So, you’re going to a wine tasting bachelorette…

First of all, apologies.  My weekly #FBF post ended up as a #MBTILM (My Bad This Is Late Monday) post.  Sometimes you work until 11pm on a Friday and it really throws off your schedge for the weekend! But alas, here it is.

Bachelorette parties are the devil.  Not really, but if you are pregnant, trying to be pregnant, or in some type of miscellaneous category in there, they are really the worst.  And for the record, not because we don’t love the person we are celebrating, because we do.  But we are also thinking about everything we are doing, wondering if people are noticing whether we are drinking or not, considering the food options we didn’t get to choose and whether there are soft cheeses or random other things we shouldn’t be eating in there.  There’s a lot going on.  So, needless to say we aren’t free to have the wild time they are meant to be.

Now add on to the normal festivity level of these weekend-full soirees, the theme of wine tasting.  So, you’re flying to a destination…to spend the entire day tasting wine…and you can’t have any.  And you have to come up with some bullshit reason why you can’t.  And this is the kicker:

This should be a fun secret to keep for a few weeks and then reveal “remember when I said I was on antibiotics, well I am actually preggo!” But, in my case, when I had already dealt with the chemical pregnancy in January I was even more hesitant to share anything about potential pregnancies because of how that all went down.

The hubs and I were upset about the chemical pregnancy, certainly, but there was some substantial convincing you could do that it wasn’t real or wasn’t that “serious” because we never actually saw the words or the + sign on a test.  It never felt truly real. So I was still pretty optimistic, albeit ultra cautious moving forward.

We tried for a few months with no luck which was a bummer but I still had hope.  When May came along, I was chaperoning a trip to Disney World with our seniors (Yeah, I know, really tough life I am living at work!).  I was super excited for the trip, but I also knew there was a decent mathematical chance I was pregnant, and I wanted to know before we went-with, you know, a week full of roller coasters ahead of me and all.

I checked what day I could test with a decent accuracy level and I brought along a pregnancy test with me on the trip. TOTALLY CASUAL whilst sharing a room with my supervisor.  Got up early the first morning the have a lengthy pee break (circa 3 minutes) and there it was, negative.  Ok, well, guess I can ride as many rides as I want! Went about my business chaperoning the heck out of 200 “adults”, and came back like normal.

But then a few days passed, and my period was due, still nothing.  I decided to take another test, mistakenly bought the cheap one with the lines (do NOT recommend, too vague for my brain) and saw one bright line and one teeeeeeeeeeeny faint pink line. Brought it into the bedroom and asked my husband if he also saw what I thought was a figment of my imagination, and he definitely saw it.

Didn’t trust that nonsense, so went and bought a test with real words to take the next morning, and Monday there it was in big bold letters for the first time: PREGNANT. I was so excited.  Maybe my first test was too early, this one is legit.  Holy crap. Finally. Called my GYN’s office and the lady was so sure, so committed, that even with the bit of my brain that was worried, she reassured me.  She cancelled my annual pap scheduled for JANUARY…”you won’t be needing that anymore!” she chimed; scheduled me for a 16 week ultrasound and that was it.  I was like ummmmm shouldn’t you be more worried?  Don’t many pregnancies end early? Lady, I feel like you are jumping the gun, but if you’re this confident maybe I should be too.

Two full days of bliss later, I went to a barre class on Wednesday.  I was going really easy, much easier than I know I needed to be, but still.  Went to pee at the studio and saw the dreaded hint of pink on the tp.  Believe it or not I didn’t totally freak out.  This time was different. This time I had a positive test, the lady cancelled my future appointment, so I am sure it is fine. Right? 

On and off bathroom fear took over for the next two days and then I was to fly to VA on Friday for the wild bach weekend full of wine-my mind was racing.  Called the doctor, calm as ever they said this is totally normal, just relax, take it easy, and let us know if anything changes, you’r OK to go on your trip.

Cool. So now I am going to a wine themed bach party where I can’t drink, because I am pregnant, but also spotting, so it isn’t even a fun secret to keep because it is too scary to be excited.

Disclaimer: No shade is being thrown at any of the individuals referenced in this story.  None of anything they said or did was done with malice or intended to be hurtful in any way.  But, just keeping it 100 on how I was feeling.

I first texted my flying-mate that I was on antibiotics for a UTI and couldn’t drink, her response, and I quote “Oh. OK Sure. I don’t believe that for a second but alright.” Thankkkkkksssss for starting the weekend with me knowing no one will believe my excuse. Hawt.  Then, I proceed to tell her about my trip to Florida and how I had the best margarita ever in “Mexico” at Epcot.  I could see her wheels turning like hmm maybe my assumption was wrong.  And I thought at least there is a doubt.

First night wasn’t so bad, pizza and drinks at the apartment.  Pretty easy to fake a drink and hang like normal there.  Alright, I thought, maybe I can survive this.  Next day we drive to the hotel and the ginormous limo picks us up for a day of wineries.  I told the Sister-In-Law planning the festivities about my antibiotics and she was able to not have to pay for me for all the tastings.  This period of time was perhaps the most uncomfortable few hours I have had, mentally.

You see, there is something you should know about me.  I have super sonic hearing. I can hear people’s entire conversations on the other side of the room.  It is both a blessing and a curse.  In this case a curse because I was even more aware of my surroundings.  But I saw and heard my friends and acquaintances who were friends of the bride talking about me right in front of my face.  “Bullshit antibiotics, she’s pregnant.”  “I don’t know this other one said she drank last week.” “I don’t know, I don’t buy it.” Etcetera.  It SUCKED.  The thing is, I would want nothing more to have been for real pregnant, to have had an ultrasound, to have known it was fine, and then please talk all you want about me and why you think I am not drinking.  But in that moment, and given what I had already been through, it was a nightmare.

The rest of the afternoon was fine, more of the same, but whatever, nothing I could do about it.  And I love these people so I wanted to try and enjoy my time with them.  But all the while I wasn’t drinking, I was also going to the bathroom and still seeing spotting, so never convinced all was ok.  We went back to a hotel room for take out and drinks before the bars, I paid the sister in law for the wineries, and when I confirmed the lower price since I didn’t indulge, she winked at me and said “that’s fine mama”.  It literally stabbed me in the heart, because I hoped she was right, but it just made me so uneasy, and wishful, and sad.

The bars after a day of wineries were quite a site to be seen.  Bonus to not drinking, you get to witness all the tomfoolery and actually remember it.  At one bar one of my liquored up ladies, came up to me, bevvied-up and brazen and said “I know I’m not supposed to ask you this but I am anyway, are you pregnant?” And I had absolutely no keeping-it-cool left in me. So I started balling and had to go hide in the bathroom.  I cried because I was embarrassed by the whole experience that day, but mostly because I honestly didn’t know how to answer that question.  Technically, yes.  But in my heart of hearts my real gut answer was “Yes, but not for long.” Unfortunately in this case, my gut is usually right. So I basically ran away and said yeah you really aren’t supposed to ask that.

**Also, did I mention about 1/3 of the attendees at this bach party were leaving the wineries to go pump in the limo?  Yeah seriously.  I mean more power to them, do your thang ladies. But it is weird in that moment to really wish you had a reason you had to hook your boob up to a machine with them, but you don’t. Yet. So it was just salt in the wound.  Anyway, moving on.**

Next morning we are headed back to MA, we stop at the super swanky establishment, Waffle House, for a gourmet breakfast. Right before leaving there and heading about two hours back to the city to the airport I run to the bathroom and this time there was no longer spotting, I knew it was over (I’ll spare you the gory details).

I got into the car and just lost it with three of my friends in there, some of whom had no idea what the heck was going on.  They wanted to pull over, but I begged them to keep driving because at that point I just wanted to be home so bad.  In between sobs I told them what was going on and that was why I was acting so weird.  It was a very quiet and awkward car ride.

I then had to fly 3 hours back to Boston while in horrendous pain and emotionally defeated.  When I finally got back to my apartment I just went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet crying for like two hours with my husband sitting on the bathroom floor trying to console me.

It was truly the worst.  All the circumstances before, during, and after this debacle exacerbated all the awful feelings I was already having.  The actual worst part was that I wanted to have fun that weekend, hoped my friend whose party it was didn’t notice I wasn’t all there.  I spent all of my energy trying to make sure she had the best time and was not distracted by my sober-emotional-wreckness.  I wished I could have enjoyed it more with all my people, I really tried.  But it was just too much to ask of myself at that moment.  I did my best.

Regardless of the style of bachelorette or even just social function in general, I know my trying-mamas-to-be are with me in the struggle to try and be part of the fun while also not actually partaking in the fun.  But I promise you, friends and fam, we are trying!  We are with you celebrating, but there is a piece of our brains that is all over the place! And if I can give you one piece of advice, it is (no offense please), just shut up. If you think someone’s excuse is bullshit, just let them be.  Because it is weird, and you don’t know the details, so just shut your pie hole, drink your wine, and let them drink their club soda with lime in peace! 🙂

Spotting is bullshit.

There. I’ve said it. And no one can convince me that it is normal, so don’t bother trying!  I never even had spotting  before in my whole lovely life of menstruation and it has been nothing but a nightmare this year.  Have you ever felt scared every time you pee?  Because that is my life.  Afraid of what I might see and hoping I’ll see nothing.


Spotting the first time, in January 2016, was what I thought was starting my period and it felt normal, since my tests had been negative.  But, then the chemical pregnancy came to be and henceforth spotting=BAD.  So, in May, a few days after a positive test (which I will get into in another post) when I see the slightest hint of pink on the TP my brain automatically went to the worst case scenario.  Even though I spent 24 hours a day having a conversation with myself about how they said spotting can be totally normal, it can be from implantation, NO REASON TO WORRY, blah blah. Sure, Colleen, sure.  I’ll listen to your convincing arguments, but I know.

The worst part is the on and off.  One pee you’re in the clear (literally) and the next time there’s a little pink you have to hold up to the light because maybe it’s just a weird shadow.  I was basically drinking gallons of water because I realized I was avoiding going to the bathroom-if I don’t go, then I don’t have to look, right?  So, I started internally drowning myself so that I’d have no choice.  All the while saying no matter what, even if there is spotting, it is still TOTALLY FINE. You want to stay positive, but your gut just tells you it knows something is not right.

And when I started spotting a few days before my period was due in September, again like January I thought it was just the beginning of it.  But when it last a week and never turned into the real deal, I took a test again-positive.  WHAT THE HELL.  Seeing a positive test and not being excited about it is the worst.  You want to be jumping for joy, but you’re not because once there is even a smidge of blood on the scene, you’re already in the danger zone. The spotting was already happening, and you know it is no bueno, despite your inner monologue.

You call the doctor, each time, and they say don’t worry, just relax, take it easy, put your feet up, spotting is normal, unless you are (*graphic description warning*) bleeding through a pad in an hour there is nothing to worry about. Ok lady. Sure.  But every time there are all the things to worry about.


Now don’t get me wrong, I do actually get that it can be normal, and you don’t have to be alarmed, and it could be totally fine.  So to all my trying-to-be-mamas out there, don’t go freaking out due to my nonsense. But I’m just saying spotting is bullshit. Either bleed or don’t bleed, because I can’t handle the goddamn emotional roller coaster the bathroom trips have become for me this year.

Baby (Makin’) Moon

Dad, thanks in advance for not reading this one.  To spare us both the AWK. 🙂

I always thought Baby Moons were stupid.  No hate, hear me out! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I get it.  This is the last time you’ll be away, just the two of you, for like…ever. Blah blah. But my thought was why spend $$$ on a vacation when you’re going to be all round, and waddley, and you can’t have festive beverages, and you’ll be tired.  Doesn’t sound that fun to me.  Instead, I proposed, a baby-makin-moon.  Full of eating, drinking, being merry, and carefully timed shenanigans of course 😉 (from here forward known as shenannies).

We wanted to wait a HOT SECOND after we got married before “trying”, which thank God we did because who know trying would be so…trying.  But in December we were kind of on the same page  about getting this party started.  I had been taking prenatal vitamins for months before the wedding, per my doctor’s recommendation.  And had been tracking my cycle on my phone app, so while I was still relatively uneducated on the science of all things ovulation, I figured I was pretty regular so I had a decent idea of when would be aptly timed to take this trip.

Also, shout out to Delta for losing our luggage for a week after our Honeymoon and the subsequent vouchers to make up for it, which made this trip possible.  You’re the real MVP.

I had never been to Chicago, Kenny went for work and loved it, so we thought, why not go to a freezing cold tundra in the dead of winter?  So, off we went.  The trip was great, aside from the gross hotel room we had at the under-construction Marriott.

#ProTip: I love the HotelsTonight app, and always have better luck with smaller, boutique hotels than the big chains.  I should’ve gone with that, but we ended up checking out early and going to this awesome hotel right next door, The Gwen.  Amazing experience, highly recommend. If you want a referral code, hit me up.


Anyway, we ate what felt like all of the pizza that had ever been made, did a historical tour and a mob tour, went to this bomb Speakeasy, went to a few museums, tried some great tacos, went to a Bulls game, and saw a friend who moved there.  We also managed to squeeze in a fair amount of shenannies if I do say so myself.

It was a great time and I am really glad we did it. The best part is that we (I) had no expectations, yet.  I had no notion that anything would work right away, but I knew I was 33 and that we should probably get this train moving.  I wasn’t positive, I wasn’t negative, I was just like here we go. Caveat: I did go to a psychic with my friends in August.  I don’t even know if or how much I believe in that nonsense.  But she did say things about past and current affairs that were on point, so when she said “warn your husband that when you start trying and he thinks it will take a while that it probably won’t. Also, I see twins, do you have those in your family?”, I definitely perked up a bit.  (That lady can essentially kick rocks, by the way). But other than her crazy predictions, I was just in for the short or long haul.

So, when we got back and about two weeks later I started feeling really weird; lightheaded, a bit woozy, just off.  Also, I typically had some pretty key and regular predictors the few days leading up to my period, VERY tender breasts and breakouts on my face.  Weird things were happening, but those typical things weren’t happening, and I thought…could that crazy psychic lady be RIGHT?  The FIRST TIME?  No way?

Took a test a couple of days before I was due, negative.  Took another test the day after it was due, still negative.  Ok, I thought, you hear that just the activity of trying could mess with things, so I moved on.  Then started the spotting, which I thought was my period starting.  Normal.  But then for almost two weeks, only spotting.  Strange.

Finally, I called the doctor about the extended spotting, they recommended I come in for a blood test just to “rule out” pregnancy.  And given the bleeding and the negative tests, I went in knowing it would be nothing.  But then, the nurse calls and says “believe it or not your blood test came back positive (WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT) but just very low.  So, it’s either just starting or it might be a chemical pregnancy.”

Inner monologue: What in the crap is a chemical pregnancy!?!?!
-Essentially it is that the sperm and egg met, they hung out, fertilization happens, but never fully completes implantation and then you get your period about a week after it is usually due. Often due to chromosomal abnormalities.

If you want to read more about what they are check here.

Doctor sends me back in for blookwork in 48 hours to test again and see if it is going up or down-you’ll hear this 48 hour theme recurring for me a lot.  I go back, not knowing what to think at this point, and I get the call at work that it was going down, that this was a chemical pregnancy, and heard the term miscarriage for the first time.  It was crushing and so confusing.  And I was at work and had no idea what to do. Thank goodness for work IM where I could tell my supervisor I had to leave early and run away.

They scheduled a follow up appointment about a week later with one of the midwives at the OBGYN office who explains that his is a normal part of process (normal for who?), and that a very high percentage of women experience this, some who don’t even know (lucky me for knowing), and not to worry because this doesn’t impact your future ability to get pregnant (oh good, I will definitely NOT worry now).

It was a really shitty way to start the first month in the trying to have a family journey.  I know everyone’s struggle is different, and I can imagine trying for months and months with no result would be equally frustrating and upsetting.  But, for me, this starting point just really messed with my head and my ability to think positively moving forward. I yearn to go back to that naive week in Chicago where I was just in the “whenever it happens it happens” mentality.  Picturing it wouldn’t be instant, but also never picturing it would include such a roller coaster of devastation in the meantime.

Still a big fan of my baby-makin’-moon concept, just saying.  It did work, technically.  Just didn’t work as well as we hoped.  But, nevertheless, I highly recommend it! 😉 Maybe when I do get preggo the baby moon concept will become more enticing to me too!



Arizona. The land of margaritas, and weird future telling estheticians.

So, I took my mom on a trip to Arizona for her 60th birthday.  It was awesome.  #IdeaCredit goes to my friend/boss lady Meagan who did that with her mom.  We picked Arizona because it was warm, we have family there, and last but not least, it was one of the few non-Zika allowed destinations approve by the fertility doc. Also…Sedona…


After several months of testing and exploration, our doctor recommended IVF as our next step to our #parentgoals.  I’ll explain all that in a later post.  But we had our pre-op appointment set for March 3rd where you basically sign your life and all your past, present and future money away.  It lined up perfectly because my cycle was set to start on or about March 10th.

So we figured we’d give it one last college try before we enter the Science Phase.  In the meantime we were also doing a couple of support techniques.  I was taking twice a day progesterone supplements to support a potential pregnancy.  I was also taking baby aspirin to prevent any clots.  Both were to address potential issues from our previous attempts which could have contributed to previous losses, but were preemptive measures.

In addition I started acupuncture during that cycle, and through that also taking my temperature every morning before getting out of bed, aka basal temperature.  I thought it was cray cray, but your temperature can tell you when you ovulate and also when you’ll get your period if you track it regularly.  If you’re interested in reading more about basal body temperature you can read little here. Anywho, I’ll do a separate post about acupuncture, but I loved it and plan to go back once I am back to normal.  My only complaint is that it is a bajillion dollars, but that seems to apply to about everything I need for this whole baby making equation.

So, with all of these efforts and supports at play, and the timing of the trip, I brought a couple of tests with me to AZ.  I knew I would be in vacation mode and would want to indulge in a festive bevvie or two while there.  So, even though it was a couple of days early (which I’ve learned to avoid) I took a test Wednesday morning after we got there and it was negative.  I convinced myself I would be cool either way, but at least I would know whether I could partake or not.

Best part, when it was negative, I took a picture and sent it to the hubs with a cute note like oh well, bummer but you never know it could change in a few days (since I took the test a little early)…but WAIT.  Instead of sending it to Kenny…I somehow managed to send it to my Aunt who we were staying with by accident. #HasAnythingMoreAwkwardEverHappened? I’ve never tried so hard to un-send something.  But luckily my Aunt is great, and when I told her it was obvi an accident, she never said a word.

Then me and mum ventured to a fancy spa in Sedona, it was so beautiful and relaxing.  We had facials booked for the next day.  *Note, I booked a facial because my acupuncturist recommended I avoid a massage since pressure on various spots on the body could work against what we were doing; pushing energy out instead of keeping it in.  So, I did the facial, it was amazeballs, and the woman at the end says…ready for this…”I’ve got to be honest, you feel pregnant to me.  If not now, then soon.”  I was like SERIOUSLY?  I just took a negative test, but I’ve got to be honest, I thought she was right.

I figured the next day (day 28), if I didn’t get my period, I would test again just to see. My cycle is usually 26 days, but I usually waited until 28 to test so I could be really sure of whatever the test said.  Of course I woke up at like 4am, and was like “Here goes nothing”.  Sat on the toilet on my phone pretending I wasn’t hyper attuned to the passage of 3 minutes.  I peak over to the bathroom counter and there it is PREGNANT.


My mouth legit fell open.  From Wednesday to Saturday everything changed. Also, super earthy crunchy facial lady was RIGHT…based on my chin capillaries and the temperature of my feet. WTF?!?!

I walked back out into the bedroom and my mom was stirring and I had to tell her.  It was crazy, and exciting, and really felt different than all the times before.  We had been doing all this stuff to help, and it was our last shot at doing it the tradish way, and it worked.  It felt meant to be.

Still, I didn’t tell Kenny.  I waited, because I knew I had seen this visual a few times before, and then was crushed.  So, I decided to wait and tell him when I got back in person.  Partially because that was more fun, but more so because I was afraid things would go bad in the meantime.  I was thinking positive, but had all my previous experiences lurking in the back of my mind and decided to hold off.

But everything stayed the course, I called the doctor and set up bloodwork for when I got back and then wrapped the test up with Kenny’s souvenir because I’m hilarious, clearly. What’s a better souvenir than a bottle of hot sauce and a positive pregnancy test?

When I got back to Mass, it was Valentine’s Day by the way.  Kenny was at work, but had set up flowers and gifts and whatnot for when I got home, pretty cute.  I waited until he got home to give him his souvenir and bonus gift.  He opened it and of course…the word had disappeared from the test, but he’s wicked smahhht so he still got the idea.  It was awesome.

Next day, went in for blood work.  And for the first time in all the trying, I actually got a happy nurse calling me that afternoon.  She said and I quote, “Well, you are really pregnant!” My HCG (pregnancy hormone) was 276 which was a good number for being just under 5 weeks. Was given the test-again-in-48-hours directive I’ve heard many times before, but this time felt so promising.

It was a really awesome week.  The trip was great, the news was also great, all of it was fabulous!

I’m going to leave this one right here, because just writing it brought back all the joy and excitement I felt in the span of that week and a half.  So, let’s just leave it right here!




I’m overwhelmed.

I’m overwhelmed, in a good way, for the first time in a long time.  I’m not sure I can even put into words the response that I’ve gotten today after finally putting this story out there.  I was flooded with comments, re-posts, private messages, texts, and head nods at work.  Everything from words of encouragement, to “I’ve been there”, to “I know someone who needed this”.  I even had a couple of people tell me they’re going through loss right now and that it’s too raw for them to talk about right now.  My response, GIRL.  That’s been me for the last 15 months, I feel you.  I get it.  It’s all been a lot, in a good way.

Also, some people are even saying I’m funny, which in all honesty is the ultimate goal if we are keeping it all the way real. 🙂

Things I have thought at some point today:

  • At least people understand how/why I’ve not been myself
  • At least people won’t think I’m pregnant because I’m chubby right now
  • At least people won’t think I’m pregnant because I’m not drinking right now
  • At least I don’t have to explain this to more people in person whilst sobbing
  • I really wish I could have a glass of wine
  • My friends, family and network are the BOMB (not new, just confirmed)

The range of emotions I have felt today, include, but are not limited to:

  • Terrified
  • Nauseous
  • Free
  • Relieved
  • Energized
  • Validated
  • Sad
  • Honored
  • Shock
  • A couple of times, annoyed. To be explained later.
  • Loved
  • Empowered
  • Encouraged

If the enormous reaction I received has done anything, it has proven the need for this, or stuff like this.  Our ovaries should not be hiding in the shadows!  Sometimes having some lady cojones, and putting yourself out there, while utterly terrifying, also feels pretty awesome.

Try it, if you want to!

My plan is to try and post twice a week.  Once a week will be a throwback post where I talk a little about what I’ve been through already.  I guess the bonus to being too chicken to put this out for a long time is that I have a stock pile of topics and stories ready.  The other weekly post will be more random; what I’m currently dealing with or just a general topic like one of these beauties I’ve been working on: Resentment 101, If One More Person Tells Me To Relax, How to Unsuccessfully Mask That You’ve Been Crying, and Why Do All of the Shitty Phone Calls Come When You’re at Work?

I hope you’ll subscribe to the blog to stay connected (if you’re into that sort of thing) and feel free to comment as well.  This is for all of us.




Did you ever wish you didn’t drink?

Never did I pay as much attention to drinking as I have in the last year and a half.  Listen, I come from an Irish family.  Let’s be honest…I like a bevvie.  There is not an occasion celebration, or in memoriam for that matter, that does not have dranks as a central part of the event planning in my world.

I’ve gone plenty of time without drinking.  But when planning a girls weekend, or meeting friends for a happy hour, or watching a football game, it would certainly be odd and noticeable for me to not partake in beveraging.  I keep asking my husband, aka lifelong designated driver, if I’m an alcoholic.  His response is always, “No, but you definitely just like drinking.”  Haha.  Not to make light of alcoholism, it’s a real thing, and I know many in recovery.  But my drinking, or lack thereof, has been a real topic of conversation in my household the past year.


When drinking is a regular part of your social life, it is apparent when it is suddenly not.  It would be cool if what people suspected were true.  But it is substantially less fun when they are wrong.  When you are not drinking because you had to get two sets of methotrexate injections in your cheeks to kill the rapidly reproducing cells currently located in the wrong part of your body, and that gets processed through the liver, so you need to abstain.

For the first time, it was actually fun to pretend to be drinking, when I got the positive test in Arizona.  Because it felt different.  And we had been doing lots of interventions to support the process; baby aspirin, progesterone, acupuncture, etc. So, I was like OK, this is it!  I made a fake mimosa with club soda at my cousin’s birthday party, and secretly ordered a virgin margarita at the Tex-Mex restaurant.  Kind of a fun secret to keep.  But, by  about 5 day later, I had spotting and my hormone levels weren’t rising to normal levels, so there was already suspicion from my previous experience that this wasn’t good.  So, pretending to drink beer at my cousin’s engagement party…not nearly as fun.

I know that at this point in my life; recently married, 34, etc., when there is a drinking scenario and I am clearly not participating, I know the assumption is #knockedup.  Unfortunately, as much as I would love to be keeping that secret, and truthfully understanding why most people wait until after 12 weeks to share, because you really just don’t know, I just hate knowing that is what people are thinking.  Because in my case, it’s been either wrong, or right, but short-lived.

I just sometimes wish I was just a tea-totaler from the start and then know one would have anything to speculate about!


Guilt.  it’s like a 4 letter word, but it has 5 letters, so it’s worse.  Guilt has probably been the darkest looming shadow over me for the past several months.  The inner monologue of guilt is never-ending, and it’s actually quite rude. *Shut up inner guilt monologue, ain’t nobody got time for that.*

On any given day or week after a loss my brain sounds something like this:

“What if I didn’t teach Zumba?  What if I did more yoga? What if I could just relax more?  What if I ate better?  What if I didn’t have that iced tea with hibiscus in it? What if I drank too much wine? What if I knew sooner?  What if I found out later? What if we started trying  sooner? What if I am too fat?  What if my intense workout regimen broke me? What if I am broken? What if I can’t do this at all? What if I’m doomed? What if I did something to deserve this?”

My head is never a calm place to be, ever.  Unless I’m sleeping, which is why I like sleeping so much. And then there is residual guilt because of everything that is affected by your physical and mental reactions to what is happening.

So then I have the “who am I letting down” narrative that flows through my head for work, friends, family, hub, students.  I had to step down from advising Alternative Break because it was going to line up with my IVF cycle, turns out due to the latest and greatest in the pregnancy woes, I had to push that back. But, still.  I had to miss teaching dance and fitness classes for a few weeks.  Have you ever had to tell 14 5 year olds you can’t teach today but you’re there to watch?  Well, it goes something like this:

Class, I have a boo boo so I can’t teach today, but I am here to watch and give you tips!

Why? What happened? What’s hurt?  Is it your leg?

Yup, it’s my leg.

How did you hurt your leg?

At work.

Isn’t this your work?

Yeah, but I also have other jobs.

When your real answer is “I’m actually desperately trying to have an adorable and annoying 5 year old like you eventually, but instead I have an embryo growing inside my ovary and it’s really dangerous so I can’t do any physical activity so it doesn’t rupture. But just practice your dance to Getting Jiggy Wit It, please.” LOL

Anyway, you can see if you read the article from my first post that guilt is the feeling most people dealing with miscarriage are dealing with; a lot having to do with the fact that most people think it is within your control when it truly isn’t.  Not saying there aren’t any steps you can take to help.  But, there are plenty of the most relaxed, healthy people who have struggles conceiving or maintaining a pregnancy.  And there are lots of people who don’t live the healthiest lifestyles who are lucky enough to have a healthy pregnancy.  Soooo many more pregnancies end in miscarriage than most of us realize.

So, when people say things like if you just relax and stop trying, or have you tried this magical concoction or any of those things, they don’t make you feel better. They just make you think of another thing you are doing wrong or could have done to prevent it.  And from personal experience, the last thing I need is someone telling me something I could have or should do…because trust me.  I’ve already told myself that.

My biggest hurdle has been to release guilt, to realize there is nothing I could have done to prevent this, and to be able to move on and to continue to have hope.  Because that is something that I can actually control.


I Have a Love/Hate Relationship with your Pregnancy Announcements


Ugh.  You pick up your phone, and scroll through FB, all of a sudden you see a tiny pair of sandals, or some “crib eviction notice”, a zoomed in sonogram, or some other creative way of announcing someone you know is expecting.  And your first instant thought is, fuuuuuuuuucking seriously. And then your second though is, “you’re an ahole, how dare you not be excited for (insert name of friend here)_______.”

The thing is you’re not NOT excited for that person or those people.  It might have come easy for them, or maybe they’ve had a bumpy road like you have, you have no idea.  But all you know is that you want to feel just unadulterated joy for them, but that is not how you feel.

Cue every 2-3 days of my life for the past year and a half.  I don’t think I’ve gone a week without logging in to social media and finding out someone else is having a baby. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had to hide some people from my timeline.  The thing is, I am happy for them.  I am even often impressed with their creative or sweet announcements.  But also, I have had my  FB “announcement” planned for about 15 months, and kept waiting for the chance to use it.  For the record, the idea is bomb and I’m not telling anyone, I’m hanging on to that shit until it’s necessary and I better get a bajillion likes on it when I do post it.  Anyway, I digress.  So, when I see others’ I feel some combo of happy, sad, and jealous.  And then guilty for not feeling only happy.  It’s a vicious cycle. But thus is the life.

This is not meant to discourage these posts.  I’ve thought about it a lot, and knowing what I know now and how seeing those things might make people on my newsfeed feel, I’ve debated in my head about whether I would want to or not.  I’ve also debated at what point in a healthy pregnancy would I even feel safe to post something, after going through what I’ve gone through? I’m thinking like week 37 give or take, lol.  But in the end, I say, you do you boo.  I am sure when that does finally happen for me, I will want to shout from the rooftops, take a pic of that bun in the oven or hold a Prego jar.  In the end even if it does give me a twinge of “oh man, why not me” it actually ultimately gives me hope too!