A Few Wednesdays Ago.

It was pretty chilly. Okay, too cold for me. But a little girl wanted to pretend it was warm, so I said yes. We had fun on the swings and even enjoyed a frosty popsicle on the front porch.

I was freezing.

A Post of Yesterday.

I am loving the longer days and the sun, sun, sun! We spent a lazy evening bumming around the pond and the front yard. We found almost 30 golf balls! Oh the fun we have at the Mason House.

Everything is so nice and green, and still only a sneak peek of the spring to come. This week the temperatures will be in the mid-upper-70's. gasp!

This means OFF with the trampoline cover and ON with a little blondie who loves to jump.

Part III

Yes, this is long. But this is the last part. I promise. I want to get this out and then move on.

I spent Friday night thinking I was over dosing from the two Vicodin. Not a great feeling when I was alone in the house with Hallie. No Dave. I couldn't sleep because my heart was pounding in my ears the entire night and my back suddenly felt like it was breaking in half. I couldn't get comfortable and the cramps were increasing.

I was burning hot and finally at 5:30am called Dave. Because, you know, he had to work. In Missouri. Great timing. He called his mom, who showed up with my four-year-old niece (sorry!) and they went to the couch to wait for Hallie to wake up. I was really, really feeling bad. I mean, BAD, and called my dad at 6am and told him to get in the truck and get here now. And he did. No questions. Just drove.

He rolled in around 9-ish, took one look at me and asked where he could find a themometer. I was at 102.7 and realized that I had started bleeding. A lot. We called the doctor, who told me to head to the ER to do blood work and other tests to see if there was infection and to make sure they had gotten everything on Wednesday.

The entire time, I honestly thought I had just overdone it with the cleaning and company Friday night. I was sure I would get there and they would tell me it was normal and fine and to go home and rest. I was wrong.

As it turned out, they did NOT get everything on Wednesday. And on top of that, I had a lovely infection too. I was overjoyed. They wanted to get me into another D&C right away. I couldn't believe this was happening. Dave was gone and not due home until 8pm that night. I still can't believe it. Thank goodness my dad was there, and I had friends texting me and praying for me the entire time.

They did another D&C, but because I had eaten a damn granola bar at 10am, they had to do general anesthesia and shove a tube down my throat. I woke up and this time could feel the pain. No spinal block to help me forget there were lots of things hurting in there. I got to feel it all. And I was exhausted. My wonderful friends and mother-in-law came by to see me, and by 6pm I was begging to go home. And I do mean begging. If I was going to be in pain, I wanted to be in pain at home.

So we picked up different pain medication and headed on home. And when Dave walked in the door at 7pm (a whole hour early!), I felt myself finally relax. We again snuggled up on the couch until I just had to sleep. And so sleep, I did.

I woke up and just felt pain. Cramps, oh the cramps. I tried to not take the maximum amount of pain medication and quickly realized there was no sense in that. So I maxed it out that entire day, and I am serious when I say that it only slightly touched the pain. I was in bed by 7pm that night and slept until 11am the next day. I felt like I had a cloud over my head that entire day.

And then by that night I started feeling better.

And then better.

And better.

And today I am even better. Emotionally, still a bit raw. But we are moving on and looking forward to trying for a baby again. The three-month wait seems like forever, but it's just a drop in the bucket compared to everything we have been through up to this point.

This whole experience feels like it did not actually happen. Every time I look at the huge bruise on my hand from my first IV, I'm surprised. Like, wow. It all really did happen. I lost a baby, endured two surgeries and I am okay. I made it through and now it's time to move on.

I'm glad to write this out. It's not something I will ever forget and never want to forget. I have read stories on other blogs about women who I admire's miscarriages and trials similar to what I have gone through. Reading their stories made me realize that I wanted to write out my story too. So I did, and here it is.

Part II

Whew.

So we went back in on March 16th. I had cramped during the week, but nothing out of the ordinary. I thought a few times that the miscarriage was beginning, but it didn't. We showed up at the doctor's office a bundle of nerves, but we were in good spirits, even joking around.

They got us right in and you could see there was no growth. And this time, there was no heartbeat. I was strangely calm and we just talked about options. He scheduled our D&C for the next day (so quick!) and we headed over to the hospital to do bloodwork and meet with the anesthesiologist. The rest of the day went by really quickly and it seemed like it was time for the surgery before I was actually ready for it.

We arrived at the hospital, and I got changed. They gave me warm blankets...I was shivering underneath that stupid tiny gown. I was a mess of hormones. I felt like I could cry at anything. I felt like the nurses were all giving me pitying looks and it just all seemed too much. They finally wheeled me back to pre-op, to give me my IV and ask me for the hundredth time what my birthday was. It's March 11th by the way. It was a really fun birthday. Not.

I was going pretty good, but it was taking a long time for the doctor to show up. I must have been pretty chatty, because they asked me a few times if I wanted sedation. I did not, thank you very much. The nurse knew my husband and said how sorry she was that we were going through this. And then I cried. Just a little. And then I got control.

The doctor arrived and they took me back. I could taste something sort of metallic when they gave me the la-la-land drugs, and I remember leaning forward to do the spinal block. And that's IT. So long, farewell. Keri had left the building.

I woke up and asked immediately for Dave. The brought him in right away (thank goodness) and we sat together while I waited for my butt to stop being numb. I couldn't leave until I peed and I couldn't pee until I could feel my butt. All I wanted to do was be at my home. Just get me home.

It took FOREVER, and I finally just said I could feel enough and to please help me stand up. I almost bit the dust a few times, but I finally settled onto the potty and....about 10 minutes later I think my body just felt sorry for me and did it. Thanks, body.

They ripped out my IV (ouch) and taped it so tight I looked at Dave like - UGH. But then we were out the door (in a wheelchair) and headed home. Or, CVS for medicine, Subway for supper and THEN home. I was starving, by the way. They didn't let me have clear liquids after 6:30am and my surgery was at 2pm. God bless Dave, he set his alarm at 6:15am and brought me a bowl of jello. And then I snuck two spoonfuls at 8:30. I'm such a rebel.

So I got home and snuggled up to Dave on the couch. I was still pretty numb, so I was feeling pretty good. I went to bed early and only had minimal cramping the next day. As the week went on, I was feeling really good. I took it easy until Friday, when I decided to clean my house for some friends who were coming over to keep me company. I wore my stupid self out. I was wiped out when they were here and just started feeling pretty crampy.

So I took two vicodin that night. Hey - that's allowed!

But then things got really bad. Awesome.

A Post I'm Not Sure I Want To Post.

(I decided all caps was better than no caps for the title. Do you agree?)

This is a pretty hard post to write. I'm going to go ahead and compose it and then see if I actually push to publish at the end.

Part I:
Dave and I decided last March that we were ready to expand our family. Give Hallie someone to beat up on and adore. We had it timed perfectly so that the baby would be born late fall/early spring. Much better than smack-dab in the middle of summer, which is Mason Sound crazy time. Which is when we had Hallie, ha ha.

So we tried. And tried. And TRIED. I mean, I recorded my temperature daily, knew when I was ovulating, timed things perfectly and...nothing. At this point I knew WAY too much about cervial mucus and cycle days and...yeah. Now, Dave's schedule didn't help the process much. We might have one or two good days a month. One month we had zero chance. And I get that.

But damnit, I was impatient. I wanted a sweet baby to hold and adore and watch Hallie be the big sister she has always wanted to be. It just was not meant to be, I suppose.

Until...

February 8th. At last. At LONG last. Pregnancy. I found out I was pregnant 10 days after my LMP, so pretty darned early. So it was going to be a long pregnancy, and that's okay. We were thrilled. I mean, I was over the moon, thrilled. We started telling a few people. I just couldn't resist telling the people that had been along for this ride with me. And ultimately, I'm glad we did.

March 8th. We showed up for the first ultrasound. So excited and nervous! I had been feeling cramping and just like something might just be not right. I think it's normal to be nervous, but....

Anyway, I had the wrong date. Appointment wasn't until tomorrow. Awesome.

March 9th. Appointment. Dave and I chatted while we waited for the doctor. Laughed during the obligatory pap and then got quiet when the sonogram started. And right away I could see. I should have been 7 weeks 2 days. I knew when I ovulated. I knew when I conceived. And the baby was not as big as it should have been I could tell right away. In fact, it was measuring at 6 weeks 2 days.

And that's not all. I had a large hemmorhage in my uterus, which caused an awful lot of blood to form on the left side.

And that's not all. The placenta wasn't attached but for forty percent. And that's when I knew it wasn't going to be a viable pregnancy.

But there was a heartbeat. Very faint. Slow. So faint they couldn't pick it up on the microphone. But because there was a heartbeat, we scheduled an appointment for a week later to check to see if there was any growth.

The rest of the day was a complete blur. I was a wreck. I had to call my mom and tell her. She didn't even know I was pregnant at that point. I was going to surprise her on my birthday when she came in. That was a tough phone call. We had to tell friends and family and ask for prayers. Not all hope was gone, but the doctor had basically laid it out there and told us to prepare ourselves.

In my heart I knew it was over.

Coming Soon.

New posts. I promise.

This Week.

This is my birthday week, so I have decided to take a break from the blog for this week.

Happy birthday to me!

Reckless Driving.

I hope this is not a sign of what's to come.

I mean...the outfit, yes.

But driving while on the cell phone? Just plain dangerous.

Hallie, it's time to hang up.

Both hands on the wheel, please!!!

Chef Snow White

Can you believe I finally found my camera cord??

I was dreading blogging, because I'm a girl of few words. Less words, more pictures - that's my motto!

So this morning I thought - okay. that is it. I have to find this darned camera cord. I was literally on my hands and knees in my office. Searching.

I found it. Finally. In the same place I had searched a million times before.

Of course.

Monday Meal Plan (March 1 - whatever).

I feel like I have nothing to blog about. We have been busy hanging out with friends, cleaning up the house and soaking up the time with Dave until he starts getting busy again...like, Tuesday.

Blah.

But for now, here's what we have cookin' this week (not much!):

Today: Crockpot Brown Sugar Chicken (new recipe!)

Tuesday: Stromboli

Wednesday: leftovers

Thursday: Casey's Pizza

Friday: nothing. I have an artshow, so it's fend for yourself.