Seven Quick Takes

It seems as though every time one of the bloggers I read stops posting for a while she returns with a pregnancy – or sadly, sometimes a miscarriage - announcement.  Let me put your minds at ease.  I am neither pregnant nor grieving another miscarriage. 

So where was I for the last few months?  Mostly trying to soak up the last bit of summer, surviving the first few weeks of school, and coping with the occasional round of insomnia.  I think we’re back in a good routine now, so I thought I’d dip my toe back into blogging with a fluffy post and by joining up with Kelly (really late because these are not worth reading) for a few quick takes about the random things I learned while not blogging.  Here they are, in no particular order:

 ~1~

 My email thinks almost 40 is one step away from the grave.  I used to get lots of spam for products to enhance various body parts and offers from women to cheat on my husband (my spam also thinks I'm male).  After my last birthday, those emails have stopped.  Now I get at least 2 a day offering me life and/or burial insurance and weekly emails from a website called "Senior Soulmates" and from the people who make those walk-in tubs for for the elderly.  I think I can do without the insurance and I don't have a use for a soulmate twenty years older than me, but those tubs are starting to look good....

 ~2~ 

Children have low cake expectations.  Jocie’s birthday was at the beginning of September.  She wanted a baking-themed party.  That’s not true.  She wanted a Frozen party, but I said no princess parties and tossed out a few ideas.  She liked the baking idea.  My cake decorating skills are not good, but I usually try to come up with something that relates to the party theme.  The only suggestions Google and Pinterest had for me this time involved lots of fondant and multi-tiered cakes.  I do not have the skill to mess with either of those for birthday cakes.  Since I was still trying to adjust to our new school year schedule, I decided to go easy on myself and decorate a 6 inch round cake like this, in a color of Jocie’s choosing.  Looks pretty simple right?  It probably would have been had my kitchen not been 1000 degrees when I attempted to frost it with frosting that had been out of the fridge too long.  After I had the first two layers of “roses” on I could tell this was not going well. Frosting was melting down the side of the cake and I’d almost run out of frosting.  The remainder of the roses looked a little better as it was a different batch of frosting, but it still wasn’t great and I had barely enough frosting to finish.  Jon wandered through the kitchen.  He’s used to my cake disasters and usually has something nice to say.  When I mentioned how badly this “easy-to make” cake had turned out, all he could muster up this time was “Well, it’s not TOO bad….”

There was nothing I could do about the cake so I put it in the fridge and went to bed.  The next morning, Jocie woke up and ran out to see what her cake looked like.  I braced myself for her disappointment, but she just smiled and said, “It’s soooooo pretty!” 

Yes, I know this take was not quick, but I need this story in print so I can read it again before I stress out about the next cake failure.  

 ~3~

 I don’t understand Spotify’s Discover Weekly.  For two weeks in August I listened to nothing but religious and classical music on Spotify.  Then I clicked on that new Discover Weekly feature to see what songs they suggested for me.  The entire playlist consisted of current pop songs and oldies music (I still hate to call 80s music “oldies”, but I suppose it is).  Two songs were related very loosely to the type of music I had been selecting: 1) Get me to the Church on Time by Frank Sinatra was the closest they came to church hymns and 2) If You Leave by Orchestral  Manoeuvres in the Dark which I guess alludes to the classical music as it has the word Orchestral in the artist’s name.

~4~


Guilt is a powerful motivator.  I hurt my back wrangling a four year old who is too old to need wrangling at Mass last Sunday.  On Tuesday morning, I threw my back out reaching down to pick up a shoe.  It's still not back to normal yet.....and neither is the four year old.  She knows that her behavior is largely the cause of my pain (well, that and the extra 30 pounds hanging around my tummy and hips).  She feels guilty about that and has been an angel all week long.  I'm hoping to milk that long enough to turn her good behavior into a habit.

~5~ 

 Hot flashes can curb early morning bickering.  My daughters wake up early most mornings, but they are not morning people until they’ve had their breakfast.  Nearly every day begins with a fight.  A few weeks ago, I was lying in bed on a Saturday morning sweating out my just-because-I woke-up hot-flash when I heard one of them slam the bathroom door and the other one cry and yell for her sister to open the door and let her in.  I wiped my forehead, paused in front of the fan that was turned on its highest setting, and headed to the hallway to intervene. Normally I might try to help one or both of them find a way to resolve the problem with minimal intervention from me.  I did not have the patience for that this particular morning.  Instead, I just said," You quit overreacting, and you open the door and let her in so I can go back to bed and finish my hot flash in peace and quiet!"  The over-reactor quieted down and the other one opened the door and let her sister in.  I returned to bed.  The only sound that could be heard was that of my husband choking on his laughter.

 ~6~

  Sometimes a hot flash is not a hot flash.  Last week, I was irritated that I was having hot flashes all day long.  Then Jon came home and looked at the thermostat.  It was 86 degrees in the house. We turned the air conditioner on and the "hot flash" magically disappeared.  

~7~

Putting sheets and quilts on bunk beds is a humiliating way to find out just how overweight and out of shape you are.  Enough said.


October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month and is also the one year anniversary of my first miscarriage.  I am hopeful I will be able to carve out some time to write a few posts this week related to these topics.

'Rone Rage

The girls and I have new thing going on Fridays this month.  We're calling it "Frimonday".  It's all the household chores of a typical Noack Friday mixed with the crummy attitudes of a Monday and topped off by one expensive or embarrassing event.  Today's event involved me calling a repairman from the gas company because I smelled natural gas in the kitchen, Jon's office (where the gas line comes into the house), and the living room.  After evacuating the girls into the 90+ degree heat, I was certain I could even smell it coming out the back door.  I'd left the door open because I needed to be able to see through to the front door to let the repairman in.  He couldn't call me when he arrived because my cell phone is not charged....and honestly, I'm not even sure where it it.  Probably at the bottom of my purse.

About the time I was thinking that the poor man was probably lying unconscious in my basement, overcome by the fumes, the repairman emerged to let me know he couldn't find a problem.

"But you can smell it right?" I asked.

"Uh....well...no," he replied, "but I did see some rice spilled on the floor down there.  I thought you might want to know so you don't get mice."

Great.  So now, not only does he think that I'm a crazy housewife who either overreacts or smells things that aren't there, he knows I'm a bad housewife.  The rice spilled this morning while I was cleaning, but I hadn't yet bothered to take a broom down there to sweep it up. The repairman was polite and checked a few more things which all turned out fine and was on his way back to whatever real work he was pulled away from by my non-emergency.

The girls, fueled by a round of heat exhaustion, launched back into Frimonday behavior.  Jocie is currently recovering from the day's excitement with a Raggedy Ann treasury and Meredith is serving time in her bedroom for misuse of a garden hose and fleeing from authority.  I am feeling knocked down by embarrassment, another round of Frimonday, and some unfun events of this morning.  Rather than dwell on all that, I thought I'd share a memory from nearly five years ago.  Coincidentally, it also took place on a Friday.

Friday, September 3, 2010 was a busy day.  Jocie turned one that day, I was preparing for her party the following day, my neighbor was holding a huge garage sale, and Meredith was fighting for survival against my plummeting progesterone levels.  My levels had dropped shortly after I found out I was pregnant with Jocelyn too, but an early ultrasound showed she was fine and my levels rebounded at the next check.  We assumed the same thing would happen with Meredith.  The ultrasound showed a healthy baby, but when I started bleeding a few days later, my levels were rechecked sooner than planned.  The results showed my progesterone was contining to decline.  I was diagnosed with a threatened miscarriage and scheduled to begin progesterone injections first thing that Friday morning.

I  was up early that morning to frost Jocie's cake while she hung on my ankles and scavenged for crumbs off the floor (I was a bad housewife back then too).  I dropped a cupcake off next door with the neighbor holding the garage sale as it was her birthday too.  I let her know that I was going to the doctor's office for about 30 minutes and asked that she not let people park in my driveway.  We live on a busy street with no on-street parking and side streets that fill up fast.  She agreed to keep an eye out for cars and since she was aware of what was going on with the pregnancy I trusted that she would protect my driveway.

The injection appointment was uneventful.  The nurse warned me about injection site pain and how to deal with that.  What she didn't tell me was that sometimes it takes your body a few injections to adjust going from progesterone levels of 13 to 200 in a matter of minutes.  Maybe that's not the case for everyone.  It was certainly the case for me, as I was about to experience.

As we drove down the the street toward our home, I could see a car pulled into my driveway.  I was annoyed more than I might normally have been, but figured it was just someone who needed to pull up closer to the sale to load their purchases.  I drove around a few blocks slowly before making my way back to our street.

The car was still in the driveway, but this time I realized that the driver was standing near her car trying clothes on her daughter.  There wasn't any traffic behind me, so I put my blinker on and waited.  She looked up, looked away, and continued with what she was doing.  As that progesterone continued to spread a bit further into my system,  my level of annoyance increased.  Think in terms of terms of Bruce Banner's pupils narrowing to pinpoints and his skin taking on a greenish hue.  Definitely an overreaction.

I turned my blinker off and drove around the neighborhood a little less leisurely this time.  I had a cake that needed to be frosted and a house to clean and I was still trying to stay off my feet as much as I could until the bleeding stopped.  I checked out the side streets for parking spots, but there weren't many and Jocie wasn't walking yet.  I really wasn't feeling up to lugging all 20 plus pounds of a sturdy toddler a few blocks and then sprinting across the busy street when I had a perfectly good driveway that would allow me to lug Jocie only a few feet before depositing her on the kitchen floor to go exploring for stray stale Cheerios.  The more I thought about my driveway, the angrier I became.

I turned back onto our street, pulled up even with the driveway, turned my blinker on, and waited.  This time the lady was chatting with someone.  She saw me again, and ignored me again.  By this point, all that progesterone was coursing through my veins and it sent me into full-blown Incredible Hulk mode.  I was not going to let this woman hijack my driveway any more.
I took my foot off the brake, applied it perhaps a touch too heavily to the gas pedal, and drove up onto my lawn.  I manuevered around her car and into the top half of my driveway.  I turned my car off, hit the remote to open the garage door, removed Jocie from her car seat, and stomped toward the garage as much as a woman trying to walk on eggshells so as not to miscarry can stomp.  The lady yelled "Sorry!"  in a tone that conveyed she was anything but, and then said that my neighbor gave her permission to park there.  When I didn't respond, she proceeded to tell me that I had a serious attitude problem.  While there were several comebacks running through my head, my progesterone-fueled rage couldn't overcome my introverted nature.  Strangers make me feel awkward, even when channeling The Hulk.....though, come to think of it, I don't ever remember Lou Ferrigno saying much either.  Usually he just growled and grunted.  Maybe he was an introvert too.  At any rate, I kept my comments and my growling to myself.  I just closed the garage door and went into the house to resume the party preparations.

So there you have it.  The progesterone story I promised you last week.  I can't say retelling it has jolted me out of my Frimonday mood, but maybe it made at least one of you laugh today.  And for those of you rolling your eyes and thinking to yourself "Is she EVER going to stop telling that story?", how about a cute picture of the little girl who was having a birthday that day?  Here you go:

And a bonus photo because I ran across this one while looking for the first and it made me laugh.

Answer Me This

I'm linking up earlier than usual today because it's our anniversary and Jon and I are headed out on our annual date of dinner and errands that are easier to run while the girls are at Grandma's house.  This year it's choosing  concrete stain for the sunporch and most likely Mexican food.  Don't be too jealous.


1. What's your favorite grocery store splurge?
Staying under the grocery budget each week is far more fun for me than splurging, so this is a hard one for me.
I don't know if it counts as a "splurge" since it's healthy, but summer fruit is something that I have a hard time resisting.  After a winter of eating nothing apples, oranges, and the occasional discounted bag of clementines, I tend to go overboard on all of the summer fruit.
I did splurge on cheap popsicles this summer.  Mostly to see the look on Meredith's face.  She'd been hintly not-so-subtly about how fun it would be to have popsicles throughout May and part of June.  I was feeling guilty about the high fructose corn syrup and artificial colors and flavors, yet didn't have enough wiggle room in the grocery budget to spring for the all-natural kind.  The one week she didn't mention them, I gave in and bought them.  She was shocked and so thankful (how did I end up with a child whose love language is gifts??).  I shouldn't have felt so guilty about buying them.  After a month of having them in the house, the girls have each eaten three....and Meredith has moved on to harassing me about the box of 100 ice pops the grocery store sells.  I'm not caving on that one.

2. How's your penmanship?
Like the love child of Zaner-Bloser and D'Nealian.  I had atrocious handwriting right up through my first year of college.  I thought I'd better fix that if I wanted to be a good teacher.  So I slowed my writing way down and forced myself to write neatly.  Now it's second-nature for me to write that way.  I prefer the clean lines of Zaner-Bloser, but I'm lazy and don't like to pick my pencil up as often as that style requires so a fair amount of D'Nealian sneaks in.  Plus monkey tails are fun.
I've always envied those who have artsy handwriting, but since I'm not artsy enough to pull that off, I'll just stick with my boring by-the-rules penmanship.

3. Do you have a "Summer Bucket List?"
Sort of.  After having summertime overplanning backfire on me a few years ago, I stick to a "Wouldn't it be fun if we did some of these things but not all of them and no pressure and mostly let's just focus on being outside as much as possible" list.  This week we're going to try to go to a free sprayground one day (to make up for the meeting with my investment advisor I'm dragging them to beforehand) and maybe walk to the nearby public flower gardens.

4. What's the best thing on the radio right now?
I don't listen to the radio a lot during the summer as I'd rather soak in the sounds of outside, but I do enjoy listening to Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me on Saturday mornings. 

5. Ice cream or frozen yogurt?
Yes please.  I like both, but if I'm not making it or buying it from the grocery store, then ice cream.  Because of the pricing.  I can go to an ice cream shop and look at the menu board and pick out the cheapest option.  Around here all the frozen yogurt seems to be sold by weight.  I haven't been to one of those places because I'm afraid that I'd put too much in my cup and then panic at the register.  I doubt they'd let me put any of it back and I'd have to pay for it and then I'd stay up all night worried that I need to find a job to pay back the money I frivolously spent on yogurt and then I'd be cranky the next day because of the lack of sleep and a few bites of yogurt just aren't worth all of that.

So ice cream.  Mint chocolate chip preferably.  Or cinnamon.

6. Have you had that baby NOW? (Again, you can skip this one if you want.)
No baby of course, but congratulations to Kendra on her newest blessing.
Meredith did harvest some baby peas from the garden though.  She wanted to grow peas and carrots this year.  After fighting chilly temps and flooding rains this spring, rabbits who managed to get through the picket fence lined with chicken wire to eat the young, tender plants and blossoms, and squirrels who made off with my first batch of cucumbers, it was exciting to finally get a bit of produce of our own.  The carrots aren't quite ready yet and Mer and I have differeing opinons as to whther we'll get more peas, but she was so happy to pick and eat the two peas we grew.  As you can see, the cucumber plants are doing well.  Chasing down a squirrel and taking back my cucumber seems to have stopped them from poaching produce from my garden. 

Go visit Kendra at Catholic All Year for more answers.

Thoughts on NFP from a Procrastinator

So it's the tail end of Natural Family Planning Awareness Week and many of the Catholic bloggers have written great posts about NFP from every perspective possible - the hyperfertile, the subfertile, the infertile, the overcharters, the undercharters, the noncharters.   I've been a little torn about throwing in my two cents for several reasons.

First and foremost, my body is deeply craving the progesterone it needs to (sorta) balance out my hormones and my mood this week.  Because of that, I have written some deep dark mean posts in my head.  Thankfully, there's no "publish" button for the thoughts I think to myself and God has given me the grace I need to recognize those thoughts as progesterone-deprived.  I'm not always so lucky.  Ask my husband.

Secondly, my feelings about NFP have run the gamut from excitement to gratitude to frustration to resentment to resignation to all of the above at the same time.  How I feel about it today isn't how I felt about it a year ago and might not be how I feel about it in a few months.

In the beginning, the Creighton model of NFP (sympto-thermal doesn't work for an insomniac like me!) was something that I couldn't praise highly enough.  Using it allowed me to lengthen my 17 day cycles and shorten my 12 day period to within more normal limits.  And it gave us this:

 And this 19 months later:

After that, my relationship with NFP gets a little rockier.  I've typed out several explanations this week, but since I don't think the line "NFP- It's better than contraception and immoral fertility treatments but not as good as God" will ever sell anyone on using NFP, I think I'll just refer you over to two other bloggers who have done a much better job that I could ever dream of doing.

Mandi of A Blog About Miscarriage wrote about how NFP is good and useful in some circumstances, but will never be easy for everyone because it has no place in the perfect world God created.  Go read it. It's good.

Christine of Domestic Vocation wrote this post that explains so exactly my daily struggle.  Trade out "tubal ligation" for "avoided pregnancy for 18 months due to family emergency and the fact that two rounds of post-partum depression is no joke (even though I joke about it because humor is my defense mechanism of choice) and was taking a toll on our marriage" and it's my story.

As for the future, I don't know how I'll feel about NFP.  Right now (dependent upon some test results in the next few months) we're staring down a potential choice of remaining open to life and facing what would be high chances of additional miscarriages or living like Bert and Ernie for the next 2-11 years.  Which, come to think of it, we already do.  I'm an insomniac that gets lonely during the night and Jon gets annoyed when I wake him up with silly questions. Like this:

Anyway.  It looks like I've gotten a bit off track.  NFP.  It's a great tool to help you concieve (or not) if the whatever happens, happens method isn't working (or is working too well!).  Go read the other articles.

Come back tomorrow for Answer Me This and maybe a bonus story about what happens when I overdose on progesterone that was requested by a reader.

Almostforty

***Attention relatives: I promised to clearly label fertilty posts and mommy blogger posts.  This post contains personal information regarding my fertility.  Everyone has different tolerance levels for this.  If yours is low you may want to stop reading now so that you can still look me in the eye when you ask me to pass the potatoes at the next family gathering.

Ahem.  Now that we're down to the remaining three readers of this blog, let's continue shall we?

Today is my thirty-ninth birthday.  On Monday I started to type up a celebratory post detailing all the minutiae of my health issues and doctor appointments since my last miscarriage.  That's what five days of costochondritis - which feels like you are having a heart attack and can't catch your breath (even though your oxygen levels are just fine) - and an hour or so trapped in the girls' room "encouraging" Meredith to lay her sweet little head down on her pillow and succumb to sleep will do to you...or at least to me.

Fortunately, I didn't finish that post before the girls fell asleep and I came to my senses before clicking on the "publish" button.  Still, now that  I'm firmly past the "well, yes, your fertility IS declining, but there's PLENTY of time" age of 35 and well into the "Umm, really, you want a baby?....and you're HOW old again?" age of almostforty, I feel like I should do an update on where we're at in terms of fertility.  I'm typing this while the girls are at storytime, so I am forced to keep it brief.  You're welcome.

After nearly a year of feeling less and less trusting and confident of the ob-gyn I've been with for the last seven years, I finally switched to a new doctor in Omaha.  I've only had one appointment so far and she was a little hard to read, so I'm not certain yet that it was a good move.  She wants to start over with everything so we're starting back at square one in terms of identifying my fertility issues.
Here's what we know so far:

• It is suspected that my endometriosis has returned and she wants to do another laparoscopy to remove it.  I agree that it has returned, but it is not yet interfering with my life in the way that it did before my last surgery (I felt like I had the stomach flu and that all my internal organs were being wrung out for 1-2 weeks every cycle).  I think we'll wait to see what the bills from my cardiac-episode-that-turned-out-not-to-be-a-cardiac-episode-but-required-lots-of-expensive-cardiac-related-tests-to-rule-things-out-because-Julie-can't-ever-have-simple-health-issues are like before we commit to another laparoscopy.
• She wants to see what my body does without progesterone.  I have taken oral progesterone for the last 7+ years.  It's what keeps me nice during the second half of my cycle.  Okay that's not true.  It's what keeps my pms-induced irritability from completely ruining the lives of everyone around me for the last ten days of my cycle.  Pray for Jon and the girls.  And check back here for new posts during the next two months.  There's no telling what kind of blog posts progesterone deprivation will generate.

•  I might have PCOS.  I don't buy it as my symptoms don't match any of the common PCOS symptoms and I have been previously diagnosed with premature follicle rupture, which is sort of the opposite of PCOS.  If she can back it up with some cold, hard facts then I'll be more willing to listen.

• She wants to answer the question of whether I'm in perimenopause about as much as my previous doctor and my NFP consultant did.  The other doctor rejected that idea based solely on my age.  My NFP consultant usually denied it, but recently has started admitting that it is one possibility.  The new doctor refused to answer the question.

• After my two months of nonstop rage progesterone withdrawal, I will go back up to Omaha to have my NFP charts evaluated and blood drawn for a hormone panel.  It's been about two years since I've had one of those and given my age, the old one is probably no longer accurate.  The results of this bloodwork should answer the am-I-or-aren't-I perimenopause question.

So where does that leave us now?  Mostly waiting.  Based on the frequency with which my formerly cold-blooded self is dragging an oscillating fan around the house, I'd guess that the next round of bloodwork will show that I'm on the fast-track to menopause.  In that case, game over.  I will be sad, Jon will be sad (but relieved that the medical fund part of our budget might have a chance to recover), and we'll need to break the news to Meredith that God is not going to answer her daily prayer of another sibling in the way she is hoping.  And for any of you who are thinking that I don't have a right to be sad because this is my own fault and I should have had my babies when I was younger and more fertile, I'm working on writing about that very topic.  For now, suffice it to say that I think many women are at least a little sad when their child-bearing years come to a close, regardless of the number of children they have or don't have.

And then we'll all move on.  Jon will work on building a bunker for himself in anticipation of having two female teenagers and a maybe-not-quite-yet-post-menopausal wife at the same time.  And I'll move on to setting my sights on another unattainable goal.  Aside from having more children, the one thing I've felt compelled to do in the last few years is find a way to help our diocese educate students with disabilities whose needs can't be met by existing programs.  Which is a completely ridiculous goal for someone who homeschools, has allowed her teaching certificate to lapse, has no connections to anyone who can make this happen and doesn't even know if the Catholic families of children with severe and/or multiple disabilities are even interested in this.  So maybe I'll just spend more time thinking about what's next.

If I am wrong, then I guess we'll see what the doctor's recommendations are.  We would love to have another baby, but given my age, we're also going to be realistic about the chances of various treatments actually working and will weigh the risks and costs with the needs of our current family.

As for today, now that I've deleted all the life insurance and burial life insurance offers from my inbox, I'm going to spend the rest of my birthday taking care of my girls.  That will likely include a round of Candyland with Meredith, scrubbing out and refilling the swimming pool, washing the towels that I found mouldering in the bathroom, and a trip to the neighborborhood park this evening to ensure a quick and painless bedtime for all of us.  BLTs, sweet corn, and homemade sugar-free blueberry popsicles are on the menu for tonight...and then probably 45 minutes of quality time with a Fitness Blender workout to combat the bacon and bread calories, followed by a moment of silence in remembrance of my 20s when I could eat bacon and bread (and cake and ice cream) on my birthday and not gain any weight.

Answer Me This - Julie is Cheap and Boring Edition

I haven't been very good about blogging lately.  The days have been busy around here and I'd rather spend my nights sitting on the sunporch with a good book listening to the chirps of the birds and the katydids, the rustling of the leaves, and the sounds of so many kids bouncing on trampolines (while mine lay in their beds discussing how none of the other kids on the block have to go to bed as early as they do).
I should be out mowing the lawn this afternoon, but it's 93 degrees with a heat index of 103 so I think that will wait until tomorrow.  Jon threw his back out again this morning and I have a bout of costochondritis (inflamed chest wall for no good reason that makes it feel like you're having a nonstop heart attack - loads of fun!) so we're just laying low for the day.  I thought I'd catch up on blogging by playing along with Answer Me This.  I'm hoping to post a few times in the next week about infertility, a health update, and maybe something cute for the grandparents.....but we'll see how the week plays out.


1. At what temperature do you keep the thermostat set? Summer, winter, day, night?

We are cheap economically and environmentally conscious people so we try to have the thermostat set to off as much as possible.  In the summer, once the indoor thermometer hits 85 degrees, we turn on the A/C and set it to 79.  We turn it off and open the windows as much as possible.  It drives me nuts to not be able to hear the sounds of spring, summer, and early fall.  When the weather turns cold, we set the temp to 66 during the day and 64 at night.  The first year we lived here we tried to live with 63 during the day and 60 at night.  It was doable, but when I found myself reaching for a third pair of socks to wear over the two I already had on, we decided to adjust the budget and the thermostat a bit.

2. What is your favorite frozen beverage?

I have no idea.  Frozen beverages seem like more work and expense than they are worth so I don't ever make them.  We only go out to eat a couple of times a year and I usually try to order whatever is least expensive, so fancy drinks are out then too. I do prefer crushed ice to cubes in my tea and water.  Does that count?

3. Where do you keep your keys?

Wherever I set them down.  Which is why I am always looking for them and often in a bad mood by the time I leave the house.  I do have 3 or 4 usual places, but there are also 10-12 occasional locations and 1 or 2 "which child moved my keys there because there is absolutely no reason I would ever think of putting them there-oh wait, maybe I did" spots. 
When I was single, I had a cute little dish on an entryway table that I dropped my keys in every time I walked through the door.  I always knew where they were, I was never late because I couldn't find my keys, and the only reason I needed a spare key was to loan to the car repair shop.
Now I just toss them wherever they land when I come in the house carrying a week's worth of groceries, a sinful number of library books, and/or a tantrumming or sleeping Meredith.  Jon frowns upon this habit of mine and always knows where his keys are.  Until he installs key hooks just inside the front and back doors, things are unlikely to change.  And if I'm being honest, key hooks probably won't change my bad habit either.

4. Have you ever really been lost? 

Jon and I get at least a little lost every time we travel.  Once, while trying to visit his aunt and uncle, we missed the same exit 3 times in a row.  We still knew where we were though, so I guess that doesn't count.
When I was a child, I got lost a lot.  I was really short and had a tendency to daydream (or read while walking if I had a book with me).  All adults look pretty similar from the legs down, so it was not uncommon for me to wander off with another lady in stores.  I usually figured it out pretty quickly and, after a panicky few moments, was able to find my mom - often without her even knowing I had been gone.
We lived three blocks straight south of the junior/senior high school in a very small town.  When I started kindergarten, a bus picked me up across the street from my house after lunch and another one dropped me off outside the high school at the end of the day.  For the first few days my high-school aged sister was responsible for walking me from the bus to our house.  After that it was assumed that I could walk that short distance home.  All I needed to do was walk to the corner, turn left and walk three blocks to our house. 
The first day that I was to walk by myself, I hopped off the bus, walked confidently to the corner, and froze.  Was I supposed to walk a short way, turn, and walk a long way?  Or was it walk a long way, turn, and walk a short way?  I couldn't remember.  After some hard thought, I chose the latter, which was, of course, wrong.  As I started walking, I did think that the houses didn't look familiar.  By the time I reached the highway two blocks away, I knew I wasn't going the right way, but I was impressed that the cars were stopping for me, so I continued across the highway.
Rather than turning around and backtracking, I decided to go ahead and turn left and continue walking.  After another block, I decided to cross back across the highway.  Again, the drivers were so nice and stopped for me to cross.  I crossed the side street and decided to cross the highway again.  I don't remember if I did so because it seemed like the right path or because I was just having fun causing the cars to stop for me.  After the last highway crossing, I continued on for one more block.  As I was stopped at the next corner trying to decide whether to go back across the highway, a familiar car pulled up and I was ordered into the backseat. 
While I was out exploring, my mom was waiting at home for me to return.  My three-year-old sister had pushed a plastic bead into her nostril and my mom needed to take her to the doctor.  Once my older sister arrived home (without having passed me on the way), my mom left her to wait for me and drove the 3 blocks to the doctor.  One block from her destination, she saw me, stopped the car long enough to order me into the backseat and drove on to the doctor.  I don't remember her being anything but irritated that I was standing on the side of the highway several blocks from where I was supposed to be.  There was probably some concern on her part, though, as another kindergartener who lived on our street was put in charge of getting me started home in the right direction every day until Christmas.

5. What is the last movie you saw in the theaters?

I'm a cheapskate and there usually isn't money in the budget for things like movies.  We almost always wait for movies to come out on Redbox or watch older ones on Netflix.  The girls don't really know about movie theaters and think it's exciting to eat supper in the living room while watching a movie 4 or 5 times a year.  It works for us.

After reading so many positive reviews of Cinderella this spring, I decided to splurge on tickets.  Our local theater has $5 tickets every Tuesday so that made it more affordable.  I really enjoyed the movie.  I think Jocie would have too, but she was too blown away by the Frozen short that preceded the movie to pay attention to anything else.  Meredith enjoyed the free popcorn.  I think we'll stick with Redbox and Netflix.

.......Reading back over these, I'm realizing that all I've shared is that I'm cheap and boring and unorganized about my keys.  Head over to Catholic All Year for more interesting answers!

Answer Me This - Father's Day Edition

Linking up with Kendra for another edition of Answer Me This while Jon splashes in the kiddie pool with the girls....because he's the fun parent.

1. What's the best thing about your dad?

My dad died when I was just barely 2 years old, so I don't have any memories of him.  I guess I'll go with he gave life to me and 5 of my siblings.

That's me at about 1 year with my dad.  Excuse the glasses - it was the 70s.

2. If you have kids, what's the best thing about THEIR dad? (If you don't, feel free to substitute your grandfather or another father figure.)

I don't think I can choose just one thing.  Jon is patient about the things that stress me, he is a better housewife (cooking, cleaning, etc) than I am, he rarely complains no matter what the girls and I throw at him, AND he's the fun parent.  He's willing to let them play games on the ipad, read all the licensed character library books that I refuse to, sing silly made up songs to them, and play I Spy Snap (quite possibly the worst game ever invented) more than once a month.  He lets the girls help him with projects around the house and doesn't even bat an eye when they show up to help him hammer things wearing a tutu and a tiara.

Jocelyn and Meredith think the best things about their dad is that he plays with them, he is silly, and he takes them to Menards.

 He also lets me take pictures of him doing silly things with the girls, but I'm not allowed to share those photos with anyone, so this is the best you're going to get.  That's a bummer because I have some really good photos of him in bunny headbands and princess tiaras.  Just use your imagination.

Jon and Jocelyn September 2009.  She was a Daddy's girl from day one.

Father's Day 2011.  Meredith hadn't yet learned Jon is the fun one and only barely tolerated him holding her.

Apparently I need to take more photos of Jon and the girls.  This one is from last November just before our camera died and it's the most recent one I have.

3. What's the best advice your dad ever gave you?

While he was alive, it was probably something along the lines of "Don't put that in your mouth" or "Stop eating the dog food".

While he didn't live long enough for me to remember any of his advice, he did leave me a rosary that had belonged to his mother.  It's just a simple rosary with dark purple glass beads, but it does serve as a reminder to pray more often.  During the sixteen years that I was very apathetic about my faith, that rosary reminded me that my dad expected me to grow up to be a faithful Catholic.  That knowledge was part of what kept me going to Mass even when I thought I didn't believe in the existence of God and was part of what helped return to my faith in my early 30s.

4. What's something you have in common with your dad? 

There are probably some good things we have in common, but since most of my information on this topic comes from remembering times when my mom would roll her eyes and say "You're just like your father" I'll have to go with some of the less positive attributes.

He was stubborn and so am I.  The ability to debate well and enjoy a good argument go hand-in-hand with our stubborn natures.  Completely unrelated to that,  we both have hair that takes forever to get wet and twice as long to dry.

The weirdest trait we share is that of an itchy brain.  Growing up, I thought everyone occasionally had that odd feeling that makes you wish you could just pop your skull open for a minute and scratch your grey matter.  One day in frustration, I voiced that wish out loud.  My mom turned and looked at me with wide eyes and told me that aside from my dad, I was the only person that she had ever heard complaining of an itchy brain.  Does anyone one else ever feel this way?

 5. What's the manliest thing you know how to do?

I can fix stuff.  Growing up in a single parent family with little spare money, I learned how to do lots of small repairs.  Having an analytical mind helps too.  My favorite thing to fix is the dryer, though the last time I fixed that I ended up creating a much bigger issue that I was not able to fix.
After hearing a weird sound whenever I turned the dryer on, I did a little research and a little disassembly and determined I needed some part  for the drum.  I called the local appliance parts store and after learning they had the part in stock and it was inexpensive, I loaded the girls into the minivan, and took off for the store.  In my excitement, I momentarily forgot that the van was squeezed into our 1940s single car garage.  It fit but care had to be taken when backing out and pulling in as there were only a couple of inches of clearance on either side of the van.  As I backed out quickly, I failed to check the clearance on the passenger side.  I remembered to check as I heard the sideview mirror being ripped from the van.

That's not the worst part of the story.  As it turns out, the new dryer part didn't fix the noise.  A little more disassembly uncovered a sucker stick and a Lego weapon were the true cause of the noise.

Fortunately my husband can fix things too.  Things like installing and painting new car mirrors.

Reading back over this, I'm realizing this is probably not the best story to share to prove my manliness.  I really can fix stuff and it usually turns out okay.....except that time I touched a bare copper wire.

Anyway.  Let's move on to the next question.

6. Who is your favorite fictional dad?

I'm sure I'm going to read other responses to this and realize there are better selections that the one I'm going to choose, but my insomnia has a stranglehold on me this week and I don't have much brainpower left.  Soo....I choose the dad in the Frances books. I love that he can play with Frances and Gloria and have fun, but he is clearly a parent and not their friend.  He means what he says and the badger children know it.  In Bedtime for Frances, he is patient and humors her attempts to stay up, but when he's had enough he lays out clear rules and consequences.  While Frances is tempted to push the boundary, she doesn't.  I also like that he has a deep appreciation for everything his wife cooks.

I think Jon would probably choose the dad in the Knufflebunny books by Mo Willems.  He loves the facial expressions on the dad as he has to do things like call another dad in the middle of the night because his daughter lost her beloved bunny.


If you're looking for more grown-up answers to question #6 go see Kendra at Catholic All Year.

Counting My Blessings (even when I don't want to...)

It's taken me three days to finish this.  Partly because I procrastinate moving pictures from my camera to my computer, partly because I'm horrible at choosing fonts in Picmonkey (which is not a big deal unless you are a perfectionist and certain that the whole life and death of your blog relies on one font choice), it's easier for me to wallow than be grateful, and largely because the weather's nice so we've been outside a lot.  Most of this was written on Tuesday, so if you're reading this and wondering about my inability to describe the weather, just think back to Tuesday.  This is more of a "weekbook" than a "daybook" at this point, but we'll just pretend it all happened in one day, okay?

Sitting:  
On a picnic bench at our neighborhood park while the girls eat lunch under the play equipment. 

Drinking:  
Peach sun tea.  A summer necessity.  I need to set another jar outside to brew today.

Listening to:  
The birds chirp.  The mourning doves are my favorite.  I can also hear the beep-beep of the construction equipment working up the street at the hospital.

Enjoying: 
Near-perfect weather.  The sun is shining without a cloud in the sky.  The temperature is cool enough to be comfortable in pants (if you have a bum thyroid like me, anyway) but warm enough to wear short sleeves.  There’s a slight breeze.  Days like this are so much more appreciated after all the rain we’ve had this spring and summer.  Tomorrow is supposed to be rainy again.

Cooking:
Hmm…well, I didn’t burn anything this week, so there’s something.  I baked a dozen of these to take to Jazz in June and froze the rest of the dough in 36 scoops to bake as needed.....or wanted.  Cookies are not really a necessity, I suppose.  I need to find some new summer salads.  I would eat nothing but salads and sandwiches all summer if I could, but Jon and the girls need a little more variety.  Suggestions?

Making:  
So many things for school - lesson plan forms, history lessons, science book lists, co-op memory work activities, map stickers, file folder games, preschool literacy activities for an active four-year old who wants to read like her big sister.  And lists.  I'm always making lists.  I can't get anything done without a list.

Learning: 
That hair dryers and hot flashes do not mix.  Especially in an already steamy, post-shower tiny, windowless bathroom.  I might have scared Meredith in my rush to find the nearest oscillating fan.

Thinking:
Not much.  Insomnia has wiped me out the last few days.  Very few brain cells up and running.  And the ones that are have been taken over by memory work songs that the girls insist on listening to over and over in the van. So mostly I think things like "The colonists paid high TAXES on suuuuugarrr and tea...." and "A pronoun is a word that takes, word that takes, word that takes, a pronoun is a word that takes the place of a noun."

Smiling at:
I looked up from what I was doing on Monday and saw this walking past me.  I love that anytime they wear something like this they truly think it’s one of the most beautiful outfits on the planet. I really wish I'd taken a side shot of this.

Praying for: 
+ Acceptance of God's will in our lives.
+Answers regarding why I am miscarrying repeatedly and the odds of it continuing to happen.
+All those who struggle with infertility and/or miscarriage.  
+Patience.
+A friend from high school who was recently diagnosed with cancer.  
+My children as they struggle to learn self-control and deal with disappointment. 
+My husband who has to live with me.

What I’m thankful for: 
*My husband who has near-endless amounts of patience with me….and who has an office to play in and a garage to organize when he runs out of patience.  
* Jocelyn’s love for books. 
* Meredith’s ability to say something funny just when we all need a laugh.  
*Summer. The heat, the flowers, the green grass, the ability to shoo the children outdoors and latch the door while I read a book and sip tea in my rocking chair on the mostly bug-free sunporch. 
*Flower beds and flower pots that haven’t been eaten by the rabbits.  
*The pretty fence around my vegetable garden that is rabbit proof. 
*The opportunity to introduce the girls to a “poison berry” bush in our park.  I don’t know what kind of bush it really is, but we had one growing next to our front porch when I was little and I have many fun memories of playing with the flowers and berries it produced.
*The downtown library's children's room.  The girls love that it has a felt board and a few toys.  I got  a kick out of the outspoken two year old who chatted with me.  

Working on:
✔︎ Portion control and better lunch choices. 
✔︎Exercising in the morning if insomnia subsides.   
✔︎Checking one or two fun summer activities off our list this week.
✔︎Cleaning the storage and laundry rooms on the next rainy day - that’s the only time I am willing to spend summer days in the basement.....or the NEXT next rainy day.  It rained today (Thursday) but we chose to build a nest of cushions on the sunporch and read a stack of books fresh from the library while it rained.
✔︎Deadheading the daisies and daylilies so they will continue to bloom.
✔︎Finding a balance between playtime and worktime.

Secondary Infertility is .......(Part 2)

As I mentioned yesterday, I've been on the fence about what focus to pursue with this blog.

 I could unload all the horrible, yucky stuff about secondary infertility and miscarriage until I get it all out of my system.  The problem with that is that it's not all I think about and it doesn't consume my entire life.  I also don't want to seem like I'm whining all the time.  Yep, part of my life really stinks and I pray it were different.  I also know that there are so many others who have been given much heavier crosses to bear.  I need to remind myself occasionally to count my blessings instead of my burdens.

I could focus just on the light fluffy fun stuff - silly things my girls do, my domestic failures, fun link-ups, etc., but that's not all of who I am either.  Besides, there are only so many ways I can write about my knack for burning dinner before we all get bored.

That leaves me with what I originally said I'd do - a mixture of the two.  Despite my concerns that people may comment on the state of my mental health after I follow up a post about how much I want another baby with a story about how bananas the two children I have drive me, that's exactly what I'll do.  Because THAT is my life, thanks in part to massively imbalanced hormones that refuse to be subdued.  Be glad you don't have to spend time in my head - it's a scary place.  So comment away.

Today, as the post title suggests, I'll return to the topic that I started this blog with - what secondary infertility means to me.  It's taken me a while to get back to this, partly because my miscarriages have been on my mind more than infertility, and partly because it took me a while to sort my running list into categories and add checkboxes so I can mark off when I've written about each thought.  It's still not in a spreadsheet, but this will have to suffice. 

Okay, now that I've bored you all into clicking over to a more interesting, less wordy part of the internet, here goes.....


Secondary Infertility is....

Seeing pregnant bellies everywhere
You know how after you learn a new word, you suddenly see that word in all sorts of places?  Or after you purchase that car that you think is such a unique color that you'll be able to spot it in even the most crowded parking lot, but then you realize every fourth car on the road is that same exact color?  The same goes for pregnant women.  As soon as you find yourself unable to conceive (or carry a baby to term), suddenly all you can see is an army of women waddling toward you.

 Jocelyn scribbled this when she was 18 months old, just a week before Meredith was born.  Does anyone else see a pregnant woman, or is it just me?

Some of the infertility resources tell you to steer clear of places expectant women are likely to be.  I have no idea how easy that is for women with primary infertility, but it's darn near impossible for those of us with secondary infertility.  Pretty much anywhere the girls enjoy going - the library, the parks, the children's museum, to name a few - are full of young, growing families.  Add in participation at a church that is full of families open to life and weekly errand days that are shared with retired people and other stay at home moms.  Unless we stayed home every day and kept the shutters closed (which introverted me is more than willing to do, but the girls aren't on board), I'm bound to bump into a belly or two or ten nearly every day.

A lot of days, I have no problem with that.  I won't lie and say I don't notice, but I can laugh it off.  One day, about a year or so ago, I'd had one of those days when I couldn't turn around without feeling someone else's unborn baby kick me in the elbow.  That evening I turned on the tv to a cooking show on PBS, figuring that would be safe.  The chef was pregnant.  All I could do was laugh. 

Other days, it's much harder to take.  I'm pretty used to it now, so it doesn't bother me as often.  My hormones right now are in a really volatile state of attempting to  recover from miscarriage, adjusting to a supplement change, and probably entering a new phase of perimenopause.  That means I have no idea what emotion will dominate any given situation.  I'm a whole lot of fun.  Pray for Jon.

On Sunday, I found myself sitting in our usual spot in church, give or take a few pews.  For whatever reason, though, most of the people around us were not the ones we usually sit near .  One possible reason could be Meredith's month long regression into two-year-old behavior during Mass a few weeks back that caused everyone around us to find a new favorite pew.  Anyway, as I watched the pews fill in, I saw a young mom expecting a baby sitting a few rows in front of us.  Not a problem.  Then came a family with 6 or 7 young children and a mom who appeared to be in those uncomfortable last few weeks.  Hmm....still okay.  Another large family that will be adding a new member in a few months filed in behind us.  Seriously?  Where are the elderly people in the parish today?  I was still holding it together though.  Then, as we stood for the Gospel, a movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.  A boy a few pews up from us, put his hand on his mom's tummy to feel his baby brother or sister kicking.  That was the straw that broke me.

I spent the rest of Mass trying to refocus being attentive to the Mass and simultaneously attempting to pass off my tears as allergies.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to leak tears without any Kleenex?  I don't bring a purse into church anymore because it's too much of a temptation for Meredith, but I might need to take a pack of tissues with us in case my hormones get the better of me again.  I don't think my "wow these allergies are making my eyes water" nor my "I have such a headache I need to take my glasses off and rub my eyes (and then wipe my wet hands on my skirt)" tactics fooled anyone.  There will likely be a new group of people trying to avoid sitting near us next week.

Today was better.  We ran our weekly errands and despite the fact that I was sandwiched between two pregnant women in the checkout lane at the grocery store, my "allergies" didn't act up at all.  However, a few 80s songs playing on Spotify later in the afternoon caused a brief flare-up.  I'm not telling which songs.

Okay, is anyone still reading?  Probably not.  I don't blame you a bit.  If I wasn't writing it, I would have stopped reading too.  This is way too long, but I'm too tired to edit.  I'm just going to hit publish and go to bed so I can lie awake for a few hours courtesy of the return of my insomnia.

I'll be back tomorrow --or sometime later this week -- with a post about gratitude and there will likely be an amusing picture of at least one of the girls.

Answer Me This

 Where have I been lately asks no one?  Well I'll tell you anyway.  My last post knocked the energy out of me for a few days.  It was cathartic to write, but wore me out more than I had anticipated.  Once I'd recovered from that, I dove into prepping for next year's schoolwork and I managed to hot glue two of my fingers together and spent some time nursing my burns.  They didn't make typing feasible.  Since then I've composed a number of blog posts in my head, but can quite decide whether to focus more on the deep, dark, yucky stuff or the light, fluffy stuff.  For today, I'll avoid that decision and link up with Kendra for a round of Answer Me This.

1. Any big plans for the summer?
Nope.  Three summers ago, I was determined to not get to the end of the summer feeling like we'd missed doing some of the "summer" things.  I bought a big sheet of posterboard and made up a pretty calendar for June July and August.  I scheduled in all the things we wanted to do during the summer.  It was color-coded and had symbols for different types of activities and almost every day had something scheduled.  The first week of June I had jury duty.  No big deal.  I just moved a couple of things onto other days.  Plenty of summer left.  No need to panic.  The second week of June a family member became very ill and all of our summer plans went out the window.  I was stressed out because none of my plans, save for one barbecue, could be carried out.
Thankfully, I learned my lesson instead of trying harder the next year.  Now Jon, the girls, and I make a list at the beginning of the summer of all the things we'd like to do.  When we're looking for something to do, we consult the list and choose something.  Mostly we just play outside a lot.

2. What is the strangest thing you believed as a child?
We had a bathroom that was accessed through the bedroom I shared with my sister.  Between the end of the bathtub and the wall was a small closet.  At some point in my early childhood, I became convinced that a man lived in that closet.  When the closet door was opened he slid under the bathtub (there was a small opening in the wall on the bathtub side of the closet that supported this theory).  I spent many days and nights afraid that he would pop out of the bathroom and chase me or that I wouldn't pass the "feather" test that he performed each night while I was sleeping (loooong story that makes me seem weirder than many of you already know I am).  My mom had little tolerance for my belief in The Man in the Closet.  That hit an all time low when I became convinced that the new male employee at the local Ben Franklin store looked exactly like both The Man in the Closet AND the scary man from an episode  of The Love Boat.  Despite my pleas, she refused to call the police and forbid me to discuss it anymore.
What can I say? I read a lot of mysteries at a very early age and watched a few shows that were probably not appropiate for my age and imagination.

3. What is your favorite amusement park ride (can be a specific one at a specific park or just a type of ride)?
Well, since watching people swing on backyard swingsets makes me nauseated, I don't really do amusement park rides.  Boring, I know.


4. What's on your summer reading list?
I just finished In This House of Brede and am struggling to find another book that measures up to that one.  Jocelyn and I are reading Beezus and Ramona together.  She and I can both relate to Beezus, having been blessed with Ramona-like little sisters.  I have Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography on hold at the library.  I'm currently number 11 in line so I should get to read it before the summer is over.  If I can earn enough Swagbucks to buy them for free (no book budget for me), I want to read The Little Oratory and Abandonment to Divine Providence.  Otherwise, I plan my summer reading like I plan the rest of my summer, which is not much at all.
5. Have you ever fallen asleep in public?
I don't think I've fallen asleep in a large group of people.  I did, however, fall asleep once while watching a movie with my future sister-in-law and her husband the weekend I met them.  Jon and I had traveled to Wisconsin to visit them and I was used to going to bed early because of my job.  While watching a movie, I fell sound asleep with my head thrown back and my mouth wide open.  There was probably drooling involved.  The worst part was when I woke up.  When I'm woken up late and night, I don't completely wake up and tend to either repeat myself over and over or think everything is really funny.  That time it was the latter.  I still feel embarrassed thinking about it.  Fortunately, I married into a polite family and they will likely never mention it again.

6. What is your favorite smell?
Freshly mown grass because it means the weather is warm.  During the long, dreary winter, I make do with the scent of freshly baked bread.

I see some of the people linking up with Kendra are also doing the What I Wore Sunday linkup too.  I won't be doing that for several reasons.  1) I own exactly 2 summertime church outfits so that would get really boring really quickly, 2) Despite diet and exercise, I still can't shake these extra 30 pounds (thank you perimenopause), and 3) I saw a five year old at church today sitting a few pews up wearing the exact same outfit.  I'm not yet sure how I feel about that.  I'm trying to convince myself it makes me seem more youthful, but it's not working.....

Hopefully, I'll make a few decisions this week and get back to blogging more consistently.  In the meantime, go read Kendra's answers at Catholic All Year.

Catherine Thérèse

Today is June 1st.  June is my favorite month of the year.  Everything is green.  The sunshine is warm, but the air is not yet too humid.  All the summer activities are new and fun. Most years I pester Jon by counting down the days till June and reminding him how much I love this month.  Not this year.  Not once this spring have I talked about how excited I am about June arriving.

Today is June 1st.  It's a Monday, so the girls and I did our weekly grocery shopping and errand running.  Jon, being the good steward of our money that he is, paid the bills and updated our finances.  Neighbors mowed lawns and kids played outside.  Just another normal day.

Except that today is June 1st.  While the day goes on as normal and I've tried to keep busy, my thoughts keep returning to what I once thought would be happening today.

Today is June 1st.  The due date of the baby I miscarried in October.  I know that chances are high, that even if she had lived, today would not be her birthdate.  She might have been like Meredith who arrived a week early (and self-delivered!).  She might have been like Jocelyn and stayed an extra week or two snuggled up inside me, reluctant to leave her familiar surroundings for parts unknown.  I'll never know when her birthdate would have been, so I've clung to June 1st as that date.

I've been dreading this day for the last 7.5 months, mostly because I didn't know what the day would bring.  I'm a planner.  I like to know what to expect and I couldn't plan this day.  I couldn't even plan what I wanted to happen.  Would it be better to spend the day crying and mourning my baby?  Or would it be better to just move through the day pretending that nothing had happened?  I didn't know.  Reading the experiences of others didn't seem to help.  Most people who have written about this speak of how grateful they are to know that their babies are in heaven.  Most of those people are also writing from the perspective of having had a successful subsequent pregnancy.

So how is the day working out for me?  I AM happy my baby is in Heaven.  I am also sad that my arms are still empty and will likely remain that way.  I am happy that I was given the gift of not encountering one pregnant belly or newborn baby while running errands this morning - I can't remember the last time that happened.  I am thankful that my girls have sensed (without my having said a word) that I needed good behavior from them today.  Mondays are often our roughest day of the week.  Today, both girls have complied with every request I've made of them without complaint and have played together without any bickering.  I am sad that I am the only one who remembers what today is.  I don't expect anyone else to remember (or even to have known in the first place) but I do so hate that no one but me and maybe Jon will remember that she existed.

So, because of that, please indulge my need to share what little information I have of my baby's short life......or don't....that's the beauty of reading this, right?  You can just click away if I start to bore you and I'll never know.

Jocelyn's drawing of our baby in Heaven with the angels

The story starts on September 25, 2014.  I was 4 days late, but due to my bad history with pregnancy tests, I was reluctant to take one.  My chart was all over the place that month and it looked a lot like that of someone with PCOS.  That's one of the few infertility diagnoses I don't have and I was angry that I might have it.  I had also started a new herbal supplement that was supposed to help some with my endometriosis but can sometimes interfere with your cycle.  I was angry that I'd found something that had made me feel better in such a short time, but now might be making other things worse.  After 4 days of waiting, I gave in and bought a pregnancy test.

As I sat in the bathroom waiting for the inevitable negative result, I was angry that I was forced to stare at one more negative test.  Then, as the timer wound down on the two-minute waiting period, a faint second pink line appeared.  I'd like to say that I was overwhelmed with excitement and happiness, but I wasn't.  I was - you guessed it - angry that I had managed to buy a faulty test that gave me a faint positive.  I was certain that I was going to get my hopes up and then the blood test would show that I wasn't really pregnant after all.  When I was done sharing a few choice words with God, I looked back down at the test and saw that the faint line had darkened from a "maybe that's a line" to "yep, that's definitely a line".

At that point, excitement and a little panic set in.  I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the nurse to call me back, getting blood work done, and starting on progesterone injections.  After two years of trying, you'd think that I would have had an elaborate, or at least fun, way to share the news with Jon, but I didn't.  I just sort of blurted it out after dinner when the girls were in another room.  He was shocked, but happy, and I of course managed to ruin the moment by pointing out that we shouldn't get too excited because I could lose the baby (just like I did a few months later with my fourth pregnancy).

The next few days were some of the happiest days of the last few years of my life.  I was happy to experience each of the pregnancy symptoms I had.  I was happy to not feel a need to bypass or avert my eyes when walking past the baby aisles at stores.  I was thrilled to notice that the owl pellets we dissected at co-op made me queasy like the other two expectant moms in the group.  I was so excited that in a few weeks, I could finally share a pregnancy announcement with my Bible study group.  Despite my warning to Jon, I googled fun ways to share our news at Thanksgiving with our relatives and at Christmas with everyone else. 

On October 1st, I noticed that I was cramping all day long.  I was mildly worried, but since I have always had what my doctor refers to as a "cranky uterus" I figured I was probably just not drinking enough, or I was holding Meredith too much or something minor like that.  The next day I had no cramping at all and I waffled between feeling like the previous day's cramping was just one day of normal stretching and growing and feeling like something was wrong.  On Friday, the girls and I headed to our homeschool co-op where the main activity for the day was dissecting earthworms.  The other two pregnant moms needed to take breaks from or avoid this activity all together.  I noticed that the smell was not bothering me at all, nor did I feel queasy or in need of a snack all morning long.

The rest of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I continued to have minimal symptoms.  I was queasy only if I really thought about being queasy.  I wasn't falling asleep on the couch at 7:30 any more.  I had a few symptoms but they all seem to be lessening in intensity and frequency.  Sunday evening, however, I felt so nauseated I couldn't even move off of the couch for an hour or so.  I remember telling Jon that I had been worrying for no reason.  This baby was obviously doing just fine.

I don't remember anything about Monday October 6th, until bedtime.  Jon was already in bed, asleep, when I woke him up to tell him I was bleeding.  I had bled some with Meredith early in that pregnancy, and while I was worried, I never felt certain that I was losing her.  I knew immediately with this pregnancy that I was having a miscarriage.  That was absolutely one of the longest, hardest nights of my life.  Jon stayed up with me trying to comfort me.

Jon stayed home the next day and we shared the news with family and friends.  My doctor's office was closed that day but I was able to speak with the doctor who felt that I was not miscarrying.  By the afternoon the bleeding had subsided and I felt both foolish for telling everyone I'd miscarried when maybe I hadn't and angry that my doctor was telling me that I wasn't miscarrying when I knew deep down I was.  It's another day I don't remember much about.

At the end of the week I had an ultrasound that confirmed the miscarriage.  It was a horrible experience, and yet, I'm so glad I have the pictures from that day.

I began having contractions the following Monday and after nearly 24 hours, the miscarriage was complete.  I was unable to find the baby.  The fact that I had to throw my baby in the trash is something I still haven't been able to get over.  I don't know if I ever will.  I know her soul is in Heaven, but I really wish I had been able to provide her with a more respectable burial place for her body.

I feel very strongly that the baby died on October 1.  For that reason, Jon and I chose to name her Catherine Thérèse.  Catherine after Saint Catherine of Siena, patron saint of miscarriages and Thérèse after Saint Thérèse of Lisieux whose feast day is October 1. 

If you're still reading after all of that, thank you for allowing me to share.  There is still a little bit of June 1st left.  I'm going to spend it folding laundry, making dinner, seeking the intercessory prayers of our two saints in Heaven, and playing with the two children we have here on Earth.

Tomorrow is June 2nd.  Just another normal day.  It's going to be sunny.  We're going to play outside and paint the screen door and go to Jazz in June.....and all the while a part of my heart will still be left on June 1st.

Sunday Funnies....on a Thursday

So I was planning to post all of these snippets of conversations with the girls on a Sunday when everyone is busy with family and not reading blogs.  They are probably only funny to Jon and me and maybe Jon's parents, but it's my blog and I can subject you to whatever boring topic I want.  Today it's dark and rainy and my mood matches.  Time to find something to smile about.  It's possible I'm also posting because my other alternative is to finish cleaning the storage room and the area under the stairs in the basement.

If you're in the mood for reading quotes from other people's children read on.  If not, then close the tab and move on to something more interesting.  That's the nice thing about the internet.  I can babble on and on all I want and no one is feeling like they are trapped on the couch unable to get away from me.

Anyway.  Funny kid conversations.  And commentary from me because...well...I like to talk.  Here you go....

Mer: Happy Smother's Day!
Completely appropriate coming from Meredith as she is clingy and I struggle with clingy.

Jocie:  Meredith, stop spitting.  That’s not nice!

Mer (blowing raspberries): I’m not spitting…. I’m cleaning off my tongue.

Me:  Mer are you picking my flowers again?

Mer: No.

Me:  Then why is there a flower in your hand?

Mer: (long pause) I don’t know.  Hmm.
 

For the last few months, Meredith has been regressing back to two-year-old behavior during church every week.  We've made some changes and it's getting better.  This was the conversation we had prior to the first week of better behavior at Mass.

Me: Are you going to be good at church today?

Mer: Yes!

Me:  And how do you do that?

Mer:  Be disrespectful…...

ONE WEEK LATER...

Me: How are you going to behave at church today?

Mer: Good!

Me: And how do you do that?

Mer:  Be disobedient.

Meredith isn't the only child who struggles with being good around here.  A few nights ago shortly before bedtime, Jocie was sent to time-out for failing to follow directions.

Me:  You need to go to time-out for not following directions.

Jocie(defiantly):  Then I'm SLAMMING the door.

Me (calmly):Then you'll go to bed instead of time-out.

Jocie (just as defiantly):  Then I'm NOT slamming the door.

Snark and sarcasm are my go-to defense mechanisms.  Snarky comments also tend to slip out when people ask silly questions.  I'm working on controlling that.  Sometimes I fail.

Mer: Are we going to eat those muffins?

Me: Nope.  We’re just going to look at them.  Don’t you think that will be fun?
Jocie: Actually we’re going to bake them first and THEN we’ll look at them.
 

I wasn't sure if Jocie was really in on the joke until a few days later, when I overheard this conversation...

Setting: Jocie was playing with felt food cookies.  She was adding sequin "sprinkles" to each frosted cookie when Meredith showed up and snatched the bag of sprinkles.  Jocie blew a fuse and both girls were reminded to find a way to work out their differences. 

Mer:  Tell me how many sprinkles I can have and I'll count them out.

Jocie:  Count to zero.

The city is doing some work on the sidewalks and so our normally busy street is closed off for a few days.   We walked up the street near where they were working yesterday and Meredith learned something new.

Mer:  How come they put a bank up there?

Me:

Mer: How come they put a bank there?

Me:  You mean the orange barricades? What bank??

Mer:  That green one up there in that street.

Me: Oh.  That’s not a bank.  That’s a portapotty.

 

 Meredith likes to sing to herself while she's playing.  I overheard this song the other day while she was coloring in her Sesame Street book.  It was quiet and I wasn't sure I'd heard the words accurately.  When I questioned her about it, she said the words were right, but it was Ernie singing to Cookie Monster.  The tune is The Farmer in the Dell.

Mer/Ernie:  Your mouth is way too big,

                        Your mouth is way too big
                        Your mouth, your mouth, your mouth, your mouth, 

                        Your mouth is way too big.

Me: Mer, you’re kind of crazy!

Mer:  You know……..I AM.

And just to prove it, she sang this while playing a few days ago:

Mer: Ring around the rosie, 

          A pocket full of craaaaa-zy, 

          Ashes, ashes, 

          We all fall down.


And on that note, I'll wrap this up (FINALLY- are you starting to get that trapped on the couch feeling?).  We're going to head outside to ride our bikes to the neighborhood park and try not to incur a head injury while playing on the wet and slippery climbing apparatus.  It's either that or stay inside and read.  Jocie managed to find and check out A Baby Sister For Frances AND Franklin's Baby Sister during today's trip to the library, so I think we'll risk the trip to the park.

Gratuitous unrelated photo so the header doesn't show when I share this post!