Mixed Bag Of Rant

So, this is 38.

In my sleep deprived state of living, I barely even realized that my birthday was upon me. I made no real plans (nor did I really want to). It’s possible even my husband forgot. My wants this year were simple: to have a family dinner together OUTSIDE of the house and for some flipping sleep.

As I sat rocking my daughter back to sleep last night, sobbing from pure exhaustion, it dawned on me the REAL reason why having a kid after 35 is frowned upon. I’m too fucking old for this! Once upon a time, even as recent as the last couple of years, I could pull the late nights. Now? They are off the table. Lucky for my daughter, she is ridiculously adorable and instead of crying for hours? She laughs, smiles and baby talks for hours on end in the middle of the night.

The last year was such a trip. I mean, seriously. I am continually amazed how quickly life can change.

I’ve talked a lot about how things are different this time with baby number 2. Probably one of the biggest differences is that I never looked back on how it was “before” baby. You know… the ability to get up and leave the house without a second thought. A trip to Target that used to be a chore is now an escape. Being able to stay up late and sleep in the next day. All of those things (and many others) go away when you have kids. Priorities change.

I have spent the better part of the last year apologizing for pretty much everything. My inability to go out places because I was sick and pregnant. My lack of desire to WANT to do anything because of being sick and pregnant. I’m not apologizing anymore. I am CHOOSING to be selfish. I am CHOOSING my family above all other things. Not because I have to. Because I WANT to. It’s all about them!

It may seem as though I would need to escape from my home, as if I need a break from it all. Making plans for a night on the town? It’s actually kind of stressful. I need to make sure my husband doesn’t have plans. I need to make sure there is nothing going on the next day because god knows at my age, I’ll need recovery time. I need to get over the guilt of leaving my children and leaving my husband alone with the children. For now, it’s all just… too much. It’s easier just to say no. So, again, I won’t apologize for asking people to come to me at this juncture in my life. I won’t apologize for putting myself and my family before anyone else.

I spent a lot of years bending over backwards for a lot of people in my life because I felt as though that is what I had to do to keep them close. What I have learned is that the this door should swing both ways. I have a new baby and it may be a little selfish, but I expect people to come to me right now.

At 38, I’m too old and too tired to deal with BS.

At 38, I know exactly who I am and have no regrets.

At 38, I have the best gifts of all in my children and I cannot wait to get to them at the end of the day.

At 38, I don’t need bars, booze and clubs. I don’t need to party and get drunk.

At 38, I long for the companionship of those who “get” what it’s like to be a full-time working mom.

At 38, I WILL get my pre-pregnancy body back.

At 38, I will run my first 10K and maybe even my first 10 mile and not be afraid to ask for help in doing it.

My first race of 2014, the Get In Gear, is under my belt. I was slow. I was injured. But I did it. I love my Sole Sisters who cheered me on the whole way!

At 38, I will be fearless. 

It’s amazing to me how different it is this time around.

I suffered a pretty good bout of PPD with Jackson. For the first year of his life, I was not myself. While I don’t have excuses, there are a lot of reasons why I had PPD. Sure, a baby is a huge life change not to mention you know hormones, but we also moved homes while I was in the hospital with him. We left the home that marked the beginning of our married life and I went home to a brand new house with a baby in tow. It was as if someone had stolen my entire life and replaced it with this new one. Jackson was jaundiced and had to sleep on the bili bed 24/7 (which he hated). He was collicky. He wouldn’t breastfeed no matter how much counseling or help I received. He went into failure to thrive territory and I was forced into formula feeding. I was spewed on for formula feeding. I was a disaster! When the time came to bring him to daycare, I was more than ready. I felt like the most clueless first time parent ever, so I was actually RELIEVED to go back to work. WTH?? What mother feels that way?? I look back on my experience with my sweet boy and all I feel is horror and regret. Once he got out of the baby phase, started talking (and SLEEPING), I started to enjoy him as well as motherhood. I constantly feel like I am making up for that lost time and never miss an opportunity to tell him how much I love and adore him. I always, ALWAYS feel sad that I didn’t enjoy him more as a baby.

It was one of the reasons I wanted another baby so badly. I wanted another chance.

My other chance, by the grace of God, is here and I am not wasting a single moment with her. My maternity leave was full of snuggles and baby talk. I didn’t worry (and frankly didn’t care) if I got anything “done” around the house. I had 12 weeks to make the best of our time together and I can honestly say I did just that. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed her so much and was so attached that the thought of going back to work seemed to physically break my heart. I’m glad that my husband does the daycare drop off with her because, in these first few weeks back, I don’t know if I could have handed my precious baby over to anyone else. I miss her every single day. All day. I cannot get to daycare fast enough to hold her and give her kisses. I feel like she has changed so much and that I am somehow missing it. It seems as if she is one person when I leave her and then when I pick her up and she’s out of nowhere babbling and smiling. She rolling over. She’s no longer a newborn but an infant. Why is this going so fast? Dear Time: slow down! She is my last baby!

I’ve dabbled with the idea of staying home in the past. Mostly because I was unhappy and unfulfilled in my prior job and not necessarily because I had this deep desire to be a SAHM. For the first time ever, I really THOUGHT about it. After getting that first daycare bill, I REALLY thought about it. I imagined what it would be like to be with her every day. To hold her whenever I want. To teach her baby signs. To watch her grow and be the first person to see all of her new milestones and “firsts”. To go on jogs with her in the park. I imagined my son being able to be home with us all summer before starting 1st grade this fall (which is a total WTF moment in and of itself. 1st grade? What?).

However… despite the serious gouging we received after the first bi-weekly daycare withdrawal (which by the way we pay more for daycare than we do our mortgage), we still need my money and my ridiculously amazing health benefits. Despite the deep hole in my heart from missing my baby every day, I know she’s in good hands. And crazy enough? I actually really love my job. For the first time ever, I get to manage a program that I am passionate and excited about. The opportunity in front of me to expand my career right now is huge and if I bail even for a short time, I will miss that boat and I have worked so very hard. I shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting that, right? Because, I do.

Most days I don’t get to see my baby girl before I leave in the morning, but my husband with time permitting, will send me pictures of her to oogle over during my bus ride. Fortunately, I do get to see my baby boy- if I were to leave without saying goodbye to him? He would have the worst day and would NOT let me live it down.

One of the sweet pictures I received in the morning

I was fortunate enough to be home in the morning when he lost his first tooth this week!

I love both my kids so, so hard. It is a mental struggle to leave them every day, but I feel like continuing to be a working mom, they get the best mom out of me. While it was harder than ever to make the decision this time around, I am confident that I made the right choice.

He still cuddles with me. Please tell me that doesn’t change???

But sometimes he would rather cuddle with his sister and I swear my heart explodes with love.

Before I begin this post, I want to explain why I am sharing this extremely personal experience with the entire universe. I feel like infertility is a taboo subject. Most women find it too personal and too painful to talk about. I feel that way too in many ways, but I also want other women who may be going through the same thing to know: YOU ARE NOT ALONE. We don’t have to suffer in silence. We have each other.

I went in for my annual appointment with my OB. For most women this is a routine annoyance in their day. The appointment that every woman hates. Go ahead, ladies. Tell me you actually ENJOY this appointment!

This appointment was far from routine for me. I knew I was going to ask her about having another baby. I knew the answer may not be what I want to hear. I was on edge. My blood pressure was through the roof. I was nervous.

So I got around to telling my doc that we really want to have a second baby and I literally LOL’d when she said, “So what do you want to do, wing it?” Ummmm… Let’s see. It took 2.5 years to conceive Jackson. We have been trying on and off for FOUR YEARS for this one. I think I’ve been winging it long enough. Not to mention, this woman did surgery on me. Took my tube. Took my ovary. I’m thirty freaking six years old. There will be no winging it for me. She kind of apologized and said she in no way sees me as 36 with limited years of fertility left (if any). Which I guess is a compliment? Thanks for not calling me an old hag? I’ll take it.

I will spare you the details of the exam, but I will tell you, the results were not entirely good. My remaining ovary is swollen. I have tenderness. What does that mean? It means the endo is winning. So what happens next? My OB will do the baseline studies to check and see if I have a viable ovary. I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week to make sure that my remaining ovary does not have a growing endometrioma (ovarian cyst). If I do? It’s game over. My ovary will likely need to be removed and I will need to proceed with a full hysterectomy.

If everything looks okay, then we will move to the next phase which consists of a follicle study which is basically a series of ultrasounds to see if my ovary is functioning correctly leading up to ovulation. If all looks good, we will schedule a lap surgery to remove any endo and I will then be referred to a fertility specialist to proceed with IVF.

If it seems like a lot to go through, you’re right. It is. Then why? In a promise to myself, I want to live my life without regret. I know if I don’t take the steps to try and complete our family, I will always wonder, what if?  I have to try.

Even if I end up without a baby, I will know in my heart I did everything I could. Plus, I will feel good about taking control of my own health. Pushing my doctors to use their knowledge to find a solution. Not settling for the answer “You’ll just have to live with it.” That isn’t good enough for me.

So until I get a more definitive answer, I will continue to stay positive and keep the faith.

I think Jackson would prefer a playmate that actually interacts with him.

I have been compiling in my head all of the many reasons why I want Jackson to have a sibling. Compiling the reasons why I would be crazy enough to want another baby. In my head, the pros outweigh the cons. Most women are able to say, “I want another baby!” and WHAM they are pregnant. It doesn’t work that way for me. I am missing half the plumbing not to mention, I suffer from a debilitating disease that has caused years of pain and infertility. My only hope to complete my family and fulfill my dreams is to go through IVF for baby #2.

There are however a lot of reasons not to do it and these are my rebuttals.

Let’s start with the whole health thing. In my head, the pros outweigh the cons by a mile. You know… no biggie. If I try to have another baby I’ll either miscarry or destroy my womanhood forever (which was bound to happen whether I tried to have another baby or not). So from a health perspective alone (let’s not discuss the mental anguish that goes with having a miscarriage), I may as well give this another go, yes? One of the biggest factors I didn’t attempt IVF for baby #1 is because of my weight. BMI supposedly plays a big factor in the IVF process. I believe it is recommended to have a BMI under 30 to increase success. Regardless of that BMI number (which I think is kind of a load of crap anyway), I am 1,000 times healthier than I was when I was TTC the first time around and now have a healthy BMI of 25 to boot. I have to believe that will make a difference.

Finances. IVF is fucking expensive yo. I sat down and thought about my next new car which I am due for in a couple years. Now, if I can afford a Lexus, I can afford to make a baby. Period. No doubt, it is painful to think about the expense of getting pregnant when others are so easily able to get knocked up at no cost at all. The truth is, the cost is an excuse. I do have some funds available through insurance. The majority of IVF is not covered, but I may be able to use it for some tests and drugs. Beyond that, there is always financing available. I simply cannot use money as an excuse not to try this.

Sibling rivalry. What if Jack and his new brother/sister end up hating each other? I hope that is not the case, but I am willing to take the chance that it will work out for the best. Jack has expressed his interest more than once about his desire for a brother or sister and his apparent confusion as to why his friends have one and he doesn’t. It breaks my heart. I honestly believe that he will be a great big brother and great helper for his mom and dad. I have gotten “the grass isn’t always greener on the other side” argument about keeping Jack an only child; however, despite the years of aggression my sister and I had for each other growing up, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything as we are close now as adults. I don’t want the fear of rivalry to dictate this choice.

Fertility Drugs. IVF requires a number of drugs to be taken, injected or whatever other means they intend to make eggs and babies. My history with fertility drugs is not a positive one. As is the case with most prescription medication, I am highly sensitive to them. If they list a side effect, I will likely experience it. There is also the weight gain that comes with the drugs. If it doesn’t work out, I’m left with an extra very unwanted 10-20 pounds and no baby. After my ridiculous amount of hard work over the last 2 years to lose weight, this does not excite me. If it DOES work out… I’ll be having a BABY and that will include some extra pounds anyway (although… this time around, I will hopefully have the willpower to pass up on my cravings for Burger King burgers). It’s worth a little bit of weight gain and a little bit of crazy to get my 2nd baby in my arms.

I recently got the chance to chat with an adult who was born from IVF back in the 80’s. He discovered me and my blog via Twitter and wanted to share his story with me. He provided me with a great deal of inspiration to add to my many reasons not to give up. He said, knowing what his mom had to go through to bring him into the world gives him purpose. I love that and heck if I don’t want to meet this guy’s mama- she sounds awesome. But it is so true- women who go through treatment or adoption to have a baby go to the ends of the earth to bring their babies into their hearts and into this world. It leaves little room for doubt- these babies are MEANT to be here.

With all of this said, it is not an easy decision. It will affect my mind, my body and my family. I may not get the answer I want to hear. I may be wheeled in a week later to have a full hysterectomy. Regardless, what I need the most in my infertility chapter is true closure. Not a list of stats. A simple yes or no will do.

Exhausted and half asleep, I went to my weigh in on Monday feeling confident.

Little did I know, I was down an astounding 3 pounds. Weighing in at 154, I am just 4 pounds from my goal.

WHAT?

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would see the 150’s again. It is even a little hilarious that I am still considered “overweight” according to the BMI charts. Someone at work actually told me I was looking too thin. I’ve never heard anyone say THAT to me before.  I know for many of my co-workers, the new me is very different from the obese girl they have known for the last 5 years. I just say, I am becoming me. The me I am supposed to be.

Celebrating Mother’s Day: 

My sweet Godson, Connor

Snuggles With Connor

 For the first time ever on Mother’s Day, I was willing to smile for the camera as I snuggled with my baby nephew. I was wearing a pair of low rise jeans from Express (which by the way I haven’t been able to wear Express jeans for over a decade and I actually got teary-eyed in the dressing room trying them on) and a black angel sleeve Gap tee with a satin ribbon around my now tiny waist. The entire day I felt like a pretty mommy. I also brought all of my too large clothes for the women in my family to sift through. An important decision I made in my journey was to give away or consign all of my clothing. I figure psychologically, if I don’t have my large sizes around, I’ll never be compelled to stray from my goal weight again. The best part of my Mother’s Day was going to see my favorite band Daughtry at a small club in Minneapolis. I was dolled up from head to toe. Still wearing my low rise jeans but now with a sparkly tank with hair and makeup to perfection, I felt like a very hot mama. I felt confident. Sexy. Amazing. I am becoming me.

Jackson adores his cousin.

Being so close to goal, my counselor this week encouraged me to start mentally prepping for my transition out of Medifast. With an excited smile, I told her I have been prepping for transition for WEEKS. With my recent discovery of how bad soy protein is for my endo, it is important for me to wrap this diet up so I can start focusing on what “real” food I will need to start eating to control my condition. The first week on transition I will get to add in veggies that were previous not allowed on the plan, when she asked me what I plan to add in I exclaimed, “CORN ON THE COB”. Yum. My husband is excited.

My mom w/ her grandbabies

It is very important for me to remember that the journey doesn’t end simply because Medifast ends. I will have to continue watching my portions, making smart choices and exercising. I’m certain I will not always be perfect. I want to show everyone who made negative comments about Medifast and my weight loss that I can lose the weight and keep it off. Yes, someone told me I shouldn’t bother because I will gain it all back. Nice, huh? I think it was meant to be a dig on the Medifast program, but in a lot of ways, it was a dig on me. What does that say about me? My weight gain didn’t happen overnight. It happened over a DECADE. I will never let that happen again. I don’t want to spend the money to lose weight again. I don’t want to eat Medifast food ever again (no offense Medifast… I love you but I really miss human food).

I have become me and I’m never letting her go.

In November, I will become an Aunt for the 5th time. There is something special about being an Aunt. Before I had Jackson, I was an Auntie to two sweet boys. I adored babysitting them, going to their birthday parties and watching them grow. The best part seemed to be that I could hand them over when I had my fill. As an Aunt, you never have to deal with the hard stuff.

Last night, I was having a text conversation with my sister-in-law who is due in 7 weeks. She mentioned that she was worried about having everything she needed and “being ready” by the time baby arrives. All I could offer for advice was that somehow, it all comes together and works out. I also told her to prepare my brother for about a million trips to Target once they get home. You know, to get all the things you thought you wouldn’t need and ended up needing. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned how I had just finished up being elbow deep in a potty training poop disaster. Ooops.

I reminisced back to 3 years ago. Was I ready? Hell no. Not taking into account having Jack 3 weeks early which just so happened to be the day before we were to move into our new house and two days before my BFF was getting married, I was in no way ready for a baby to be in my world. I chuckle, because the last three years have been exactly just that. You can do all the planning in the universe to try and be ready, but what you really end up doing is playing it by ear. I’d like to take this moment to thank my mom bloggers, FF Sept/Oct 2008 mom community and slew of mommy friends who have been around to answer even the most stupid of questions for me.

I wish I could offer better baby preparedness advice. As a matter of fact, I might be a living example of what NOT to do. Keeping in mind, I had a few surprises thrown at me in the new baby department, here are a few words of wisdom:

• Pack your hospital bag. Doesn’t matter if you are 10 weeks or 2 weeks out. Get it packed. I was not packed. I had many regrets not to mention extremely stupid items in my bag when I opened it up after 12 hours of labor. Even if it means buying a cheap travel hairdryer and curling iron. Get it packed. 
• Buy a few newborn size outfits. Even if they tell you your baby is destined to be enormous. My poor little peanut was drowning in his 0-3 onesie on his way home. 
• Be ready to change directions. Convinced that breastfeeding was a piece of cake, I was unprepared and uneducated on anything regarding formula when I had to go in that direction. 3 different brands/types and about a hundred trips to Target, we finally got it together. 
• On that note. If you can’t breastfeed, don’t let ANYone make you feel bad about it. ANYone. You are mom. You know what’s best for your baby. Never forget that. 
• Diapers. Stock up. Buy a pack every week. You can never have too many freaking diapers. 
• Nursery not ready? Don’t sweat it. Jackson didn’t sleep in his crib until around 6 weeks (actually we didn’t even have a crib until after the first week). We had him in our room in the Pack & Play near our bed until then. The first week? I was in the living room with him while he slept (a.k.a. cried) in his Pack & Play in the billi bed (surprise! He had jaundice). I layed on the floor next to him all night long and cried. 
• We needed help after Jack was born because we had just moved into a brand new house. Furniture still needed to be assembled. Crap needed to be put away (I think there is still crap to put away). If you want to be alone with baby after you get home don’t be afraid to tell people to go the hell away. 

The most important advice I have is to not forget about YOU. I’m not going to sugar coat it. You are going to feel like crap when you get home. No matter which way baby comes out, you’re going to feel gross. You’ll be bleeding. A lot. (P.S. Grab as many of those mesh panties from the hospital as you can… you’ll be grateful for them throughout the first week). Epidural? My back hurt for weeks. Ice packs. Avoid stairs. Oh yes. You will cry. A lot. For no reason. Advice? Keep Kleenex handy. No TV programming is safe. You’ll cry watching commercials. I feel like so many women sweat the labor and delivery and don’t even think about how crappy the postpartum weeks can be.  

Final advice? You’ll never be ready. Never. In the last few weeks, kick back, let your hubby rub your sore & gigantic swollen feet, take a deep breath and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can.