Monday, October 25, 2010

So totally worth it

As much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I thought it would never be possible, there are times when I forget about the struggle to get (and stay) pregnant. I sometimes find myself, what with the Marital Discord and sleep deprivation such, a bit mournful for my "old life." Which, of course, was SO FANTASTIC (as you can tell from my archives).

This forgetfulness really bothers me. I mean, sure, I have a twinge when I get my period after a month of rampant unprotected sex (and by "rampant," I mean, "twice a week," which I think is sort of impressive although the Mr. would not agree), or when a friend or family member announces a pregnancy (will I ever be pregnant again?), or basically any time I see an episode of Private Practice. But I'm not going to pretend that living with infertility once you have a child is the same as living with it without one. It's just not. For me, anyway.

BUT. The point of this post was not to wax philosophic about what an unappreciative asshat I can be. It was to relate a moment of pure joy that happened yesterday.

We decided that it would be fun to take a few early pictures of the Chicklette in her Halloween costume (not just any butterfly, but a monarch butterfly). And while I am too paranoid to post any pictures here (despite the fact that probably 20,000 kids across America have the same costume), I will tell you that she was so adorable that my heart just about exploded in my chest. I turned to the Mr. and said, "I don't care what we went through to get here, or how long it takes us to work through all of our issues, but seeing her in that costume makes it all totally worth it."

He agreed.

And then the girl's wet diaper exploded all over the inside of the costume.

Hey, it was good while it lasted!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

The comfort of routine

I am a creature of habit. Or I guess, more accurately, routine. One of the hardest things for me during the first few months of the Chicklette's outside-of-my-body existence was the fact that everything was so unpredictable. It was impossible to create a routine. And it drove me NUTS.

Now we've got a routine in the Chicklette's life (with a few curveballs like, oh, CRAWLING thrown in here and there), but the rest of life is a bit of a mess. I'm on the road a LOT for work, and my marriage....well, you know. There are good days and bad days. And certainly very few ROUTINE days.

So today, rain tapping on the skylights, I decided it was good day to insert a bit of our old (as in pre-baby) routine into life. With the Chicklette in her Bumbo on the kitchen floor chewing on a plastic spoon, I pulled out the Crock Pot -- dusty from about a year of disuse -- and put together a pot roast. I'd hastily pulled the ingredients off the shelves during yesterday's grocery run, and I think I did OK. We'll see in about 8 hours.

Tonight at 5, we'll sit down at the dining room table (one of us in a high chair), pour a glass of red, light a fire in the fireplace, and have dinner. It won't solve everything, but it feels like it might be a good start.

I can't wait.

Saturday, October 23, 2010


So, I just realized today that ICLW has been going on for two days, and hurriedly made the rounds tonight. Ugh, I'm terrible. And it's been a while since I've done ICLW. Forgive me?

For anyone who's new here, I'm the frequently-traveling parent of a 10-month-old Chicklette, conceived after 2+ years of trying. We were successful after a few rounds of Clomid and an IVF cycle.

If you look back a couple of posts, you'll see that I am currently experiencing some Marital Discord. I'm told this is normal for parents of newborns, but I will say (without revealing too much, because I am crazy paranoid about anyone in my family reading this) that we have some issues that are a bit beyond what I think is the scope of "typical" new parent stress. BUT, we are in counseling and working at it.

The immediate ramification of all of this is that I think our original plan to get back on the horse (or, I guess more accurately, back in the stirrups) in January has been delayed indefinitely. Not TOO indefinitely, because I'll be 35 in a couple of months, but I can't really imagine bringing another baby into the current situation.

So, here I am. Incredibly blessed by my beautiful, perfect baby girl. Struggling to keep my marriage together. Working like crazy to stay in my employer's good graces in this crazy economy. Taking it, as they say, one day at a time.


Tuesday, October 12, 2010


It seems like the most often-shared parental anecdote -- right behind "I never realized how much I'd miss sleep!" -- is the "just wait until the first time your baby falls off the bed/changing table/chair" line. "You'll never forget that sound! You'll never get over the guilt!"

Well, 9 months had passed without mishap (other than the almost-losing-a-finger nail clipping incident). Until yesterday morning.

Ironically, we had just been at a friend's house the night before, and she shared with us the horrifying tale of her baby falling off the changing table that morning. And of course, I smugly thought how I would never let that happen, my child has never fallen, etc. etc.

Well, I was getting dressed yesterday and had Scooter Baby on the bed. She had scooted her way towards the edge to check out what I was doing, but not so close that I was worried. I turned my back to grab something from the dresser drawer, and THUD!

I whipped around to see the Chicklette lying and squirming on her side on the floor. She immediately started screaming, and I scooped her up. Nothing seemed broken, and all of her limbs and whatnot were moving as they should (including the right hand slapping me in the side of the head as if to say, "bad Mommy!"). Within 5 minutes (and after many kisses), she was smiling and playing again. But sheesh. Scary.

So, yeah, I got taken down a peg. I am no longer smug. Thankfully, the Chicklette is fine.

But I never will forget that sound.

Or get over the guilt!

Friday, October 8, 2010

7 years

Seven years ago this weekend, I married the best man I have ever met.

This week, that same man and I sat down for our first marriage counseling session.

It's almost a cliche....the seven year itch and all of that. But some combination of infertility, job dissatisfaction, anxiety, clinical depression, suspicions of infidelity and new parenthood have landed us on the couch.

I just read that last sentence back and thought "Wow, your marriage is really effed up!" But honestly, I don't have any doubt that we'll work through our issues. I'm strangely optimistic, and relieved that we're facing our problems head-on in the same way that I felt relieved when we finally figured out why we weren't able to get pregnant and how we might be able to deal with it.

So in a couple of days, we'll celebrate our anniversary. A little bruised and battered (not literally -- thank God THAT'S not one of our issues), but we'll celebrate nevertheless. And kiss our little girl a hundred times (if she'll let us).

Monday, October 4, 2010


Late last week, life as we know it changed forever. The Chicklette finally put it all together and achieved what seemed to be the impossible -- forward motion.

She's not crawling in the traditional sense of the word. It's more of an asymmetrical scoot, and it's not particularly pretty. But it IS effective. This girl can cruise.

And surprise! She's not interested in her toys anymore. She's like, "Sorry peeps, I've moved on to this dirty flip flop/week-old crumb/electrical wire over here." It's a heart attack a minute. The one saving grace is that she hasn't yet figured out how to get from a sitting position to a scooting position, so we can put her in a time out when we need to.

I suspect we won't be seeing the cats again for about 5 years. They each got curious enough about Squirmy McSquirmer to lose a large handful of fur. They now do not appear until after bedtime.

Such is the life with a mobile baby. Let the games begin.