PTSD

I feel like I have written this post before.

I've certainly written it in my mind before.

Now that I'm pregnant again (and so lucky to be so), I feel like I have a sort of infertility PTSD.

I'm just waiting on the other foot to drop.

The cycle that was successful wasn't an easy one.

They doubled my medicines.  I was ready in 5 days instead of 15 like the cycle before. 

It worked.

Only "kind of" at the beginning.

When you go through fertility treatments, they have you come in for 2-3 "betas" or HCG draws where they measure the amount of pregnancy hormone in your body and if it is doubling every 48-72 hours. 

Except my first beta was low. 

My second beta didn't double.

So I had to go back for a third, fourth and fifth.  The most glorious of which was on a business trip where I had to leave my baby at my parents, find a LabCorps in Greenville, SC and make an excuse of why I was doing so.

Add on top of that an outbreak of Fifth's Disease at the Robster's daycare the week I find out that I'm pregnant.  And the news that Fifth's Disease isn't so bad, unless of course you are pregnant and you get it and it can cause fetal demise.

And another trip to my OBGYN to test for Fifths. 

And waiting over the weekend for the results.

Then coming in for my 12 week appointment, becuase you know, I'm cool like that. I'm such a laid back woman that I didn't schedule an intake appointment at my OB when I was released from Shady Grove, just went ahead and waiting for my 12 week appointment.  (You know.  The laid back?)

And them not finding a heartbeat, and needing to do an ultrasound, and it being totally ok but me in my mind thinking "it's totally not ok".

And then going in for my 16 week appt on Wednesday and it taking another 10 minutes to find a heartbeat that wasn't my heartbeat, and it being totally ok but me in my mind thinking "it's totally not ok".

I said something about infertility PTSD to my doctor that afternoon, and he said "that's a really interesting way to think about it".

Maybe I'm on to something here.

Infertility? It screws with your mind. 

Maybe I need to start a website.

Pregnantandwaitingontheothershoetodrop.com

Or pregnantfornowaskmeagainnextweek.com

Or theysayimpregnantimnotsureibelievethem.com

Cause you know?  PregnantPTSD.com is just too mainstream.

More Than Meets the Eye

I promise we do more around here than feed the baby.

To be fair, though, when he is sitting in the high chair it is just about the only time you can get him sitting in one place, mugging for the camera.

Otherwise, he's grabbing the camera...

Going for the coasters...

Pushing his foam tiles around the floor...

Pulling up on whatever you are sitting on...

It's fun.

It's tiring.

And we get to do it all over again.

Order in the baby court!

This Guy

He's a great Dad.

A great husband.

We are all really lucky to have him and can't feed him steaks enough to let him know how much we love him.

To Know or Not to Know

I (being Susann only) am seriously thinking about not finding out the gender of baby 2. 

SERIOUSLY.

No one I say that to believes me.

Seriously.  No one does.

I will fully admit I have a severe "need to know" on all things, but this could be a fun little surprise if we are able to wait.

What are the chances?


Also how many minutes until Shawn weighs in with a "REALLY"?


With Robbie, I had absolutely, 100% no doubt that he was a boy.   I didn't have a question in my mind, and when they told us at 20 weeks, I was like "duh".


I don't feel as strongly with this baby (who clearly needs a nickname, and if we stick with the frog theme it would be Newt but then, really, Newt?).  I'm probably at 70% boy, 30% girl.


I FEEL differently this pregnancy.  I'm much sicker.  Much more tired.  Much more zitty.   Much more interested in candy and cupcakes.  But we can probably attribute some of that to chasing around a 10 month old.


Who knows.  If we decide to find out, the ultrasound is scheduled for July 16th.  Until then, we can start back up "Old Wives Wednesdays" like I did last time around.


I just want another one of these: 

A happy, sunshiney, good sleeping, awesomeness of a baby.

Self-Feeding...A Study

Self-Feeding...A (disgusting) study.

My nauseaous tummy has made it so Mr. mess and Mom can't dine at the same time.

Case in point:  Robbie v. fajita night.

I'm not sure who won.