Welcome Back, Me

So here I am again.

It's been a long time.

Solly is great. He's standing by himself. He started a crazy, eccentric, whole-armed wave which is adorable. I don't think he quite understands the pairing of this to hellos and goodbyes- being as he'll now wave to my pants, the wall, what have you. But it's pretty adorable nonetheless. He is eating well after a week-long hiatus from being sick. His transient favorites are currently de-skinned blueberries (a joy for me) and ground turkey. And cheese. Always okay with cheese. We love our family daycare. 4 kids at a time. Wonderful, wonderful- but it is a post in and of itself. We had a great visit to Portland to visit Amy, Jeffrey and of course my Hazard. I do think Hazard dislikes me, though... But since we've gotten back from the trip, at the encouragement from said awesome daycare lady, Leila, we've magically turned Solomon into Super Sleeper. And it's wonderful. I was skeptical of her antics, yes. And yes, it involves(ed, really) Solomon crying for up to ten minutes. I've previously been against CIO. Well, not 'against' so much as 'not for my family.' But I like to think of this more as 'cry for a few minutes' since he's really not just crying it 'out'. At least that's what I tell myself. Anyway, this magic trick gave me 3-4 hours of napping each weekend day, 11+hours of uninterrupted nighttime sleep (which we have only hinted at here and there in the last 3 months full of moving, sicknesses, developmental leaps, teething, and other random nonexcuses for NOT SLEEPING). But even more than this, this magic has given us the time back that we used to spend bouncing and shushing and rocking. And he's more rested, and happier. And everyone is happy and full of butterflies, flowers and cherries.

But here's the not so flowery side of life. I know I'm supposed to hide this and not talk about it. And I still don't want to talk about it. But I do want to write about it and get it off my chest because it's a lot to go through, and if someone else reads this after a several-month hiatus, so be it. Anyway, Gerard and I had wanted to expand our family quickly and have two little boos that were close in age. Like twins, but easier. So we found out last month that we were pregnant! I'll give the abbreviated version of this story. So, we're pregnant and thrilled and already fighting whether or not we'll find out the sex of little bee. We have our first dr. appointment. I'm nervous, because I hadn't felt any of the first trimester woes that had plighted my first pregnancy with booboo. So I go there, expecting to be like 6 weeks pregnant, see the little bean and hear the little heartbeat and bring home an ultrasound picture to match boo's at 6w1day. So I'm laying there, and I get asked, "So you got a positive pregnancy test at home? When did you say that was?" Not exactly encouraging words. I had a sac. A small, 4.5 wk-sized sac. Which pretty much meant I would have conceived the day of my positive pregnancy test. Being as this isn't possible, I faced the alternative: miscarriage. I got rewarded by being sent to the lab to get blood drawn, and ordered back as soon as I got home from Portland (this was a pain in and of itself. Solomon and I were exhausted after coming home. And the only lab open on that Monday, July 5- a holiday, was the hospital in Redwood City- 30 miles away!! Solomon literally burst into tears when he saw us head back towards the car. He cried almost the entire trip. Driving there, getting bloodwork, driving home. Awesome. Where is Gerard in this story, you ask? Oh, in the middle of another 90 hr work-week. I digress.) So I get my blood drawn on Monday, which is decidedly more than 48 hours from Thursday (for those without previous miscarriage woes, they like to see your hormone levels double per 48hr period), but I wasn't around on Saturday. I was in Portland. Anyway, my numbers had increased, which was good. But not as much as you'd expect. I got my blooddrawn again- this time 48 hours later. It was going up, but by like 30%, not 100. My doctor had a bit of renewed (but still reserved) hope, meanwhile I was still crying myself to sleep. So I go in later that week ( this time with a sweaty, tired husband!) and see a gestational sac- and tiny little yolk sac... and no baby. No fetal pole. No heartbeat. No baby. So I got my miscarriage papers. Told to wait two weeks. And just wait. she offers a sort of backhanded ray of hope- that this might continue to develop- at which point we'd have to do lots of genetic testing to see if this is really a healthy, viable pregnancy that should/could continue. So now I'm halfway through my two weeks of waiting. What do I even hope for at this point? A natural miscarriage so I don't have to get surgery? That nothing happens? That the pregnancy continues to develop in this gray matter into an un-viable pregnancy that will lead to a later (harder) miscarriage, or worse- still born? But then of course I stumbled upon the misdiagnosed miscarriage website, which quickly lead to obsessive wondering if a miracle could happen and give me a healthy baby. I don't know. Until then, I'm just sitting around waiting. I'm at the point where I've accepted the inevitable miscarriage. I just don't want to have to make a decision. I don't want to have to decide to do a d&c (with possible complications of fertility problems later), versus waiting naturally. I don't want to have to decide to keep a doomed pregnancy which will lead to more pain and heartache later. I don't want a decision. I want a clear-cut answer: Your body is doing this. You need to do this. There is no alternative. So I guess that's all I'm really 'hoping' for at this point. Though I do still have a glimmer of hope this is all a mistake and I have a miracle baby inside. But mostly, I just an easy, natural closure to this so that we can move on and try again.

But until then, I wait.