I'll admit it, I've got the green eyed monster...

There, I said it. I'm jealous. I see people with their babies and I lose a small grip on reality. I start thinking about Bailey and how I had wished the pregnancy to hurry along. How I had lived the ultimate in parental nightmares after birth. I see kids about her age, with her hair color, with her feisty disposition, wearing that signature pink, you name it. My mind starts to wander and I can only think about her for a while. Its been getting worse though, I'll admit. I'm hoping putting it out there that it helps. I'm jealous of many. I see all the people in our ACD parents group getting pregnant again and I can't help but think "We should either be pregnant or have a beautiful lil lady that is 8 months old and starting to cause even more chaos than we could imagine, and we could be thinking about trying again to make her a big sister" But that's not our reality. Yet, anyway. I can't help the desire to keep trying for more children. We want to have our childbearing days done as close to 30 as possible. I want to have a little one to keep me up at night, watching the wonder as a baby grows and learns all the little things. But, things aren't working out that way at all. My body is protesting right now and proving that it doesn't think that the time is right. Really wish mind and body would come together more, but hopefully soon.
So there it is. One of my biggest weaknesses right now. I want more children, NOW.
And before anyone thinks its smart to start pressing me about "Are you sure? You can't replace Bailey. Are you going to be able to handle another baby? Are you sure about being ready?", yes, I feel I am ready. I know that I lost Bailey. She'll never be replaced or replaceable. She's a huge hole in my heart that will never heal. I know that it isn't going to be easy, but I can't keep playing it "safe" and never move on. I believe that I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I trust God doesn't give more than we can handle and that He shows us what we are able to deal with. I know He won't put too much on my plate. I just have to wait until He gives me the blessing I ask for.
Yea, we have a lot going on now with trying to buy a house and all, but even if I get pregnant this cycle, the baby wouldn't be due until November/December. Plenty of time to make everything ready for a new baby. I also see the look on Anthony's face. He knows that he has a sibling who is now watching over him and visits. He even pokes my belly like he did when I was pregnant (although its finally shrinking and getting much smaller since we started working out in January...down 15 lbs!!) and I swear today it seems like he wanted to kiss my belly to kiss the baby. The baby he knew was coming, but never came home. He's no idiot. He's a very smart little boy who knows that something is up. I was an only child much my life because my brother never lived with us for more than a few months every summer and my younger siblings are much younger than me. Adam is an only child. Neither one of us want Anthony to be an only child. Period. He wants siblings. He loves to help in every way possible and he is actually very good with younger kids. He's also learning so much more in his weekly classes that will help him to understand being a sibling even more.
So there it is. A reason for my attitude. A reason for my frustrations. A reason I've been holding people close, shoving others away, and being neurotic about things. I'm wanting to give all this love and attention intended for my daughter, but don't have a direction for it.
So, I'm sorry for being an extra big bitch. Maybe now people will start cutting me some slack.
But probably not.
And I'm not holding my breath.

Grey Hairs, 10 years, and The Unknown

Weird title huh? I promise, it should all come clear by the end of this.

So, I wasn't going to blog tonight, but I can't stand it anymore. There are so many things on my mind and I just HAVE TO get them out. I'll try to do this one topic at a time, although they might run together at times.

Grey hair. I have it. I noticed the first ones not long after Bailey's heightened chance of Down's came in. Especially after the heart defect was diagnosed. So much stress. Well, I know it does nothing, but I pulled a few out last night. Yea, I know that if you pull out one, you'll get 2 coming in its place. Well, at 26, I'm not going to leave as many in my head so that they can be found. I'll take the chance that more come in. I just can't deal with Grey Hair. I know that everyone starts greying at a different time, but its not MY time. I refuse. I don't want to start dying again, but I will start highlighting if it will help with my issue. The night I found the most was when I was down at RMH. All that stress managed to turn many hairs grey. I noticed 5 one night. Hadn't noticed them before and now here they were. My daughter in the NICU fighting for each breath and I'm going grey because I can barely handle the fact that I have a second kid, my oldest is having issues being close to me (I was afraid to get too close and have him taken too/neglecting one for the other/etc), I had given birth, and I couldn't take her home. Things went to hell that fast. That's why Adam and I both think that this whole year has shaved EASILY 5-10 years off our lives. His hair loss has accelerated and my greying is out of control. They are long, thick, and tend to show themselves to everyone. As if to say "This woman may look like she's in her 20s, but she's lived enough to be well into her 30s. Make sure to let her see you checking out these hairs!" Yea, I see you looking at them. I see you noticing and the looking at my face closer. You are looking for wrinkles. Well, I got them around my eyes (Crying so much? Lack of sleep?) and forehead (too much worry and for sure not enough sleep). I've aged about 10 years. My body is more beat up (I can't even climb into bed without making tons of bodily creaks and groans and my back and hips hurt like they are broken), my mind is slipping (can't remember simple things, I have to write it all down), I'm desperate for someone to talk to (and therapy sucks and does nothing if you can only go 1-2 times in 6 weeks! I'd love to have someone bring up Bailey and just talk with me about her. Everyone knows what she means to me, tell me how much she means to you.

Lets top that off with something that will really boggle your brain. There's something that lives in our apartment with us. No, its not a relative that won't leave. Its a spirit. I've seen red dots where I shouldn't see anything but black nothingness. Adam swore he saw someone tall walk past our bedroom one night while he was flipping from one side to the other. I've had a full body ice cold and chills feeling before. I've walked into the living room and felt that huge temp change. I've had Anthony lose it in my arms and freak out, staring off into the opposite corner, unable to look away but unable to feel safe without me around. Well, it happened again last night. Anthony wakes up in the middle of the night. Adam goes in after a while and then I hear him calling me to come in. Ok, so while he's doing all he can to calm Anthony, I walk in and feel a HUGE temp difference and see Adam and Anthony on the glider, staring in the corner and looking more than slightly spooked. I asked what was going on and take Anthony (who can't get into my arms fast enough) and start commanding in the corner they are both looking at "Get out of my home. You aren't welcome, get out. I don't want or allow you to be here. Leave if you have evil intentions." The temp comes up, the chills start cutting back, and Anthony starts to calm down a bit. He's still sobbing, and this is when Adam tells me why he was so freaked out.

Adam and opened Anthony's door and was waiting for his eyes to adjust when he saw how freaked Anthony was, he went in and felt the huge temp difference, it looked even darker than normal, and Anthony was flipping out, hardcore. He had gone in, grabbed Anthony, and gone over by the door. It was he only way he felt he was ok. I came in and the changed started to happen soon after. I felt it too though, when I went in.

I believe in spirits and all and know that not everything is good only. This felt BAD. It ended up leaving, but it caused some major problems. Not happy about that one bit. Took an hour to get Anthony to stop sobbing and another 30 mins to get things going back to us all going to bed. I have no idea what to think or do. It throws me for a loop. I don't like it at all. Lucky for me, Anthony did end up calming and sleeping through the rest of the night.

I don't like the feeling that there is nothing I can do.

UGH!!!

I just don't know what to do anymore. I just can't deal with all of this right now. Apparently, I didn't take into consideration, someone else's feelings and opinion (hmmm...wonder why that could be? More on this theory later) and told someone yes when I should have said no. Now what do I do? This person needs to make new arrangements and I'm not even sure what the reason behind the problem is. And I have to make myself look like an ass because I didn't even think it would be an issue.

And I'm really frustrated about one other thing. We had talked about starting ttc again in January (medically should be ok, mentally...well...) because it was 6 months from when Bailey was born. Well, therapy is making other things bubble up (the rape, the miscarriage, other various issues I have with whatever) and its making me wonder how mentally ready I'll be ever. Lots of times I find myself talking about Bailey without a tear (sad feelings, but no tears) and other times (far fewer times) I can't stop blubbering while trying to talk. I mean break down and can't get a full sentence out without a body wrenching sob. Which makes me think, when do I know when I'm ready to start trying again? Obviously God isn't going to put up a big, flashing, neon sign telling me "Ok, Megan. Go for it!". But how do I know? It makes me feel like I have to put everything Bailey in a box (physically, mentally, emotionally) and in a way leave it behind. Not that I need to forget her, but not form everything in my life around her. Well, how the hell do I do that when I would have had every single choice be centered around the kids? Of course she's going to be the basis in which I gauge certain things. She was my daughter. She lived, she fought, she died. And now things I do (packing things away, trying again, looking at her stuff, etc) helps her feel even more real. This little girl, I carried her for nearly 39 weeks. She showed me that I can give birth without pain meds. That I can endure one of the most painful situations a parent can go through. That I can pick up everything around me and somehow march on. I know that the therapist isn't asking me to forget her, but I don't know what she's really wanting me to do. I'm always going to have an especially hard time with all of this. She was my little girl. I spent EVERY DAY by her side. I wasn't away from her for more than a few hours, ever. I was the first in the family to hold her.

So where do I go from here? I know I'm never going to forget her, but how do I come to a place where I (and others) can say that I've accepted it. I know she isn't coming back. I know its real that she's gone. Trust me, every morning, I have to accept this fact. How do I get to where everything is "OK" again? With the miscarriage, I just blogged it out and I knew that I wanted to try again as soon as medically possible (even though it ended up taking 11 months). I know I want to get to trying again as soon as possible. I know why I want to do it and I know that I'm not trying to replace her as NOTHING can replace her. But I don't want it to hinder me building my family. We want our kids close in age and we don't want to be spending our 30s and 40s raising our kids and end up old and tired before we get to enjoy our lives. I haven't told anyone really about this idea of trying again so soon, so if you are reading this and are either on my facebook or know our families, don't say a word. I'll deny it faster than you can blink and I'll throw you under the bus. Its really no one's business when we do these things and since its that kind of thing, opinions about "Its too soon" can be shoved up the hind end. Don't want to hear it. We know why we plan these things out. Nothing else really matters. Its our family.

But in the mean time, I've got to get myself to a place where I can accept everything. I've been pregnant 3 times and only have one child that survived. I miscarried one within days of finding out we were expecting and I've buried one that I thought I would be able to take home and keep around me forever. One with a problem that we were told is fixable and she would get a full and happy life. One with a problem no one could have seen and that very problem is what took her away from us so quickly.

I know the next pregnancy is going to be crazy. I'll be over analyzing everything (like I did with Anthony) and won't feel safe until its a year old. I'll want to be with the baby every waking minute because I know how quickly a baby can be taken. Getting me out of the house without the baby is going to be a challenge. I might end up not giving Anthony the attention we all know he needs because I'll be so worried that I'm going to lose the baby and not have spent every possible minute near by. I already beat myself up because I should have been in her nursery more. I should have been by her side more. I'll never have that time back. I feel that I some how could have kept her here a little longer had I been there. I'll never know. I could have ended up doing more harm by being bedside more. I'm just scared of going down the same road again. Either a miscarriage or another NICU nightmare. I just don't know what to think or how to know if I'm "ready". Will I ever be?

Oh, and my theory? There have been more than a few decisions made that I had no idea what was going on or that a final decision was made. I'm not always on board with the choice made. Many times, I'm actually on the other end, wishing for a different choice to be made. Maybe I was returning the favor?

My baby died.

Ok, now that we have that out in the open, can we stop treating me like I have a communicable disease and want to give it to you? Stop ignoring or avoiding me, that just shows me that you can't get past it and don't want to work through your discomfort to help me. It tells me that you don't want to think that infant loss can happen, but it does. All the time. Seriously. Its not a disease, not contagious, you aren't going to lose your children by talking to me about mine. You think I don't want to hear about your kids? You are wrong. I want to hear about them. I want to know how things are going with them. I might blank out or shed some tears, but that's because I'm thinking about how I would love to have these things myself and I'm mourning the fact that I will never have them. You think that bringing up my little girl will hurt me? You ever think that I might want to talk about her? That since you talk about your kids, why can't we talk about mine? Have you forgotten that she lived? She was here. She lived and breathed for 20 days. She even got a social security card and insurance card! The government issued a birth certificate for God's sake! Why would I want you to forget she was here? You think its hard being you being around me when I'm dealing with this? How about putting on my shoes for a day. You wake up from a nightmare in which someone is trying to hurt or keep you from your kids, you have a baby that you know you are going to lose, etc, and you wake up scared to death. You can't even get out of bed to check on your toddler in the next room because your legs won't move. You can barely see because you are crying so hard, scared that someone is in there hurting your child. But you can't move. Finally, your body comes around and you can move again. You go into your toddler's room and pick him up from his crib. Something on the dresser catches your eye. Oh, damn, its her memory box. You think back to everything that you endured while in the hospital. Snap back to reality, now you have to go about your day, thinking about how things could have been, had your baby not died. Then try looking in your phone for someone to talk to. Nope, they don't talk to me anymore. Nope, they ignore my calls. Nope, they cut ties with me. Nope, they don't want to talk to me anymore. Notice a pattern? So you sit on the couch and think about what to do to fill up the day. You shouldn't sit on the couch the whole time, but you can't bring yourself to clean yourself up and go out. Where would you go? You don't have money to spend, you'll run into people who don't know what happened and only say insensitive things "Its for the best. She's better off this way. Everything for a reason. She would have had major issues. You can always try again. You are young. Its not like she really lived." etc. You don't have people you can visit because they don't get it or just don't want to hang around you. So you stay home. Going to the park means you have to chase around a toddler who just wants to run and you don't even have someone with you to help or even talk to. So you chase your kid around the house and notice something from when you were in the hospital and flash back to those days. Remember, you have no one to talk to because they basically ditched you and the only person you feel you can open up to 100% is at work.

Sounds sucky huh? So think about it like this. You avoid me, I'm going to count you out of my life. I'm tired of people treating me like I'm the elephant in the room. I've gotten to where I don't care if I make others uncomfortable. I want to talk about my kids, just like you. Just because I never got to bring her home doesn't mean she is nothing. She was my everything for those 20 days. I formed my life around her (and tried to around Anthony, but that wasn't the easiest).

By the way, I have my own problems. I have guilt that I didn't spend enough time with her. I wasn't by her side the whole time I was in the hospital. I could have been in there far longer until they booted me out and gone back in soon after going to eat. I should have been there more, insisted on giving a sponge bath at least one other time. Read to her more, talked to her more, decorated her isolete, something. I didn't get the chance to. I thought I had more time. The rug was yanked out from under my feet. I LIVED at the hospital and was living on 3 sets of clothing the whole time (until Adam came down with more) and I only had a single pair of ratty old flip flops that I had to wear almost the whole time. I was on my feet so much that my ankles were as big as softballs, almost as big as cantelopes. I only went back to the Ronald McDonald house to sleep and shower. As soon as I was up, I pumped, showered, and drove to the hospital. I wouldn't go home until about 11pm, if not later. I would be there 14 hours a day. And yet I feel I didn't spend enough time at her bedside. I know she loved me being there, but it was so hard, seeing her hooked up to those IV lines and ECMO. Knowing that others in the room are getting to hold and nurse their babies, I had to come to terms with not getting to hold her for a long time. August 1 (day before we let her go), the staff had put up new "Kangaroo Care" calendars for the nurses to mark off when momma got to kangaroo (skin to skin contact with baby on your chest). HOW CRUEL. I couldn't and probably would never get to kangaroo my daughter. At that point, we knew her heart was starting to fail, along with her kidneys. She was painfully swollen to the point her skin had a sheen to it. The tissue in her skin was breaking down from her not being able to pee off the extra fluids, but with failing kidneys, you can't pee nearly as well. When she died, we weighed her and found out that she had gained 4 lbs. 4 lbs of fluid on her poor little body. She was only 8 lbs at birth, so 4 is a LOT for someone that size. I'll never forget how heavy she was when they put her in my arms again before we pulled her vent out. I wasn't ready to feel that change at all.

Now how uncomfortable do YOU feel. Here I am, living a parent's worst nightmare. And having to do it quite publicly. Want to know something even more messed up? My husband isn't able to grieve logically either. He has people asking how I am, not even bothering to realize that he lost his little girl too. He lost all the hopes and dreams that she represented. He lost a part of his heart and soul too. Ask him how he's doing first. Worry about me after he's told you how he is.

Yes, we are in therapy. Guess what? That isn't going to make the pain go away. Nothing will. So get over it and rather than worrying about your comfort or saying the wrong thing, stop avoiding us and ask us how things are going. Don't freak or freeze.

My baby died, yes. But I'm dealing with it. Don't try to heal my broken heart, but don't try to make me forget her. I just might hit you if you do.

Yea, I'm done

So sick and tired of it. Of stupid or stubborn people. Invading my life and trying to drag me down. Trying to turn me against the very people I love and who support me. Starting with a certain pain in the ass 28 year old who just wont grow up. Thats right, my brother. Tried to reconnect wth him but thats bit me in the worst way. I tried to get him to call our mom and just let her know he's still alive. He didn't even bother responding. He let his guard dog fiancee do it for him, basicaly calling my mom a mean bully. If you know my mom at all, you would know she never says anything to hurt someone. She doesnt hold back, but she doesnt say things to hurt them. She aways says what she means with the best of intentions. I dont tolerate people talking such garbage about the people I love. Too bad my brother doesnt understand what hes doing to our mom.

Then there are other...lets call them toxics...that have come into my life trying to get close and ending up trying to mess up this or that for me. I've done my best so far to cut them out of my life. With the battles I have coming up, last thing I need is a shift in focus away from my family. The only thing I want to pass along should those people ever pass by my blog is this. You make your own happiness by keeping yourself in a better light, caring for others, never wishing ill will to others, and never showing how rude and uncaring you can really be. Never be the one to throw the first punch.

I really hope you find happiness in your life. g

Not sure why I even try anymore...

Heads up, I'm in a really bad fucking mood. REALLY bad. If you don't want to hear about it, there's still that little X in the upper corner or you can always click that back button. If you want puppies and rainbows, go to the kids' blog and hang out there.
I'm not really sure why I put so much effort forward. I'm one of those people who will give of themselves until it hurts even if I know full well I won't get shit back. This time is NO different. You can say that I'm being petty or that its called being a good person to not expect something in return or to expect help, but I like knowing that people give a shit about the help I give. I used to go over to Adam's cousin's house almost DAILY to hang out with her because very few of her friends would come over and spend time with her and her daughter, especially in the early days when she wasn't able to go anywhere with her daughter because of her medical condition (which is now cleared up and she's a perfectly happy, healthy little lady) and the baby being on oxygen and monitors. I liked spending time there, it was girl time, and her daughter was just the most adorable little tyke since my sister. I grew like REALLY attached to both of them and I feel that they grew attached to me also. This cousin ended up being the MOH in our wedding and was a PHENOM friend. If I needed some advice, she was RIGHT there and I in turn made sure I was RIGHT there for her when she needed me.
WELL, now Its coming up on Easter (we have 2 Easters this year, one this weekend and the other ON Easter), and its also Adam's Grandpa Flo's birthday. I thought that since I'm horrible at handing out photos of Anthony, I would put together an album full of the most adorable photos of Anthony since birth. All fine and good, right? Well, I wanted to include Adam's cousin and her daughter in this idea, so I asked. They were on board with the idea since she is always trying to send up photos of her daughter but is afraid that Grandpa Flo doesn't put them out because he *might* feel its not fair to us and Anthony because he doesn't have as many photos of him. I know I'm horrible at getting photos out. No need to rub it in. Trust me, I see the stack of photos and notice all the ones on the camera and computer and keep thinking "I really need to send some out!" but rarely do. Not always my fault, but I'll take the blame none the less. Well, Adam's Cousin (BTW, her name is Holly) starts asking me how far to go back, what kind of photos, how many, that kind of thing. Her daughter is like 4 years old. I told her choose as many as you like, we can always get more pages and its a binder type album so he can always add even more after we give him this. Cool beans, right? WRONG. I've been up late working on this stupid thing ALL BY MY SELF because my lazy husband is more into the apps on his phone and sleeping rather than sitting his happy little ass down and helping me. We went through probably a few thousand photos from our moms and our cameras and phones. We picked out some of the ones we liked, but we couldn't get them all since the battery in our new camera was dead. Charge it up and Adam decides that instead of just getting this all said and done LAST night, he wants to fully charge the battery for the camera before we go messing with putting those photos on. I knew that recipe was going to blow up in my face, and sure as shit, it did.
I don't work many hours outside the house, but I do work my ass off as much as I possibly can with what limitations my body is giving me. I get home from work, dead tired, sore, can barely move and just want SLEEP. Adam instantly wants me to get Anthony ready for dinner, get him fed, clean him up, change his diaper, get him into pjs, get his sippy ready, and anything else in between. Umm, never mind that I was up with the kid since about 8, changed 2 poopy diapers in less than an hour, fed and cleaned him up from two previous meals (one of which was during the time I was getting ready for work TYVM. I was late because of this clean up), got him dressed and out the door all while dealing with his mood swings from absolutely insanely happy to total demon child. I didn't get a break and Anthony's nap was almost a joke. Like 30-45 mins. And I had to fight that whole time to get him down. Yay, me. Right? Nope.
Adam seems to think that all I do is sit around and do nothing all day and that time with Anthony all alone is puppies and rainbows, sunshine and fluffy clouds. He seems to think that nothing goes wrong, I don't have problems with this or that, and that its easy as pie to take care of this kid. It really isn't. I don't know how moms of multiples do it. This kid is ALWAYS into something he's not supposed to (including his own poopy diaper, which he tried to pull off before I knew it was poopy and tried to change it), screaming for fun, and making the house (which WAS really clean) look like an F5 tornado JUST ran through. Adam gets to be out of the house for 9 hours a day. Of course when he comes home, he's going to be tired, but he's also going to have that super appreciation for Anthony and all his crazy antics. He has the calm mind set when coming in that he's not going to fly off the handle when the kid is grinding yet MORE goldfish into the rug like I do.
So, after getting Anthony to bed, I came out and crashed out for maybe an hour on the couch. I was POOPED. I'm pregnant, on my feet and having to hustle at work to keep up with people who just don't get it that pregnant means I can't run, I've got a super energetic toddler at home who wears me out half way through the day, and I've got some serious body pains that the clinic drs (not my regular OB, the ones that we go to monthly for the heart u/s) don't seem to think are important. I've got pains in my belly that I hesitate to call painful Braxton Hicks (bh) contractions and they are painful enough to catch my attention and steal away my breath. When I get home, I sit on the couch for 5 mins and become unable to move faster than frozen molasses. My hips and knees lock up and my back feels like someone is pulling all my muscles and pinching them. I'm not in the mood to take care of Anthony and the kid only has about 90 mins from when I get home (around 7:30pm) until we get him carted off to bed. Why do I have to take care of the kid all by myself during that time also after I spent from 8-4 dealing with the kid's tantrums and wild streak and only got about 3 hours of a break. Its not a 9 hour break where I get to completely clear my head and I come back in the house and am able to jump back into momma mode. I need more time, but that would require working more hours which my body doesn't seem to want to handle right now. So I try to just suck it up.
I get up from the couch and its like 11:15 and I want to get the rest of these photos picked out (since he put it off until tonight to finish this up and I'm finally feeling somewhat human again) and he tells me to just do it myself. No. Last night he was getting all over my case for picking out too many photos and all. Umm, we are just ordering the prints, we can ALWAYS not include some if it comes down to it! Plus, what if I don't get ones he really wants in? Then I'm the horrible wife that never lets him have his opinion. No win there. So I sit down and tell him I can't do shit, I don't know how to upload with the new camera (its totally different from the old camera and he never told me what to do with the 5 windows that pop up when we hook the camera to the computer), so I'm basically screwed no matter what. He makes a big deal over walking his happy little ass over to help! Then its only like 20 more photos that we didn't have on the computer, but he can't be bothered to stand there and help sort through 20 freaking pictures to get this over and done with. I also have my mil's old camera card, but I just want copies of those since mostly, they are too blurry to print, but I like having copies of all the photos taken of my kid. Call it controlling if you like, I don't care. I like being able to brag about him and show off photos that I don't have too! Well, I ended up doing the WHOLE thing by myself and I'm not even getting a thank you. Adam crashed out on the couch (he made this new rule for himself that he needs to have his eyes closed by midnight/1am every day no matter what) and won't even move. Not that it would matter if I woke him up. I have to wait like 5-10 mins after waking him up to ask him anything because he'll start this sleep talk nonsense. He looks fully awake, but he's not.
He found a few candy bars I had brought home the other day. I brought one for him and two for me. His was his ultimate favorite and mine were just pregnancy cravings that I had. I was good and held off until this point, so I get a reward. Well, while I was out of it, he handed me both of mine (I guess) but they fell out of my hand since I was napping. So he puts one in the fridge, eats his, and then I guess notices that I hadn't touched either of mine and EATS THE ONE I WANTED THE MOST! DUDE. I'm not allowing myself caffeine, lots of salt, lots of sugar, and lots of junk food. The least you can do is leave my fucking food alone. I bought it for myself with full intention of eating it, and he took the liberty to shove it down his throat. Bye bye peanut butter bar. I really wanted to eat that thing too. Alas, yet another casualty of me not snarfing it down as soon as I had paid for it, I guess. I bring things home for him and if he doesn't touch it for a week, I'll remind him and if he still doesn't do anything with it and I feel a craving, I'll take it, but I'll get him another next time I work. I work TWO FREAKING DAYS a week. I don't get out of the house much more than that because there is no where to go, no one close by to see, and I just don't have the energy all the time. He's outside the house for 9 hours a day 5-6 days a week. He can pick up that same thing of mine that he just took. But he has to take mine. WTF? But if I take something he hasn't touched in a long time, I get reamed over the coals for an hour. But I'm not allowed to be upset when he takes something I had bought for myself literally THE OTHER DAY. I bought that candy bar on TUESDAY. I tried to eat it THURSDAY. I never even had a chance!
So basically, I'm making a photo album that I will get NO credit for (somehow, Adam always gets all the glory for all my efforts), I don't get the candy bar I was looking forward to since I got it, and I've been yelled at for being lazy when he has barely done anything to help me around the house. I spend more than 9 hours here by my self, but I don't get a break. I can't say I've had enough and go elsewhere like he gets to when he comes home. He has help around the store (including me!) but doesn't see any reason why he needs to help me out with the stuff around here. He thinks that he can just strip down to his boxers where ever he likes, leave his clothes, and they will magically end up in the hamper to be washed next time I get to do laundry. He doesn't empty his pockets, take his belt out, pull his socks right side out, NONE of it. He eats his dinner and leaves his plate on his side of the couch (where I have to fend off Anthony from getting into it and stabbing himself with a knife or fork or make sure that he doesn't dump a cup of something liquid all over. We made a pact at the beginning of our marriage that I would do the dishes and he would take out the garbage. He hates doing dishes and I'm a perfectionist to how clean they should be. I HATE doing the garbage because its smelly, slimy, and is a constant chore, plus it tends to get heavy and I just can't do it. I have to wait until the garbage is the most rank smell out there and over flowing before he will take out the garbage. But damn if I don't do dishes. Yea, dishes are something you need every day for pretty much every meal, but you need somewhere to put your garbage (especially poopy diapers!!) and having those just sitting around the can is NOT the way to go.
I've just reached a point where I'm not sure why I even try. I do so much, get NO credit (like I said before, Adam gets all the credit, even when people KNOW it wasn't him!), and am expected to sit there and smile while people trample all over me. I bend over backwards to make sure others have what they need and make sure they are taken care of, but it would be REALLY nice to know that I have people out there who would return the favor. Luckily I do have a few friends who do this for me. But it would be nice if the leeches who expect me to do everything I possibly can for them would return the favor from time to time. I know its a lot to ask, but is Thank You REALLY so hard? Really?
This Giving Tree is about to die. Its going to turn into the "OH HELL NO!" tree.
Thank you. People, its really not going to kill you to say it when someone does something for you. It might make them smile. Might even make you feel good that you made them feel good. Hmmm, sounds like a pretty painful death to me.

Now why did I do that to myself?

We often ask ourselves "Why did I do that? That wasn't smart!". Well, I'm having one of those moments.
Yesterday we had our 16 week appointment. All went well (as far as I know) and I think I'm finally gaining weight. Bound to happen when you are stuck in the house all day for days on end because its so cold and you don't have the car with the remote start and all. Stupid Minnesota cold snap. Anyway, dr had a little bit of an issue nailing down a heartbeat we could really stick to (baby was active!), but she did end up finding it for a while. I was kind of hoping she would still have issues so we would get an ultrasound (just to see baby, I'm still team green!) but to no avail. Oh well, that's ok. Then the dr asked if we had done the AFP test last time. Neither one of us could remember and she couldn't find it in the file. We decided what the hell, let's go ahead and get it done, we have the insurance!
BAD IDEA.
We went, had my blood drawn and went about the rest of our day. Nothing out of the norm happened the rest of the day. Wake up today and Anthony is being his super cute self in his crib (he was playing and jabbering to the one corner and then tried to lay down again before jumping up and seeing me, cue the big toothy grin). Went about the morning like normal. Then nap time came and I thought I should lay down for a bit too.
I got a call about noon-ish. Its our nurse calling to say the test came back negative and all is good. I was half out of it so I said "Awesome, thanks!" and went back to sleep. Then the phone rings again about 30 mins later and its the nurse again. "Megan, Dr Susan read the test results wrong. It came back positive. Barely, but still positive." I was able to pull my head out of my hind end enough to ask "Is there anything I should do? What are our next steps?" and I was told that the dr wasn't concerned yet, but if we wanted, we could make an appointment in St Cloud to get an ultrasound done and confirm or debunk the results of the test. I wasn't sure what else to say since I was still out of it, but I let it go at that and decided to call Adam and tell him what I had just been told. Adam was worked up right away. "Why do they even give you the results if its nothing to get worked up about? What now? We are making that other appointment to make sure" and I had to tell him that I always get a call back on all tests they do no matter if it comes back positive or negative. That calmed him a bit but it brought up questions in my mind. I called back the clinic and left a message for the nurse to call me back so I could ask my questions. About 90 long minutes later (and while I'm talking to my mom, trying not to freak out yet), I get a call back. Didn't hang up quick enough and just missed it. Come to find out, it was my dr. The friggin OBGYN was calling me back. URGH! I called back again and told them I was returning a call and got right through. The nurse told me that they sent the info to the clinic in St Cloud and I would be getting a call back to set up an appointment for about 4 weeks from now. The dr wasn't concerned because it was barely positive, but to be safe, she was ordering the next steps for us. Now we have a level 2 ultrasound (more details and high tech to spot any issues, gives PHENOM photos) and the option of genetic testing. Our dr said she would like the ultrasound, but the genetic testing is purely up to us. Feeling a little better and hearing a more exact number of chance (1 in 271 women test positive) made me feel a little better and I now knew what it was testing for and could do my own research so we were more prepared.
Now, I'm sure anyone who hasn't had this test done or has never heard of it is thinking "WTF is an AFP test and why is she freaking out so bad?!?" Well, I'm going to try to break it down as much as I can and as much as I understand in the terms that I understand (pretty bare bones and human english talk), AFP (alphfetoprotein) is like a genetic test. It tests for a few different things and I have a website that explains more if anyone else wants to look it up for themselves. The site is http://pregnancy.about.com/cs/afp/a/afptesting.htm. So, basically it tests for neural tube defects, spina bifida, Downs Syndrome, and a few other serious developmental issues. Pretty much, when the baby has an issue with something (example, Down's has to do with the fetus and yolk sac (the baby's food supply until the placenta is fully functional) being smaller than normal and so the level of the AFP marker is lower in the mother's blood) the AFP marker is secreted into the mother's blood and they have a certain range you have to fit into to be "negative" (which is good). But there are many things that can make a positive a false positive. Gestational age could be off, multiple babies, low birth weight, diabetes, maternal age and weight, and a few other small factors. As for false positives, that is all over the board. I've seen reports of it being 5-8% reporting false positives while others are saying 80+% false positives. Its just a screening after all. Check out the site and you'll see what I mean.
So what does this mean to us? Well, I don't know if our number is high or low (didn't know to ask until hours later), and we know that we are only having one baby, so it still could be something else that is "off". We are going to be making our appointment when the clinic calls us and praying that they find nothing wrong. With Anthony, we always measured 1-2 weeks ahead because his head was big and all. I'm hoping that this is what happened and that all is well. We have decided we won't do any genetic testing and I refuse to do the amnio (ANY risk of losing the baby is too much, in my book. No matter HOW small) and have mutually decided what we will do either way.
God has blessed us with this little soul. I've been blessed to carry it and care for it in its developing stage. If there ends up being something "wrong", we are going to accept it and deal with whatever situation we are dealt. God doesn't make mistakes and He never gives us more than we can handle. We will not abort (no matter what) and will not abandon this child. God meant us to have this child, we'll gladly take it and raise it in the most loving home we can.
Now, don't take that as I'm totally fearless because I'm scared. I'm REALLY scared. Obviously all ANY parent wants is a healthy and happy child. I'm no different. I'm scared of the unknown that lies ahead. I can't talk about it on the phone at all because I break down and can barely control my voice. Even just thinking of it makes me tear up. Why? I fear that I caused it. I didn't drink enough milk, water, and oj. I didn't eat enough when I should have. I drank too much soda, I ate too much food that was less than healthy, the whole nine. I know, every parent blames themselves when it comes to their child, but you have to understand. With Anthony, I ate SUPER healthy almost the whole time, cut soda WAY down, almost no junk food, and took better care of myself. This time around, I have Anthony to worry about so I forget to eat, I do what I can to get through the day, I'm inside all the time because its too cold to go out and there really isn't anywhere we can go and stretch our muscles. I've gained weight a little sooner than last time, but I'll accept that. I'll do anything I can for this blessing. Just understand if I freak out in the next month or so, I'm kinda dealing with a lot and its hard to just swallow it and "let go and let God". I'm a little too much of a control freak for that, but I'm trying. Just pray for us and a false positive.
God, I know that you have already decided everything with this child and our lives, and I am trying to accept that. I just pray that this baby be as healthy as possible and everything go ok. I can't help but pray for a false positive, but will accept whatever outcome you have chosen. Please lead me to a place where I can accept this and hand over control to you. Thank you for the blessing of our children and our family.
In your name, Amen.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.