+ weeks, doctors are happy to assist you. You can get an epidural when you become painfully uncomfortable. If your labor is progressing slowly, you can walk around to try to move things along. They may even give you Pitocin to speed it up. If you're uncomfortable, you can go crouch in a corner if you so choose.

If you go into labor prior to 37 weeks, none of these things are options. I am preterm so I am pre-medical-intervention. Aside from the director of the NICU coming every few hours to monitor Miss Eva and tell me possible risks to her coming so early, I wasn't given much medical attention because there was nothing they could do for me. They legally and ethically couldn't help my labor along while I was preterm. I understood...but I could have killed each and every one of them.

The NICU doctor was amazing. He reviewed the biophysical information I'd had a few days before and he told me he saw little cause for concern. Eva had been clearly doing her practice breathing so he had reason to believe her lungs were well-developed. He told me about medications they would administer if they weren't. He was very calm, very kind. I may have viewed him differently if I had cause for concern myself. I felt I always knew she'd come early. When I got to the hospital, I took a survey of the energy in the room (I know, I know...call me guru Shire) and tried to determine if it was heavy or light. Did I FEEL like something bad would happen here? Honestly, no I did not. I wasn't worried about my baby. She was strong-willed and capable. She was a fighter and I would be the one she was attacking! I was concerned for my epiduraless-self!

I wasn't allowed to walk around. I wasn't given help to dilate faster. I was told I could get my epidural when my water broke or when I hit 5 cms because there was no going back or pausing at those points. I am not even kidding when I say that I was stuck at 4 cms for 24 hours. With no pain meds and the contractions peaking LITERALLY off the monitor (I have pictures). Not to mention one of my joyous symptoms during labor was "the shakes". I couldn't stop shivering. I wasn't cold. I was simply convulsing...nonstop. Having a baby is a blessing...uh huh...sure it is.

Let me point out that the monitor pole I was attached to chirped like a bird every minute. There are few things I hate more than birds. I asked my doctor what the hell was making that bird noise.  Her response, "It's the pole. Some asshole thought making it chirp was cute...it's not, i know."  One more thing I wanted to make stop!

FINALLY around 8:30 Thursday evening, my sweet Eva took pity on me and broke my water. My lovely nurse, Chrissy, had the anesthesiologist waiting outside my door and the doctor actually came in and said, "Thank the Lord. I couldn't stand to see you like this anymore!". Epidural was administered without a hitch and I felt warm all over. I settled into a sense of calm and started to pay attention to the elimination round of So You Think You Can Dance on the TV, now that I wasn't delirious and knew that yes, her name IS Cat Deely.

I'd say I had about 15 minutes before the pressure started. Any woman who has given birth knows what I am talking about. It's a rectal pressure like you are going to blow your innards out your asshole and a fierce speed. Only, you're not. We call the nurse. Could I already be 10 cms?  Nope...still 5cm. My instructions: DO NOT, under any circumstances, PUSH!

Oh. Ok....suuuuuuuuuuuure.

6.

SIX hours of that pressure, people. I wish I was exaggerating. I really do. Why was it so bad for me? I was one of the lucky few who had the sac refill with water and pool right over my rectum. They couldn't break it for me again because they promised me that if I was able to get to 10 cm with it, when it broke again, Eva would arrive in only a few pushes because she'd ride the wave.  My nurse repeatedly tried to break it for me anyway, having experienced this herself with the birth of her son.  She couldn't do it. Although I no longer had the intense pain of the contractions thanks to good old Epi-dural, this pressure was by far the worst thing I've ever experienced. If I thought I'd have to do it again, Eva would be an only child. During all the hours of labor and full-force contractions before this, I didn't utter a sound. I was silent and breathing, just requiring someone to watch the monitor to tell me when the contraction was easing. When that pressure began with me having to fight the natural urge to push, you could have heard me 3 stories down: "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK".  Matt was panicked for me. "What can I do? Tell me what to do?".  There was nothing.

At about 2:30am, I finally reached 10 cms and they told me to push. NO PROBLEM! Watch out because I'm blowing this child out!

I pushed for 45 minutes and it was the best feeling ever! Oh my god, what joy.

I saw the look as it was exchanged between the doctor and my nurse.  Then the words came, "urgent C-section".

Eva wouldn't budge.

F my life...

You KNOW when you know

As I mentioned, this was my first pregnancy. So as much as I had been told what the signs of labor were, you don't really know until you KNOW! It's like having your first orgasm. Up until you have it you may wonder if you did, but there is no doubt in your mind once you've actually had it! Same with labor.

With my low PAP-A protein issue, I had been told that it could cause preterm labor, but Eva was growing right on schedule so the specialists told me they were pretty confident I wouldn't have anything to worry about. Not to mention, I had gestational diabetes, which threatens post-term labor and large babies. So I figured, great...that evens our Eva out perfectly. She would arrive on time and perfectly sized.

Again, I knew better in my soul. I had terrible nightmares throughout my pregnancy that Eva would arrive before we were at all prepared. The most memorable one of these dreams was when I sent Matt out to buy a car seat because they wouldn't let us take her home from the hospital without one and the numbnuts returned with a duffle bag...

I was so nervous about this that I almost murdered my mother when she was pretending she wouldn't grant my wishes of a pre-32 week baby shower so that we were prepared. You know, just in case...

Week 34 hit and I figured I was stretching and having Braxton-Hicks contractions finally. The funny nerve pinch feeling was probably just Eva getting into position. That gross glob of nastiness that I saw dislodge itself into the toilet was supposed to happen...right? I knew it my guts Eva was coming early, but I was afraid to say it out loud. I had 2 specialist appointments that week. One was a biophysical and one was with my GD doctor. Both were ultrasounds and both came back perfectly normal and no cause for alarm. When I went for my 34 week appointment with my regular OB/GYN, I convinced her to do an internal exam because I was due to go to Richmond in a few days...2 cm dilated, 90% effaced=not leaving New Castle County.

In some ways I was panicked. Would Eva be okay coming so early? Would I actually go into labor yet or be one of those chicks that walks around 4cms dilated for 3 weeks? I was soooooooo not emotionally, mentally or physically prepared for the event of labor. Shit.

The next day, a Tuesday, I went to the hospital because contractions began. After several hours there, they sent me home and told me to return if the contractions were stronger AND closer together, not either/or. They promised that I would "know" when it was time to come back.  I took their word for it.

Wednesday, I put myself on a couch-rest. I didn't have a contraction all day and I felt great. I breathed a sigh of relief....until it was 8:00pm and the charting began.  I had contractions all night. Slept 20 mins for every hour, but I was still questioning whether or not I "knew" it was time to go back.

The next morning (Thursday now), I still didn't know for sure, but I was brought to tears (ugly, gut-wrenching, I-want-my-mommy-tears) at the thought of being home by myself that day. What if I went into fast labor and the baby came before Matt could come pick me up (this is like the most laughable fear I had my entire pregnancy...a short, fast labor HAAA! HA!). Matt had a big meeting that morning. He called my mom for advice at 6:00am. My mother, who is a saint, hopped in the car and was on 95 towards Delaware in less than 10 mins, due to cross the state line by 10. I felt relieved and sent Matt on his way to get ready for work while I continued charting the crazy hardening and pulling of my abdomen.

Matt left for work and I sat down on the couch to watch a recorded episode of "So You Think You Can Dance" from the night before. And that's when I "knew". The show started with Cat Deely introducing the "jjjjdges" and I thought to myself, "Cat Deely? That's not her name. Why are they calling her that??". Then she introduced the contestant dancing first and I thought, "Brandon? That's not even a name at all..." and I luckily still had the sanity enough to realize I was becoming completely delirious. I sat up and looked at the dog by my side, who was staring back at me with concern. "Ok, you are Brady." I put my hand to my chest, "I am Jane. I am having a baby today." I called my mom to report my delirium to someone and she asked me to read the last 10 charted contraction times to her...

6:51
7:07
7:17
7:19
7:24
7:30
7:32
7:35
7:39
7:42...

She told me to call Matt right away and haul my ass to the hospital while I was still pregnant!  So I called Matt.  He said he hadn't even turned on the last of his 3 computer monitors on his desk by the time I called, that's how fast he had to come back for me.

It was Thursday, July 16, 2009. All I remember thinking was, "Damn. I don't like how July 16th sounds as a birthday".  How naive I was to think I'd only have a 24 hour labor...

The only test I ever failed...and BOY did I fail it big time!

The low PAP-A protein thing required monitoring from Maternal/Fetal Medicine at the hospital. Basically that meant that I got an ultrasound every month of my pregnancy to check growth and fluid levels and all that jazz. The doctors and technicians at that facility are amazing! There were times I did actual medical research on what I had and would then be a research bitch and quiz my specialist doctor and she ALWAYS was up to date on what research was currently saying about that darn PAP-A protein. I could not be more impressed than I was with them. They always said that she was growing right on track and doing all the little tasks they wanted to watch her do. Plus, I got pictures of our little girl every month of her pre-life! It was great!

It was before a regular visit with my regular OB/GYN, 28 weeks along that they made me drink that nasty red fruit punch concoction to test my sugar levels.  Two days later, they called and said I failed it and had to go to the lab to get the 3-hour glucose test to see if I actually HAD gestational diabetes or if it was just a bad sugar day all around.

I put it off. I waited a week to go to the lab because I simply KNEW it wasn't a fluke. I knew I had GD and I wanted one more week of eating pizza and brownies. Isn't that an awful confession? I know, I know...but I did go and shock of all shocks, I failed it. Like...really, really failed it.

So I have to make an appointment with (TADA!) Maternal/Fetal Medicine's GD department. When I meet my GD nurse, I am instantly in love with her. She is sarcastic and relaxed and over time proved to be incredibly supportive. Give it up again for M/F Med! She tells me that I don't "look" like I'd have GD. I only gained 20 pounds and looked, as she said, "well-rounded". Then she showed me my test results and her exact words were, "if you're gonna fail it, you may as well bomb the shit out of it, huh?". (LOVED her!). And that I did. I failed so bad there was concern I was an actual diabetic all along, but luckily I'm not. She showed me how to use the little tester sticks and how often and the reporting procedure. She gave me a lesson in the way we're all supposed to eat and how I now NEEDED to eat. I left that appointment feeling a sense of ease, that I could handle this. I could do anything for 10 weeks...no problem. I got this...

Only, I didn't have it. I became obsessed with food. I remember going to a family gathering at Matt's mother's house and nearly prosecuting him about what there was going to be to eat. When he said, "They're going to barbeque. There will be salads and sides and dessert.", I nearly throttled him. My response through tears was, "What kind of barbeque? Will they put BBQ sauce on it? Because I can't have BBQ sauce, it has too much sugar in it. Will they put dressing on the salad already because I can't have dressing? And do you mean lettuce based salads or pasta/potato salad because I can't have those. And what sides? Corn? I can't have corn. Potatoes? I can't have potatoes. Watermelon? They told me to lie and not report my sugar reading if I have watermelon because I am banned from being in the same room with it that's how much sugar it has. I can't have watermelon. And desserts? Did you really include desserts in that list?!? I am in my 3rd trimester. I should get to gorge myself on desserts, but I can't. So either I will have to leave early or not go altogether....p.s. you're an asshole, fyi!"

Gestational Diabetes was a bitch. I lost 9 pounds in 5 weeks WHILE PREGNANT! I couldn't eat anything. I remember my sister once texting me a picture of her eating a fancy Friendly's sundae and my response was a picture of my lunch=cheese cubes and plain unsalted almonds. I'm not even kidding.

I was ravenous constantly. Half because I couldn't really eat what I was craving and half because having GD makes you think about what you're eating constantly and because none of it is even sort of satisfying it makes you think about all the things you can't eat constantly. Which keeps you in a state of hunger nonstop. Not to mention you are 8 months pregnant....

I was mostly able to control my sugar levels through diet, except my fasting sugar. Which is the reading you take as you roll out of bed. Nothing in your system at all. There is almost nothing you can do about that reading to make it lower except maybe dream about excessive exercise and consume fiber through an IV drip in your sleep. So I had to take a pill in my 33rd week. I took it once a day and it did make a difference. I didn't mean I could eat anything I wanted. It just meant I could eat what I ate two weeks before.  That's the worst part of GD; every week (well, everyDAY really) you become less and less tolerant of sugar because your baby is growing and sucking the insulin out of you more rapidly. So what worked for you Monday, you can't even look at by Friday.

Here is a sample of my day at 34 weeks pregnant in July with Gestational Diabetes:
8:30am: wake up feeling like my bladder may burst I have to pee so bad even though I just woke up to pee at 6:30. wash my hands. take my sugar. curse myself and Matt for doing this to me because my sugar was too high. wonder if there was sugar on my hands from sweating during sleep and that's why it was high? make a note to ask my nurse about that. drink water. pee again.
9:00am: have breakfast=same thing as everyday this week=scrambled eggs with cheese and broccoli. pee.
9:30am: already feel starving, but can't eat anything until 10 because I have to take my sugar an hour after eating. drink water. pee.
10:00am: sugar test. Curse myself and chickens who make eggs and the farmers who must have put sugar on their crop of broccoli bc my reading is higher than it was yesterday with this same meal. drink water. pee.
10:30am: snack of plain yogurt (i HATE yogurt and plain yogurt is vomit in a cup), dream about the ice cream I'm not having. pee.
11:00am: get a text from a friend with an invitation to lunch at cafe gelato. pull up the online menu and sob because there's nothing I can eat there so I have to isolate myself from this outing....AGAIN. pee.
11:30am: have lunch of cheese cubes, plain unsalted almonds, and a salad of PLAIN grilled chicken and baby spinach...that's it. drink water. pee.
12:00pm: take brady for a walk for exercise and by that I really mean, take Brady for a waddle. drink water. pee.
12:30pm: take my sugar and do a dance because it is in the normal range! pee.
1:30pm: snack of apples smeared in peanut butter. drink water. pee.
2:00pm: nap. pee. nap. pee.
3:30pm: snack on a fiber bar. poop.
3:45pm: appointment at Maternal/Fetal Medicine for GD.
4:30pm: appointment at Maternal/Fetal Medicine for PAP-A. drink water. pee.
5:00pm: pee test at appointment for regular OB/GYN.
5:30pm: take brady for a walk. drink water. pee.
6:00pm: eat dinner of cheese cubes, plain unsalted almonds, and a salad of PLAIN grilled chicken and baby spinach because it worked at lunch time so well. drink water. pee.
7:00pm: take sugar and ugly cry on the kitchen floor because it is somehow WAY too high even though I just had the same thing at lunch with great results. consider that maybe my hand soap has a lot of sugar in it and some is left on my hand and that is why my sugar reading was bad. drink water. pee.
8:00pm: snack on plain almonds. drink water. pee
8:30pm: shower. drink water. pee. take GD pill. pee again.
9:00pm: go to bed completely defeated...again...

Keep those legs shut, child!

I used to have psychic dreams as a teenager. I dreamt a friend's father would die just days before he did. I dreamt that he would ask her to prom. I dreamt someone would rescue a dog. It got to the point that I had friends asking me to dream them up a quality boyfriend.

This is how I knew we were having a girl.

I talked myself out of it for awhile. Telling everyone I just wanted a healthy baby, which of course was absolutely true, it just wasn't the whole truth.

I had actually always wanted a boy first, but then I started having these really vivid dreams when I hit my second trimester of life with a daughter and I wanted it so bad I could taste it somedays. Whenever I had a dream with a baby or child in it, no matter how wacked out they were, it was always a girl.

The night before we were officially finding out, I had a different dream. I was home with a baby bundle in my arms humming and rocking it to sleep and it made me feel whole, only this time it was a little bundle in blue. Even within a deep slumber my conscious mind went, "huh...it's a boy this time". A short distance into the plot of this dream, Matt came home carrying a toddler girl.  And that's when I realized, it was a girl first...then a boy.

It was no shock the next day when they confirmed it was, indeed, a girl, but it was a joy that filled my heart to the point of tears. We were having a daughter....at least, they thought so.  After 2 hours and 3 ultrasound techs who were determined to not send me away without a for sure answer, our little one would simply not spread his/her legs (good girl, Eva!) so they couldn't be 100% sure. They told me I could buy the bedding, but not to wash it yet...

They may not have been sure, but I was. Not only was the bedding bought, but tags were ripped off, it was washed and thoroughly dried and the receipt was thrown away. Foolish? Nope. I knew this child. "It" was a "she".

When "the call" came that wasn't supposed to come

We decided to tell our families that we were expecting our first child at Christmas. I would only be 8 weeks along by then, but we felt we simply couldn't let the holiday pass by without sharing the news. It wasn't easy to keep our lips sealed until then, but we knew it would be worth it to see their faces when they opened their "grandparent" gifts. It was a wonderful Christmas present to give!

As 2009 arrived, it should have come with an announcement that it would be the year of "Jane's Blue Cross Blue Shield" because I ended up spending so much time at the darn doctor! We had our first prenatal exam the first week of January when I was 10 weeks. That brought the fun of trying to prepare Matt for his first observed OB/GYN exam! He he he... We heard the heartbeat and the PAP was smeared and we were on our way with our first little picture of this little tiny alien-like bean!

Two or three weeks later I went to the hospital for the routine first-trimester screening where they draw blood and do the Trisomy checks via ultrasound. It was amazing how much that little bean grew and changed in such a short time! No more alien-like appearance, but definitely a little baby profile developing! The ultrasound tech told us that everything looked great in her experience and if anything was wrong, we would get a call. No call would come if the bloodwork came back great.

So almost a week passed and we spent that time telling our friends and coworkers that we were due to have a baby in the middle of August. I was, in fact, in the middle of one of these revealing phone calls during a drive home from work (bluetooth was used, no worries!) when a beep came through. A call from the genetic specialist at the hospital with results from bloodwork...

Turns out some things were GREAT! Pretty much zero, zip, nada, nope chance of having a Trisomy abnormality=phew, awesome, relief, wonderful/why-are-you-calling-then?

One thing turned out potentially awful= Low PAP-A placental proteins. What the F is that? something the placenta creates to aid growth and life for the growing baby it supports. So what the F does that mean? Probably nothing, but possibly everything. Possible pre-term labor, low birth weight, small for gestational age (everything they told us about in "Abnormal Infant and Toddler" in college) and then of course the terms miscarriage and stillborn popped out of this bitch's mouth (she was actually quite kind, but no one delivering those words to me would be a friend!).

There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could eat as a supplement. It was out of my hands entirely.

They gave me two instructions: 1. make an appointment with Maternal/Fetal Medicine and 2. stay calm for the baby...right, no problem...shit.

As I write this first blog about "my motherhood", I have a toddler climbing on my back saying "ooh ooh ahh ahh" bc she thinks she is a monkey at 7:45 in the morning....exactly!

I guess I knew I wanted to be a mother when I was 17 years old. Tell me this didn't drive my mother to the edge of hysterics?! I was in love with my first long-term/serious boyfriend and as we contemplated first sex, I asked myself if I could handle the possible consequences. What would we do if I got pregnant. I decided quickly that I would have the baby. Would I keep it? Could I be a mother now? Did I even WANT to be a mother at all? The answer was a quick and clear, Yes.

This is not an episode of "Teem Mom", thank the Lord, so clearly I was not an idiot that thought the worst could never apply to myself. Before we even had the first-sex conversation I made myself an appointment at Planned Parenthood and started a decade of daily pills. See, mom, you raised me well! Luckily those pills and condoms worked 100% for me until I didn't want them to anymore.

Fast forward to my 2nd year out of college. I am working as a preschool teacher in private setting, teaching 3-5 year olds. I hate my job. I love teaching young children, preschool especially. I hate where I work. It sold me on a motto of being child-centered. It wasn't. It was ridiculous and they had it out for me-like, for real. However, I love the kids....well, let's be honest, I LIKE all the kids (but one....I really can't stand one), but I LOOOOOOOVE one. His name was Grayson. He was three and he was my little lap cat. He was obsessed with me, almost to a fault, but not in my eyes. He wouldn't nap unless it was me rubbing his back. He wanted me to put his shoes on to go outside and me to help him build his block tower. It was a mutual love. While I worked here, I was also going to graduate school so one day a week I had to leave early for class. Grayson was usually picked up before I had to leave early (I usually worked 7-6 (i'm totally serious), but on these days I left at 5). On one particular day, his mom was running late and I had to leave. He stood at the glass door of the classroom with his pudgy little hands on the glass and tears streaming down his face begging me not to leave... i turned around and went back in. Now, I'm not saying that I am heartless in my role as teacher, however, we are sort of trained to be able to see a child in stress and think, "so sorry, but you will be fine in 2 minutes and be back to playing". For one reason or another, I couldn't do that to this boy. My mind just wouldn't go there. My uterus panged seeing him like that....and I knew. I was ready to be a mother.

The shitness of it was that I was only 24 and not even married yet! So I shrugged it off...

Matt and I were married 2 months later and I left that job. THANK GOD! I taught special education in public school from that point on and loved it. It was where I was meant to be and so it is where I stayed. Loving those kids and what I did everyday allowed me to push off loving children of my own until Matt was ready. And then one day, he was.

The shitness of THAT was he was ready one day, and my father dropped dead the next. Out of the blue. One February afternoon (the day before the 100th day of Kindergarten). Just. Gone. And so was the floor underneath my feet.

It was a year before I started to feel solid ground and we decided to start trying. I went off the pill and went on a cruise with my mom and sister and drank...a bunch. Had to get that out of my system before the games began. And they did begin. We were so excited!

The shitness of that was it went on for a month. And then I took Brady, our golden retriever, for a walk in the neighborhood and when I let him off leash, he ran to catch up to me and ran right through me, flipping me and breaking my arm in 2 places and shattering my wrist.

Welcome to the excruciating experience of deep bone pain (there is NOTHING like it, not even labor!) in the ER for HOURS without pain meds because they asked if there was a possibility I could be pregnant...are you freaking-kidding me?! Yes for the first time in my life. YES. F my life right now.

Finally the nurse comes in and delivers the news that she is sorry, I am not pregnant. My response, "awesome! give me drugs". And she did. I also got a sedation and bone set, an orthopedic specialist, a surgery, lots of other drugs, short-term disability leave, physical therapy, two ridiculous scars, an infection in my thumb, a thumb surgery, more drugs and continued physical therapy....

6 months later, I am off the drugs, back at work, done with physical therapy, still in pain with only 75% range of motion in my wrist, but I'm ready. Let's do this already!

It's disturbing how many people take pictures of their pee sticks and put them online

Like I said, the positive sign was faint. The horizontal line was a bright strong blue as it was in all the other tests I took during those three months, but this time there was a very light, almost imaginary vertical line...

My boobs were sore. Not "getting my period sore", but "have to hold them to my chest while I brush my teeth sore". Like, seriously sore. But that was it. Well, that and a strange premonition from a fellow teacher at my school.

I had taken a test the Friday before because of the boobs=negative. Took one Saturday and Sunday= negative squared. On Monday after school, a first grade teacher said, "Jane are you pregnant?". I replied with the typical, "What are you trying to say? I'm fat?!" retort. But she said, "no nothing like that. I just keep 'seeing you' pregnant."...

That faint positive appeared that night.

I had hoped to be smooth and come up with some magical way of telling Matt he was going to be a father. Something with a scavenger hunt or, really, anything with any amount of grace. What did I actually do? I SCREAMED from the bathroom, "Christ, Matt get your ass up here right NOW!" He shot up the stairs thinking I'd killed myself somehow only to find me shoving a pee stick in his face speaking at 100 miles an hour asking him to verify that he sees a line. He did...he thought. It was really THAT faint.  So what did we do?

We turned to google. "faint positive home pregnancy results". No, a picture of my pee stick will not show up if you search that now, but seriously THOUSANDS will. Alas, I saw one that looked just like mine and Matt and I jumped up and down and then I quickly sat down, after all...I had a baby bouncing around in there somewhere!

Obviously the next day I called the doctor, but not before I went into that psychic teacher's room and asked her to give me 7 numbers.

Where can I get salmon sushi and margaritas in the same meal?

Trying to get pregnant involves sex and sex is supposed to be fun, right? In theory...

One sure fire way to cool down your marital sex life to mechanical status is to starting trying to get pregnant.

The first month was fun. (mom, close your ears...or eyes I guess for blogging purposes.) Truly, it was. Then I took a pregnancy test (let's be honest, I probably took 4 that first month) and it was negative. Let the structured, means-to-an-end sex schedule begin.

***I have to clarify that from the moment I knew we wanted to have a baby (so that was like a year ago at this point in my story), I felt a deep-seated intuition that having the family we wanted wasn't going to be easy breezy for us. I didn't know what that would look like though. Would we try for 9 months and then it would happen? Would something be wrong with my system or his? Would I need take hormones in order for it to happen? Would we need IUI or IVF? Would I conceive and miscarry? Would we have to use a surrogate or adopt? Would it be this pregnancy that was tricky or future ones, or both/all? I had no idea, I just genuinely knew that something would trip us up, but I told myself it was because I just wanted it so badly for so long and it was fear talking...***

So when that first, second, third and fourth test read negative that first month and my period soon followed I slowly began to panic. I talked myself out of the funk of that panic by the decision that while we were trying to conceive, if I got my period, we were going out for booze and raw fish.

September 2008= salmon sushi and a margarita
October 2008= salmon sushi and SEVERAL margaritas
November 2008= a very very very faint, but very real POSITIVE :)