And I thought I liked roller coasters...

So yesterday sucked. Flat-out blew. Fat chunks. By bedtime, I was absolutely convinced that this pregnancy was over. DH and I tried to discuss the "positive" in the situation (not easy, let me tell you). We went to bed really early because I could feel a migraine coming on and I just was DONE with Monday, January 28th.

It's funny because the number "9" has always been my favorite number. If anyone ever has me "pick a number between 1 & 10" I invariably choose 9 (even though I NEVER win). My birth month is 9. Age 9 was my favorite year. The due date of this baby was to be in month 9. But, last night, I couldn't stop thinking about what a dirty bastard "9" was. That's a REALLY crappy number when it comes to hCG levels. My good friend "9" suddenly seemed to be turning on me.

I woke up this morning to find I hadn't bled *too* much overnight. It was pretty heavy this morning, though. I called the nurse at my OB's office because I couldn't stand not knowing if my level was actually only 9 or if it was short for something...like, say 9 HUNDRED. I told her about my bleeding (which I'll spare you the details of) and my slightly increased cramping and told her that I knew when we would have had to conceive and that I just didn't think "9" was indicative of anything good at this point. I asked if I should even waste my time with the bloodwork tomorrow. She didn't sound very hopeful at all. She said she'd call me back. (by the way -- is it a requirement to have social skills in the negative to work in an OB's office?)

FINALLY, she called me back and said that my doctor absolutely thought that a 9 could be a level reflective of where I should be with this pregnancy and that she didn't give much value to hCG charts vs. weeks pregnant -- she only cared about the numbers going up. So, my hope sparked a bit.

And now, the bleeding's all but stopped. Very slight spotting, but much, much less than in the past 36 or so hours. So, my hope's sparked a bit more. I'm still trying to remain realistic, but I'm praying and crossing everything I can cross that I hear good news tomorrow.

Lawrence is feeling better today, too. After his traumatizing breathing treatment that did nothing and a steroid shot that seemed pointless, he finally seems to be turning the corner. He still sounds like Darth Vader, but he's not coughing nearly as much.

Ugh. I'll be so glad when tomorrow's over. If someone could just fast-forward until the part where I know what the EFF is going on with my body, I'd really appreciate it. I'm sick of this stupid roller coaster ride.

Seriously, what ELSE?

So, yesterday morning, Lawrence developed croup. I thought his labored breathing, wheezing and horrible cough was the scariest thing ever.

And then I woke up this morning. With bright pink blood when I used the restroom.

I know some spotting can be okay in the first trimester. Shoot, I had it with Lawrence. But this was much more and much earlier and I just don't feel optimistic. As the day's gone on, it hasn't let up at all and it's gotten to be a brighter red. I don't really feel crampy, but I still don't think it's a good sign.

I sit here, listening to my poor baby wheezing through the monitor as he naps, thinking about the other baby inside of me that I may never know and not-so-patiently awaiting the call from the OB's office and the stress is unbearable. I can't explain it and someone that had never been through it wouldn't understand, but I already love this child. I haven't known about its existence for very long at all, but the thought of it being over before it ever really began is devastating. I can't help but wonder if I'd been less stressed about being pregnant and not worried so much if maybe it would have turned out okay. I know consciously that I can't blame myself, but I can't help but ask the "what ifs..." What if I hadn't drank caffeine? What if I hadn't been so stressed? What if I'd gotten more rest? Or eaten more? Or been thrilled from minute one?

I worried about my second pregnancy before it even happened. I'm surrounded by friends and family who've had healthy pregnancies and children. With the rates for miscarriage as they are, I just *knew* the odds were stacked against me.

I seem to run out of tears. I'm trying to be positive and remind myself that some people have bleeding and everything turns out fine, but I don't want to set myself up for an even farther plunge if the reality is that this pregnancy is over. It's been four hours now since the lab technicians stabbed me and poked around in my arms (yes, armS. I knew I wouldn't escape without at least one poke in each arm. Good thing I'm not an addict. My veins are autrocious) and I still haven't heard anything. I hate to be *that* patient -- the one that calls, what would that be? FIVE times in one day. I just need a plan. I need to know what the next step is. I need to know if it's okay to hope.

Sometimes you just need a good, ol' mental breakdown

So, I had a meltdown today. Thank God for mothers!

After nearly two entire days home alone, I'd just had it with Lawrence. My patience had run out and being nauseous, exhausted and stressed this morning + needed to get ready to go somewhere + Lawrence refusing his morning nap = basket case mommy. I yelled at him. And then felt like a total ass. And like the worst mother in the world. Which made me ponder, if I can't handle ONE, how in the world will I manage with TWO? I hugged my sweet baby and told him I was sorry and that it wasn't his fault and managed to pull it together. Until I saw my mom. At which point, I began sobbing. My mom's really great in that I know I can say anything...can just have uncontrolled, un-restrained verbal diarrhea...and she won't judge me (I pray that I can develop that amazing trait for my children). I let it all out and she listened and then said all the right things.

I have to say that now that I've expressed all my fears and anxieties -- now that they're "out there" -- I feel like I can really be excited about this little baby I'm growing inside of me. Strangely, I'm eleventy-billion times more nervous about this pregnancy. I'm so afraid that something's going to go wrong...like, my luck's run out or something. And even though we weren't expecting to be expecting quite so soon, I want this child SO BAD. I can't wait to hear his or her heartbeat and see him or her on the ultrasound, just so I know (s)he's okay in there. And I'd forgotten just how much I love being pregnant. I feel like I was made for this job! I'm already queasy and so tired, but I love it anyway. I love knowing that my body's not just mine (okay, that sounds kind-of creepy...but you know what I mean). I can't wait to get a big ol' giant belly that I can rest my hands (and plate) on. And hey! I already have stretch marks, so I don't even have to stress about that this time around!

I do wish that food sounded good, though. I hated that with Lawrence and I'm already feeling the guilt with this pregnancy. I just have an icky taste in my mouth and my stomach feels sour and I can't figure out what to eat, so I end up eating nothing (or something completely random like the chocolate chip cookies I just HAD to bake and eat the other day!) I know I should be eating nutritious meals to help nourish this baby, but yuck! Nothing sounds good and I'm afraid I'll barf if I make myself eat something. Last time, I lost 10lbs in the first trimester...and I didn't feel so sick so early...I hope that I'm able to figure something out to manage it with this pregnancy. Not only do I need to nourish this baby, but I need the energy to chase after my son!

Well, slap me silly and call me Fertile Myrtle!

Um, whoa! Apparently, Mike and I are the most fertile people on the planet. With Lawrence, we got pregnant with one "let's just see what happens..." And now this! We were avoiding (though, obviously not very well...)

Of course, we knew it was a possibility...we just never imagined that it would happen when I a) wasn't supposed to be fertile and b) from ONE time. And, sure, there have been little signs and symptoms the past couple weeks...and my period IS 5 days late...but I nearly passed out when I saw the "Pregnant" pop up!

So, going by my cycle, my due date's around 09.28.08. Going by conception date, it would be 10.02.08. We'll see what the doc says, I suppose. But, if everything goes well, Mike and I will joining the "two under two" club early fall (when Lawrence is just under 21 months old -- holyshit!)

Here's a list of my "clues" (some made me think I was pregnant and some just make sense in retrospect):

• Really bad bloating, starting 4-5 days after conception. (really painful -- couldn't even get a deep breath in!)
• Increased tiredness
• Lawrence started adamantly, damn-near-violently refusing his bedtime nursing session (his only nursing session)
• "Tingly" boobs
• "Heavy feeling" in lower abdomen
• Menstrual cramping for the past 1.5 weeks (With my period I only have cramping once it starts)
• Missed period
• Bitchiness
• Increased peeing
• Chapped lips (had the same thing with Law)
• THIRSTINESS!
• Acne on my chin (had that with Law, too)

I took several tests leading up to my digital BFP with completely unclear results. I don't know what's up with that...either $Tree just doesn't like me or it was too early even though I'd missed my period. I got some suuuuuuuuper faint lines, but they came up really late -- like around the 10 minute mark or more. I knew I wasn't supposed to give any credibility to anything seen after 10 minutes, so I didn't know WHAT to think. I finally broke down today and got a digital.

My mind's already reeling with bedroom arrangements, double strollers, MONEY and daycare...and I haven't even really wrapped my head around the fact that there's a little life growing inside of me as we speak. It's totally different the second time around...with my first pregnancy, it was like the world STOPPED spinning the minute we found out we were going to be parents. In that one instant, everything changed. Don't get me wrong -- it's still completely exciting and exhilarating...but the world hasn't exactly stopped spinning...or even slowed down. We have Lawrence to worry about and we've already been through it once, so some of the element of "OMG! What's next?!" just isn't there.

I can't wait to tell people. I really thought I'd want to keep it a secret this time. But, I find myself wanting to call every person I know -- hell! every person I've met in passing -- and tell them the news!

Wow. I just still don't believe it. And every time I look at the pee stick, I'm shocked all over again. I literally get chills.

So, I'm new to this blog thing...

I love reading other peoples' blogs and admire their wittiness and devotion to writing regularly. I probably won't be very witty or write very regularly, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway...I can't imagine anyone even caring enough to take the time to read about my mundane life, but who knows? Maybe someone's days are even more boring than mine!



For those of you poor souls who somehow found your way to my page and thought you might find some entertainment, let me introduce myself:



My name's Jess and I'm 25. I'm married to my high school sweetheart, Mike, and we have an amazing little boy named Lawrence. I work part-time as an event coordinator and have a side business doing invitations/announcements/etc.



My son absolutely amazes me every day. No, he's not some sort of genius...speaking in full sentences at 12.5 months or something...I'm just completely blown away that this little mini version of my husband and me managed to get all our good qualities and none of our bad. Thank GOD, by the way! I was definitely expecting a little hybrid of our bad features (definitely thought he was destined to bad ears and a bad nose) and a combination of my rudeness and inability to compromise and my husband's moodiness and temper. Sure, there's definitely still time for those lovely personality traits (and ears and nose) to develop, but my son is the sweetest, funniest, most laid-back little guy.



My best friend just reminded me tonight that when I was pregnant I obsessed over whether or not my kid would be "unfortunate looking." I made her promise to tell me the honest truth about my child's looks because I wanted to be able to compensate with cute clothing if he was a dog (and let's face it -- some kids just aren't cute...) I didn't think I'd be able to tell and I wanted her to let me know so that I didn't take some homely kid out in public in just a plain ol' white onesie and knit pants. Not that I would have cared -- I'd have loved my kid to the moon if he looked like Clay Aiken (which some people have said he does. Pshaw, I say!). I just didn't want to put people in the awkward predicament of not knowing what to say. I mean, for whatever reason, people are just compelled to make a fuss over babies in the grocery store or Target or the mall. And I didn't want to force people to have to a) lie to my face and tell me my kid was cute or b) struggle with not telling a lie and give me some sort of "awwww...what a cute...er, pair of socks?" kind of line. Thankfully, Lawrence outgrew the initial cone-headedness/yellowness and turned into a rather dashing little baby, if I don't say so myself (and if you don't think so, that's fine...just tell me you like his socks at least).



Here's a few photos of me/my little family:

Here's us at Christmastime
Lawrence around 10.5 months

A recent one (12 months)

Unbelievable that this was over a YEAR ago!

Not the best picture of my kid, but I look reasonably okay, which, let's face it -- it's pretty damn hard to find an acceptable photo of myself even a year postpartum.

I'm really rather boring. But, hey -- maybe blogging will help me document of some of Lawrence's milestones, since Lord knows they don't make it into his baby book until I've forgotten the actual dates and I have to just make stuff up...