Crying...It's not Just for Babies

Well, here I am with everything I have ever wanted! I am so blessed. God has given me the answer to my prayers. I am quite possibly the luckiest girl in the world. So why am I about to lose my mind...

(Here is the part where you start judging me...but at least you know I'm honest.)

I am so glad that God heard my prayers and gave me this blessing! I guess I just forgot about all of the trials that come along with bringing a new baby into this world.

In my mind things were going to go much smoother than they have so far. I was supposed to come home from the hospital, put my baby on my breast and nurse him until he gave a beautiful satisfactory burp, then cuddle him for hours each day until he was blissfully exhausted and fell fast asleep in his bassinet. I pictured my whole family laying in my bed every evening all cooing and laughing together while Liam stares at us with smiling amazement. I also pictured myself shrinking to a size six...needless to say none of this has happened.

Instead, we spend much of our day trying to figure out why the baby is crying, trying to make him stop crying, and then trying to get him to go to sleep if nothing else works. At virtually every moment of the day someone in this house is crying - a lot of times that someone is me.

It never occurred to me that I may have a 'cryer'. Or worse, a colicky baby. We have not gone as far as to diagnose him with colic yet - but we are heading down that path.

It seems that this child has not yet made peace with his new world. If he is not eating or sleeping he is usually crying. I, as his mother, should be able to make him stop...right? I should be able to provide him with the comfort that he needs to feel secure in this world...right? Well, it hasn't happened yet. Even when I hold him he is often kicking and screaming as if to say "you are the worst mother ever!" I know that this is not the case, but at times it sure seems that way. I think the only thing that could make this child happy would be shoving him back up into my uterus for a few more months (man, I wish I was a kangaroo!).  Obviously, that can't happen...so we try everything else.

Here is the thing, I don't care if he cries. I mean I care, but I know babies cry. It does not bother me if he needs to blow off steam. But his crying "episodes" are more like fits of screaming rage. He seems so angry - yet he's so tiny...what could he possibly be so pissed about? It just breaks my heart to see him so unhappy and to know that I can't fix it.

We have tried all of the 'colic cures' out there...and I'm not saying that they won't work. I am still hoping that we will have a breakthrough soon! I am also praying and believing (I have had success with that so far!) that God will bring my sweet boy happiness and contentment. But, until then I am just trying not to lose my mind...and crying on occasion.

He might be a cryer...but he's a cute cryer!!

The Secret Life of the Infertile

As I type this I am internally contemplating whether or not I should...and the winner is...I should, well, maybe not should but will!

This is a blog about infertility and why it sucks! If you are reading this I am assuming that you too have dealt with the subject or perhaps are just really really bored! So get ready...this is my story, the good, the bad, and the really-really gross!!

In the Beginning
Six years ago (almost seven really) I became a mother. No drugs, no tricks (well, that depends on what one classifies as "tricks"), no blogs...just good old fashioned conception. Viola! There he was, after 21 hours of labor and a last minute C-section...that is. Not really the heavenly lights shining down upon me and the Angels singing kind of experience I had expected, but I was a mother nonetheless. Fifteen months after giving birth I found myself unexpectedly "knocked up" again. After the initial shock dissipated, we were really happy. Being that there is a five year age difference between my siblings and I, I was excited to have children close together. Happiness eventually turned to horror when I lost the pregnancy. I cried, I grieved, I ate a lot of Cheetos, but eventually I healed and moved on with my life. Almost two years later, after only a few months of trying I saw those glorious double lines once again! Oh, but the happiness did not last long I miscarried at 10 weeks, and again with the Cheetos...wha-wha-whaaaaaaaaa! This time I was severely pissed. I was angry at everyone, my doctor, my husband, my job, the mail man. I expected the whole town to shut down and grieve for my loss, even though very few people even knew I was pregnant. I still thought I deserved some kind of memorial for having to go through such suckish circumstances. This one took a little longer to get over, especially when people heard about what happened. You see, I live in a really small town. (No, really a very small town) Word travels fast around here, and for the most part people where very kind and sympathetic to my situation...for the MOST PART. However, there are those few people who should not be gifted with the ability to speak who had the audacity to say to me "do they know what is wrong with you?" WHAT? Are you kidding me?? Since then I have come to realize that when you have 1 miscarriage people feel sorry for you and try to make you feel better, but when you have more than 1 you are instantly a member of this "they have problems" club. It's like you have a disease and people what to know what it is and how they can keep from getting it. I had friends who didn't want to talk about the subject of pregnancy around me because they thought I would jinx them or something. It is not contagious people...at least not from one person to another.

The Fertility Train
So here I am 3 years later...still not pregnant, but no more miscarriages so that's a plus!?! I am so blessed to have one son, he is wonderful and perfect, and I know this!! But, I deeply desire (with every fiber of my being) more children. I originally wanted 4, I'm Italian so it's kind of my job to have a big family. We have been trying to conceive (ttc in message board lingo) for 3 years...with no luck obviously. Last September AF came to visit as she does every month, however she apparently had decided that a "visit" just wasn't long enough so she moved herself on in...and stayed for 40 days!!!!! Yes, 40 days!!! A whole new kind of flood! (you see, this is the really-really gross part). I ended up having to go on medication to get her to go on her merry way and then began seeing a specialist, a "reproductive endocrinologist" to be exact. So, I guess that nosey old lady was right, there really was something wrong with me.

After lots of tests, and surgery I found out that I have Poly cystic Ovary Syndrome(PCOS), or just "jacked up ovaries" as I like to call them. I am only 31, what the heck?? I should not have fertility issues!!! My husband, who is 10 years older than me, passed his test (and you know what kind of test I am talking about) with flying colors! In fact, when the doctor gave us his results he mentioned that my husband may even want to put them on the refrigerator for display. I believe, "you could give some 20 year olds a run for their money," were his exact words.

So here I am, on my 3rd round of Fertility drugs, blogging about it, and on a special low carb diet - Awesome!

(Warning if I run into you and you have a sandwich there is a strong possibility that one of us will not walk away from the situation, there is an even stronger possibility that that person will not be me...I'm frustrated, on hormones, and hungry...watch the eff out America!)