You may wonder…

You may wonder what our due date is, or how far along I am. That’s a reasonable question. Short answer. I don’t know.

Then, you might wonder, why share this news so early.

Here’s the long answer.

Miscarriage and Stillbirth are still taboo subjects in our culture. That needs to change. Women miscarry every day. According to the March of Dimes website, between 10-15% of known pregnancies result in miscarriage. I guarantee you every one is remembered. Each one is grieved, and each one is a loss. Many of these losses are the result of chromosomal conditions. Cutie #2 with her chromosomal condition has made it so far. She made it through a rare congenital condition, and we are knocking on wood.  We only live one day at a time. That’s all we get.

If we are so incredibly lucky (and I specifically say lucky, as I refuse to say blessed and thus blame God for every miscarriage and stillbirth suffered by my loves around the world) to bring our baby home, it will be with the deep knowledge that it could have gone differently. It could still. And it’s all worth it. Each day is worth it.

I love many who have experienced unspeakable pain, and I may still. My fingers are crossed. Today I am pregnant. Let’s celebrate!

So, why would I want to share this excellent news at such an early date when I know all too well how fragile life is? I share because I want to celebrate each moment, and I know that moments are fleeting.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is simply confused.

 

Help exists for  Stillbirth and Miscarriage, please reach out. If you have more resources, please send them to me, and I’ll post them.

 

Compassionate Friends

 

 

 

Chronic Confusion

Since Cutie #2 was born with her designer genes, something inside me has been unsettled. I wanted to be able to tell our story, but I also didn’t want to confuse her story with my own. As a result, I’ve collected (in my own brain) many stories which I’d love to share with you…assuming my forty year-old brain lets me retrieve them at the right time.

Forty.

How did that happen?

Somehow it did. And almost immediately my brain failed me. For years, my optometrist has told me, “Just wait. Your eyesight will be like this when you’re forty.” And he would proceed to change that confounded machine to the blurriest possible settings. Seriously? What a fun job! Mess with people and get paid for it.  Another career for my next life.

So clearly, it came as no surprise to me when my brain failed me. I couldn’t remember what I was doing. I couldn’t focus on work, advocacy, children, husband, house, work, did I mention work? My brain was failing me.

I didn’t hesitate; I immediately made an appointment with my Internist. He nodded, listened, ordered myriad tests for thyroid, hormone-imbalance, allergies, everything. I could see on his face the “look”.  You know, the one that says, “What does she expect? She’s forty.” To his credit, he didn’t utter the words. I even complained, “None of my pants fit! All of a sudden! It’s not fair. I just went shopping in Minnesota where there is no tax on clothes!!! It was less than a month ago.” Again the “look”.

I left my appointment and sat down in my car. I glanced at the checkout paperwork the doctor’s office printed.

Reason for visit: Chronic Confusion

At least it didn’t say, “She’s forty, what did she expect?” Insurance would never cover that condition.

It dawned on me a few mornings later that I might be entering the lovely and relaxing time of perimenopause. My monthly visitor was again late. Just in case, I thought I would do a home pregnancy test. I had two nearly-expired ones left from our procreation days. No problem.

First one – colossal failure. Not enough of a sample.

I took the last test with me, peed in a public restroom in a location which shall remain nameless and before I could zip up my too-tight pants, I was pregnant.

 

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Excuse me? What was that?

Now I’m giving myself the “look”. However, this look includes “What have we gotten ourselves in to?” We have two fabulous kids: one who hates wearing jeans and one who rocks designer genes. Why not add one more to the mix?

Welcome to our Chronic Confusion.