Certainly Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

Scene: The front porch chaos during school dismissal


Sweet 2nd Grader: "Mrs. V. are you going to have a baby?"

Me: "Yes."

Sweet 2nd Grader (without missing a beat): "I hope your baby doesn't die."

Me (pausing slightly): "Honey...me too."

Sweet 2nd Grader: "Bye!"


So matter of fact and so true.
33 weeks today and the c-section is scheduled.
Please let this happen because I'm not sure I could do this again if it didn't.

Seriously?

It's getting tempting to be rude to people like this. However, it's not worth it...


W.Foods Checker: "When is your baby due?"

Me: "In May, but not soon enough."

W.Foods Checker: "Oh, don't talk to me about that. That's nonsense."

Me: "I mean I just want her out safely."

W.Foods Checker: "Well, I have four boys. I breastfed one of them while pregnant with twins. Then, when the twins came, I breastfed all three of them at once. And, they were 6 pounds each. What you've got going on there (pointing to my belly) is nothing. You don't know how hard it is until you carry twins to full term."

Me: "Yes, that is certainly commendable."

Showered With Love x 2

My team, my heart and soul at work, gave us the most amazing shower at school last week. Every detail was perfect from the individually floral taped Gerber Daisies, the cake that matched Kallie's bedding, to the "to die for" punch. A slideshow and song, set to Kallie's nursery theme, played while guests were arriving. I can't wait to light Kallie's candle that sat by the guest book, along with the little tiny shoes and a poem. My sweet team thoughtfully signed messages from the heart in Kallie's Twelve Gifts of Birth book. And, most of all, the company was perfect.

My high school (and elementary school!) friends also gave me the most creative shower with thoughtful touches at every turn on Saturday. I was greeted with a pink fuzzy "Mommy" embroidered robe with matching slippers (flip flops, yeah!) and very soon the house was transformed into a spa. Students from a local beauty school came and treated us to manicures and pedicures of our choice. The cake was a perfect match with Kallie's bedding, the flowers were beautifully arranged and fragrant, and I am still craving Creme Brulee french toast after tasting the yummy food (complete with a chocolate fountain!). A beautifully framed picture we had not even seen yet of My Babe's hands and my hands around my belly sat in the entry way. And, Kallie will forever read the framed quotes of my sweet friends that wrote why My Babe and I would make good parents. It was amazing.

No Horns

Thank goodness for that.

Random Bad vs. Good of Today

Bad: This morning started with nausea. Yes, thank you third trimester.

Good: My nausea allowed me to eat a little bit for breakfast and a pretty big lunch.


Bad: While blow drying my curly hair straight, my beloved Chi hair dryer exploded. I do not write explosion lightly.

Good: I've been needing a new hair dryer and now I have no choice but to get one.


Bad: My belly button hurts and is sticking out profusely.

Good: We all had a good laugh when one of the kids said (pointing to my belly button), "I think I see the baby's toe sticking out right there."


Bad: In a nauseated blur, I waited for 2 hours and 15 minutes for my dr. to see me for my 30 week appt.

Good: Everything looks great.


Bad: My Babe saw a turtle trying to cross Hwy 620, a very busy road by our house, and witnessed cars driving over him.

Good: My Babe got out of his truck, rescued him from danger, drove to Brushy Creek and let him go. That's just the way he is.


Bad: On the way home tonight, police were trying to convince a man to come back over the bridge that he was threatening to jump off.

Good: I was reminded of the blessings in my life and took time to pray for his safety and soul.


Bad: My Babe worked overtime today at the fire station.

Good: He is actually getting to come home tonight rather than spend the night at the station. And that makes up for all the bad in the world tonight.

Sleep Won't Hardly Come

Sleep is a silly thing to request these days. I feel as if I have hip dysplasia, I have to sleep in an almost sitting position to avoid puking up my food all night, my whole body aches and burns, my varicose veins hurt like a beast, and I can't breathe worth snot.

However, all over the world right now, people can't sleep at night.

Many have just lost a child, a husband, a mother or father, a loved one near and dear to their hearts. Some are going through the despair of divorce. Others are dealing with a terminal illness and pain that no medication or delivery date can fix. Many don't have a cozy bed and covers to wrap in. Some don't have a support system of friends to carry them through. Husbands and wives are far from their families at war. A great deal will never be able to have children. All of these people can't turn away from the worry and sleep is a dreaded nightly event.

As sleep eludes me at night, I think of these people. I think of just how lucky I am to have a strong marriage, a healthy baby girl still growing, loved ones safe and sound, a cozy home, and temporary discomfort. I pray for them to find sleep.

But as darkness fades, I easily forget to count my blessings and instead revert back to feeling grumpy, irritated, cheated, and abused from all of these pregnancies and recurrent losses. Pain overcomes my mind and I forget how brief it really is in the grand scheme of life. How soon this will all fade and a new kind of sleepless night will take over.

I pray I will carry my blessings throughout the day. I pray that I will find strength like I used to have years ago to continue to endure pain. I pray I will not complain as much and will find peace with the past. I pray for those that have it far worse than I could ever imagine.

For all these things I pray each night when sleep won't hardly come.

26.2

Miles, that is.

My Babe ran his first marathon today like a first class champ. It was super fun and I'm excited already for the next one.

To top it off, we arrived home to a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the front porch from an unknown giver. They smell Heavenly and look that way too - thank you Secret Admirer!

Recipe for the Perfect Marriage

From the Kitchen of MKV

Ingredients:

Adventure
Affection
Commitment
Compassion
Faith
Happiness
Hope
Hugs & Kisses
Kindness
Laughter
Respect
Trust
Unconditional Love

Find a tall, dark, handsome, athletic, caring, smart guy. Make sure his name is TAV. Marry him quickly before he gets away. Let him be adventurous. Laugh, hug and kiss daily. Trust him in everything he does and have hope and faith the world will keep him safe. Respect him amazing work ethic and commitment to his family. Show affection, kindness, and compassion toward him in everything he does. Love him unconditionally. Enjoy a lifetime of happiness together.

I love you babe, you are my everything. Happy Valentine's Day...

28...The Sweetest Number

28 Weeks today, our ultimate goal.

Her name is Kallie Zane.

Feeling Just a Wee Bit TRAPPED.

For the better part of three years I've been growing humans #1-5...at a profoundly unsuccessful rate...or at least until now. To say that I feel limited, maxed out, abnormal, and pretty much done would be a gross understatement. I am thankful each and every second for a healthy baby girl measuring perfectly at 27 weeks, for not having to be on bed rest, for feeling pretty good, and for the possibility that this really might work.

But, let's be real now.

I'm weary. I'm tired of being a doctor's science experiment. My body doesn't know which way is up anymore (except for my faithful reflux/heartburn friend) and it certainly hasn't had enough recovery time between pregnancies to even begin to try to go back to "normal." Being that I have the pastiest of pasty white skin, I will never be able to wear shorts in public again unless I spend the outrageous amount of money to fix them. It looks like someone has punched me in multiple places and then completed a dot-to-dot picture between punches. And, my varicose veins...yeah...let's just stop there.

I feel trapped. Trapped inside my freakish mind. Trapped inside my classroom. Trapped inside a pregnant body that is not allowed to exercise. Trapped because this is the last weekend I am allowed to travel.

And, while I am not silly and know this is not permanent, I am feeling a great deal of anxiety over the permanent change that will soon come to my dream come true marriage. I want to protect it. I want to spend every moment possible nurturing it before we're blindsided by lack of sleep. I want to keep it sacred and I've spent a good deal of time researching books on how to "prepare" your marriage for the arrival of a baby. Which, really, is hysterical since experience is the only way to learn this one.

I am anxious and tired of the physical sacrifices, the restrictions and limitations, the doctor's visits and the trapped feeling. But, I must remind myself often that I will make it. The light is beginning to show at the end of the long, long, scary tunnel. I will crawl through the tunnel soon, and while life will look completely different, I will settle into a groove. My marriage will survive and remain strong through lots of hard work and forgiveness. And, very soon, I will no longer feel trapped.

Lesson Learned: Don't Get Too Comfortable

25 Weeks, 3 Days

Just when you think everything is going great. Just when you think you might actually make it to the dream come true. Just when you think you can enjoy every moment. Just when you think you are feeling pretty darn good...you get a reminder that there is still so much that can go wrong. So many hurdles to leap, so many bridges of fire to cross, and a little voice in my head repeating, "Don't get too comfortable."

Thursday night was an uncomfortable night. The feeling that your belly might explode with every breath isn't great. And, sweet baby girl was not active as she normally is. No movement Friday morning, which is not at all the way our mornings usually go. My belly was cramping and I just didn't feel good. So, at 9:30am I decide to drink a Coke in hopes of jolting her awake, as I never have them. One hour passes and no movement. I'm slowly becoming more sick to my stomach and finally break down.

So, I did what I have never done in 9 years of teaching. I got the first person that walked into my room to cover the class, left the room, never told the kids "goodbye", never looked twice to see what confidential papers were on my desk, never lifted a finger to get something together for a sub, and never stopped by the office on my way out.

Dr. S. got us in quickly and, of course, everything checked out fine.

However, for once, I was validated and received an explanation. Baby Girl and her "long legs" decided to do a ginormous fruit basket turn-over move and wore herself out / beat up my insides. And...a possible bladder infection to boot.

And while things are a little better today and she is moving as much as she can being in such a bad position, I've been knocked back down a few notches. Reminded again not to get too comfortable. Reminded that there is still a long way to go. Reminded not to take one single second of this pregnancy for granted. How easy it is to forget sometimes.

Lesson learned.

What A Difference One Baby Makes

24 Weeks Today!

When you're a borderline midget and carrying two of your 6ft. husband's babies, life is no walk in the park. One baby, with long legs (thank you, Lord!), is a little more feasible. I feel good and think I'm almost at the I "love" being pregnant stage. I still hurt, still get nauseated, still have cramping and back pain, and still have heartburn 24/7, but this is 50 times easier than carrying twins.

We've made it to viability and I am positively pumped.

23 Weeks, 1 Day

The day Kinsey and Ryan were born.

The night we came home from the hospital we heard this song, and while we know it is highly over-played, it will always hold significance with us.

We are 3 days past that date with this pregnancy, but never past that date in our hearts.

Shhh...There's A Crib In My Garage

It was on clearance and their only floor model, so we had to take it off their hands within 7 days. It's white and folds down so my shortness can take her out easily. I'm a little bit freaked and a lot excited.

Not This Time, Kid

22 weeks, 5 days and all is well. The sonographer was a little concerned about increased amniotic fluid, but my blood sugar level was normal and the sonogram showed no GI obstruction, so Dr. B. isn't concerned. Sweet baby girl is measuring ahead of schedule by 5 days and my cervix looks peachy. However, she has decided that my cervix is a trampoline made for stomping. Let it be known loud and clear:

She can stomp all she wants, but coming out early really isn't an option.

No Longer

There will be many more New Year's Eve nights. There will be many more First Night Austin celebrations. But, someday soon it will no longer be the two of us. We will take her, bundled up and cozy in her hat with the puffy frays on top, wrapped safely in her daddy's arms.

We will find the best spot possible on the curb and wait for the parade. She will want to run out into the street with all the other kids to catch a glimpse of the start to the parade. She will say over and over, "Mamma, when is it gonna start?"

The parade will begin and she will squeal with delight, clapping her hands together and saying, "Mamma, did you see that one?" with each passing group. She'll want to eat kettle corn, funnel cakes, and drink hot chocolate. She'll want to buy the glow sticks and wave them around with vigor. The fireworks will start and she will say, "That one's my favorite," to every firework exploding in the sky.

I will relish in her happiness, her smile and her giggles. She will become cranky and I will try my best to distract her, talk to her, engage her until the time comes when we must leave. She will fall asleep in the car, sacked out until her daddy places her softly in her bed. She will hug his neck and whisper, "Thank you, daddy. That was fun."

There will be many more New Year's Eve nights. But soon, no longer will we spend them as a family of two.

Hurl Caution To The Wind, Fire, Pits of Hell

And while we're at it, let's register for baby items. Not just one registry...but two. Really? Who does that at all of 21 weeks, 5 days gestation with as much bad luck as we have encountered? Apparently me, and it started yesterday.

After a day of looking at furniture, discussing the details of the nursery, and buying primer, I decided to just "begin" a registry. I added 4-5 items and then went to sleep. If you know me well, you know my issues with registries, showers in general, etc. Well, I've changed.

My Babe left at 5:00am this morning for a "short" 9 mile run, because he is quite frankly, Superman. I tossed, turned, thought about the registry, and turned on the bedroom light at 5:32am. Downhill from there, friends. Hours later, I now have 2 registries. And, guess what, they aren't complete.

And I can't stop thinking about the baby's room. Most likely, the room will center around the traits of life found in the book, The Twelve Gifts of Birth, by Charlene Costanzo. The book uses pastel colors, but the room is going to be bright pink(!), bright green, and red. The focus will be the traits displayed around the room and in the built-in shelves My Babe is going to concoct.

My mind is frantic. Like there's an urgency, a fire, an emergency that must be mitigated right NOW. I can't wait to carry her around the room and tell her the meaning of each trait. I can't wait to hold her in my arms and, hell, maybe even sing to her. I just can't wait.

Caution has left this house.

Acknowledgment

Maternity clothes are the only clothes in my closet. We're discussing the nursery and going to start working on it this weekend. We've started researching cribs, car seats, and bedding. I smile when she kicks and My Babe has felt her. We've narrowed down names. When people ask me about the baby I can finally feel and express a little bit of excitement. Our 21 week sonogram was great and my cervix is cooperating for once. My fFn test was negative and I'm actually feeling pretty good. I've had several dreams where I've brought a live baby home. I held a newborn the other day and didn't burst into tears.

Everyone knows. There's no turning back and the stakes are very high. So much can still go wrong. However, I'm going to have a baby girl again, and this time she will come home with me. I have faith.

She Asked For It

Scene: Before Christmas, in line to pay...let's just say, lots of people behind me. A conversation with the cashier.


Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "So, are you pregnant?"

Me: "Yes."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Oh, I thought so. Because if you weren't I was gonna say, 'Girl, you better do something about that belly.'"

Me: "Ha, ha."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "How far along are you?"

Me: "20 weeks."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Oh, you're still early. {Pause} So, why are you so big?"

Me: "Well, I am little so I pop out pretty quickly."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Yeah, but people don't usually get that big so fast."

Me: "This is my fourth pregnancy, fifth baby, with no living children, so I show faster than normal."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Good luck with that."

Me: "Yeah, thanks."

Laughter And Love

An evening spent with my team. An evening of relaxing, food, laughter, fun, joy and love. An evening listening to Christmas music and the beautiful sound of BMW's piano playing. An evening of teasing, jokes, gift exchanges, light-hearted conversation, and hints of deep moments too. An evening where I feel like the luckiest girl around to have such a bond with so many people at once. An evening where I can be myself, let my guard down, peek through the walls, because they will love me no matter what. An evening where I look around the room during the story telling and think there is no other place I'd rather be right now. And even though there are a few longtime team members missing, it was an evening to reflect on things of which I am thankful. The people that mean the world to me.

An evening of laughter and love...just what I needed.

All Is Calm...And Uncomfortable

Comfort is overrated during pregnancy. And, hey, I can deal with that. As long as my discomfort is truly, without a doubt, normal. And then there is trust. I'm finding it hard to trust any medical professional considering I trusted whole-heartedly with Kinsey and Ryan, and paid the highest price possible.

I will be 20 weeks on Wednesday and entering the danger zone in my mind. Our 20 week appointment with Kinsey and Ryan could have possibly saved their lives. It would have definitely bought us time had Dr. Jerk pulled his head out of his butt and taken notice. This pregnancy has patterned itself so closely with the pregnancy I had with Kinsey and Ryan and it freaks me out. My nausea (for the most part) stopped at 17 weeks only to be replaced by pressure. Now, the intense back pain just like before. I huff and puff like a race horse when walking up stairs or exerting any energy, my heart might pound right out of my chest, and I have varicose veins that will rival a 1/4" PVC pipe. Doctors say the difference this time is that I have a gigantic stitch holding this sweet baby girl in, but I'm scared of what my body will concoct next. And, can they be trusted?

My silence is from swirling thoughts in my head that make no coherent sense. I go from excitement to panic in a matter of seconds. I have a lot to say but would be committed if I said it out loud. I want to be knocked out and wake up at 28 weeks. Then, have a celebration and be knocked out again until she is in my arms. Not because I can't take the physical pain, but because I am fragile, weak and emotionally frail. I've fallen in love with her and don't want to give her up. I've allowed myself to enter Target's baby section on several occasions (only for about 5 minutes) and even stupid Pottery Barn Kids yesterday (only for 2 minutes). I actually read flipped quickly through a Parents magazine instead of tossing it in the baby's room like I have for the past 2 years. (Very big stack, I tell you. Never again will I subscribed to anything baby for 2 damn years when I am only 10 weeks pregnant. Idiot.)

Now, enough of that boys and girls...let's be positive!

I do take heart in the fact that even though I am uncomfortable and it is the same kind of uncomfortable as before, I am certainly not as uncomfortable as I was with the twins. And, I've found a nifty and very sexy contraption that allows me to walk upright (I ask a lot, huh?) without the pressure. Dr. S. will be doing the fFN test just for giggles and extra assurance starting on Monday. I will be monitored every 2weeks from here on and will have an ultrasound to check my cervix each time. I've been told that I may stop working as soon as I am ready, which sure beats the hell out of having to break Dr. Jerk's arm just to put me on half days. I know I am in better hands this time, and I am trying with all my might to relax. And relax I will do...just as soon as someone knocks me out. Any takers?

Let Us All Bow Our Heads

And give thanks for blessings of which we are not worthy.

Thank you FedEx man.

?

I had my first official dream in which I brought home a live baby.

However, not before I jumped from a cliff into a raging river with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. I did have the sense to give the baby to a stranger prior to jumping into Niagara Falls though, so that must count for something. And, my grilled cheese sandwich landed safely in a paper plate held by another stranger down on the rocks, so score 3 points for me.

After retrieving the baby that was at that time a boy, I found myself in my childhood home. 2 days later, I realized I hadn't fed the baby (now a girl) at all, to which I responded, "Well, she didn't tell me to feed her!" I successfully fed him (yes, him) for 30 minutes straight without stopping, while watching her (yes, her) belly begin to grow bigger by the minute. I finally burped her and placed her on the bottom of my bunk bed while I removed blanket after blanket, toy after toy, hazard after hazard from her crib all decked out in pink butterflies and ruffles.

And then I woke up.

?

Elf Eviction

Dear Elf,

It has been widely brought to my attention that you have taken up residence in my uterus next to the current (and legal) tenant, sweet baby girl. For the following reasons, I respectfully request that you pack your bags and hit the road, as I have 164 days left in this pregnancy.

The little spears of fire you throw so viciously are not appreciated nor are they necessary. You must be quite fast if you can throw a spear in my calf, my uterus and my eye all in a matter of seconds. Do you have more friends in there? I mean, we all know sweet baby girl wouldn't do any of this.

Thanks to you, I cannot get comfortable on most occasions and considering the days noted above, this is not acceptable. The heartburn you give me will someday cause me to spontaneously vomit mid-sentence if I can't force it back down my throat. You could at least give me some type of warning.

Due to the energy you suck from my body, you have forced me to do nothing but watch ridiculously bad t.v. from my couch. You continue to keep me from cooking any meal that involves work or real food, and as you know (and everyone in the McD's parking lot found out...including my shoes) you won the fight after lunch the other day.

Considering the above reasons, you are hereby notified to vacate the premises described in the address above (my uterus) within 24 hours of the date of the delivery of this notice to you. I am happy to escort you out in any fashion possible and will even help you find real estate that includes a little more room and is not currently occupied. If you fail to vacate within this period, court proceedings will be taken immediately to evict you from the premises via the honorable Judge, My Babe.

Thank you for your attention to this matter,

The Landlord

Better. And For That I Am THANKFUL

Thanks to a lot of prayer and some hefty steroids, Peanut is pretty much back to normal. And, considering the holidays are not the brightest of times for me, I am eternally thankful for this gift.

Thanksgiving Day 2000, was the day the doctor called to say my dad had incurable lung cancer.

Thanksgiving weekend 2005, was filled with work on sub plans since I was certain Dr. Jerk was finally going to listen and put me on bed rest. Two days later, I was in the hospital in a magnesium stupor, unsuccessfully trying to stop labor.

But today, Thanksgiving 2007, I am extremely thankful for this pregnancy and sweet baby girl growing as I type. It's just hard to shake the feelings of the holidays, and Thanksgiving marks the beginning.

Please Pray For My Sweet Puppy

Peanut isn't doing well and I experienced my first ever full blown panic attack. It wasn't pretty and I was even surprised at my unstoppable reaction. I guess I'm just tired of losing things.

The vet says she could have a tumor, could be having mini-strokes or her symptoms could be the result of geriatric vestibular disease. Either way, our time is limited as she is 13 years old. I have had her since she was 6 weeks old and she has lived a long life, but it doesn't change the devastation I will feel when she goes, whether it is today or 3 years from now.

Well, Looky There...I'm One Lucky Duck!

Thanks to Lori at "Eggs in a Basket" for honoring me with my first award within the infertility blogosphere. I did not bring my acceptance speech with me, but let me just say a hearty THANK YOU and...

I honor Lori over at "Losses and Gains" because she writes every single thing I want to say about losing boy/girl twins at 23 weeks. And, because she's just so dang wise.

I also honor Akeeyu at "herveryown" because she is the best writer I know (or know in my computer) and each day I hope and pray I turn on my computer and find a new post to keep me laughing hysterically.

And, finally, I honor Ann at "The Unlucky 20 Percent" because she just lost a sweet baby boy at 20 weeks. I know the unbearable pain.

Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Tonka trucks, rocks, crawdads, bikes from dawn to dusk, Hot Wheels, constellations, mud, playing army, GI Joe parachute men, spending hours in the creek, climbing and jumping out of trees, digging for treasures.

I'm certain our little girl will love all this and more...just like her mother.

If I Had A Mannequin Head, I'd Name Her Frankie

And I'd give her some serious streaks of red in her hair. Skunk like. And she would like it. Because that's what you do with a mannequin head. I'd tuck her under my arm and carry her around with me, hair flowing in the wind, red streaks causing envy everywhere.

That's what you do at the Paul Mitchell Beauty School. And, that's where my brave (and broke) butt went to get my hair trimmed. $15 and 2 hours later, I was out the door. But, not before learning many important things.

Did you know that alpha hydroxy acids are derived from fruit and milk sugars? Did you know that you must be the bravest soul possible to let a fellow student cut(!) and color(!!) your own hair. And I mean cut into super freak styles? Call me silly, but I believe that is what Frankie is for. Did you know that it is possible to have a hair supervisor giving advice to young, impressionable "future professionals" as their shirts boldly announced with a hair style that rivals Dog, The Bounty Hunter? For reals.

My sweet little student was 3 months into her schooling and had an adversion to hair..."Oh! There's hair everywhere!" She sectioned my hair into 10 (I counted.) sections and painstakingly cut each strand of hair with careful precision. At one point I almost snatched the scissors away and said, "For the love of Pete! Let me cut it Granny Moses!" But, I refrained and sat, magazineless, watching her every move. And every move of Death's Door Dora, the student sitting in the chair next to me watching the whole time. She was quite a ray of sparkles as she stared me down, scowl in tow. I brushed her off until hunger took over and I almost asked her if she wanted a piece of the hungry pregnant girl.

Honestly, she did a great job and even caused me to say a little "I will be better with my hair" mantra that lasted just for the day. I will return there. And, I might even have my own little mannequin head tucked under my arm just to pass the time.

Just Frankie and me.

November Resolutions

1. Start my iPod books again.
2. Buy a prenatal yoga tape before I die from missing my beloved Body Flow class.
3. Be thankful for every second of this pregnancy.
4. Pray harder, longer, more frequently.
5. BREATHE.

Who's That Girl?

No wedding is complete without wedding pictures...even if they make it to an album three and a half years later. Since I'm home bound, I thought I would do just that, which led me to a string of pictures of My Babe and me from the last six years we've been together. Pictures of camping, rock climbing, skiing, and bike riding. We've been sky diving, canoeing, hiking, and many more things I've always dreamed of doing. I look back and see a girl that resembles me, but not the me I know now. In my mind, I'm still that girl. The girl that used to have a slight bit of muscle tone, skinnier face, long hair with highlights, able (and willing) to wear tank tops without embarrassment, and open to trying anything (almost).

But, the last two and a half years have taken that away. I've spent those years gestating...with no end result. No product. Just a few short hours with two precious babies in my arms, a belly that never went away, and a box of memories that aren't enough to last. I feel robbed of the girl I used to be from my body, to my brain, to my heart. Those that know me and have been around me may or may not agree, but to me it is so obvious, especially after seeing those pictures. Especially when I can't physically do the things we used to do. And, while, it may be temporary, by the time I give birth, I will have spent three years of my life unable to do the things I enjoy due to trying to conceive, pregnancy, and pregnancy loss after loss.

I want the old me back. I want to be stupid and naive about pregnancy and the end result. I want to not have to think about my angel babies on a second to second basis. I want to push the play button since my life has been on hold for so long. I want to move on. I want to be the girl in the pictures again. The girl with the smile that wasn't covering the heartache. I want to find that girl again. If you see her, send her home to me.