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Renovations Take Two

This house is old and charming. It is also the place where ugly wood panelling came to die. Literally. To me there is nothing more depressing than dark wood panelling. So rather than remove it ( which I am told is a project and a half) we decided to paint over it. This is our den BEFORE

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And after!

Note how the new wall color completely transforms the room.

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And

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Being in this room makes me feel that I’m surrounded by the ocean and the sense of calm it brings. The gray blue walls and the off white furniture symbolize a simplistic cottage charm.

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Note- lazy but adorable black pug does not come with the house!

My mom was able to pick out the perfect pictures to compliment the ocean/ cottage feeling we are trying to emulate.

Thanks, mom

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This says it all-

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A Labor of Love

It’s been snowing hard here in Maine but I’ve barely noticed. Decorating and re- doing an entire house while pregnant is not exactly as easy as anticipated. Still, it will be well worth it if I can get every room to look as good as the Master bedroom.

Before- I hate this orange- reddish color. Too harsh.

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After- Note the light green color on the walls- Reminiscent of the water which is a few houses down from us. I softened the look with white Furniture. A combination of the affordable Ikea and and some antique pieces including a vintage dresser.

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Our antique store, find!!!

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The lovely art work, all soft colors and delicate, is from my mom.

More before and afters to come!

Five years ago, Mat gave me the best Valentine’s gift I’d ever received.

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I named him Mister Big after the suave Chris Noth character on Sex and the City ( my favorite show.) Little did I know that his name was prophetic as MY mister Big was going to be well, umm, kinda BIG- for a pug!!!

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Mister Big has brought me more joy than most people. While all dogs are special, he has a uniquely loving personality. He is perennially lazy and loves to lounge on the coach sleeping contentedly for hours upon hours.

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More lounging

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Life is simple when you are Mister Big. He loves, lounging, eating, playing with his toys

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And being with his favorite girl, my other pug Miss Emma.

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Miss Emma dominates Mister Big although he outweighs her by almost 20 pounds. He doesn’t understand anything but food, fun and yes of course MORE lounging.

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That is Mister Big lounging on a recent trip to Rockland.

Besides a couch, “my baby B” likes the beach and taking long walls just about anywhere.

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And although dressing up is not his thing, per usual he happily complies.

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He is occasionally naughty like when he climbs on our coffee table after we eat, in search of some ever tempting food crumbs. He then gets stuck and will sit there and cry until someone rescues him.

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Happy Valentine’s Day to all and especially my three favorite Valentine’s

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Boston 3am

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Enough said. Even the busiest rest stop ever- is dead quiet. No one here but us and a few random truckers.

2 Pugs and a Uhaul

So it’s about to snow here for the billionth time this season. The Northeast has suddenly morphed into Alaska and it ain’t fun. What this means for my reality is, as I type this, it is 2 am and me and Mat and two sleepy pugs are barreling down the interstate. Destination- Rocklabd Maine. In the Uhaul cab- a shitload of furniture to decorate our newly purchased vacation rental property.

All I can say is:
What the hell were we thinking?!

And…

I am pregnant, tired and nauseous (once again.) The Uhaul’s jerky motions is doing absolutely nothing for my chronic indigestion. Not to mention my heartburn.

And…. As grateful as I am to have purchased a home in an area which I months prior deemed magical- its interesting how reality always somehow bites you in the ass. In this case, my utophia locale filled with bliss and seashells is now also filled with obligatory grown up responsibility too.

Those responsibilities have something to do with us not sleeping and instead driving in the middle of the night to Maine to avoid the latest storm. Time is of the essence and our place needs to be decorated to be ready for the upcoming summer season.

I am 39 and I hope this is the last time I see one of these things!!!!

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This is a working weekend but I am hoping to catch a few moments of relaxation in our new place.

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One might wonder what this post has to do with pregnancy or my history of loss. The thing is, in a million of years I would never have taken this real estate risk had it not been for the tribulations of the past years. Quite simply, it was love at first sight for me and Rpckland. It’s beautiful waters and peaceful simplicity awakened something in me . Something that had been missing as I experienced loss after loss over the past few years.

What was missing? Peace of mind. Smiling. Pure Joy.

My losses have affected me in numerous ways good and bad but they have certainly made me more willing to risk in the areas of life I now deem
the small stuff. Finances, money, careers? Small potatoes compared to what I’ve been through. So, the most cautious chick in town ( and likely the most boring) has now dared to try something new. An adventure. A purchase that might either bankrupt us or lead us to better things then we ever imagined.

I think I’m due a small bit of magic.

 

I haven’t written in so long. Ironic, seeing as the very purpose of this blog, initially, was to document my journey with pregnancy. That was my intention before loss one, two and three. That was before I lost my innocence, my hope and my ability to believe that things could actually work out.

 

As I type this, I am seventeen weeks one day pregnant with what appears to be a HEALTHY baby girl. Healthy according to the NT scan. Healthy according to the Verifi test. Healthy according to the AFP. Healthy according to the early anatomy scan I had (at almost 16 weeks) which I begged, pleaded and demanded from my high risk OB.

 

Suffice to say, I am likely their least favorite patient.

 

I have not written for numerous reasons. First trimester I was plagued by constant worry not to mention the nausea. Over the first few weeks the nausea has abated but my fears continue. This pregnancy has been mentally exhausting for me and not filled with the stereotypcial bliss one associates with this time in their life. On the contrary, it has been an exercise in trying to control my own mind- my fears, my obsessions, my inability to believe that this time things might just work out for me.

 

In short, had I continued to blog all my postings would literally say the same exact thing-

 

I am scares shitless. Daily.

 

How boring would that be?!

 

There is little escape from this fear. If I could, I would pull a Tom Cruise and buy an ultrasound machine to put in my house so I can see/check on her every day of every week. I would stop driving in fear of a car accident. I would will away the snow to combat my fear that I can fall on the ice. I would immerse myself in a protective bubble and I would wait there for nine long months to ensure that she is born alive and healthy and safe.

 

Since, I can not stop living- all I am left with is my own ever doubting mind. To be fair, I have always been a negative worry wart. As a child my mom re-named me “Little Miss Worry,” after those tiny little books ever so popular in my child-hood. Little Miss Worry the child has now turned into Little Miss Worry the adult. Same girl, different worries.

 

Three losses have done nothing but solidified me as a pessimist. I have learned that sometimes the worst does in fact happen and you are powerless to control it. Hard to accept- especially for a control freak like myself. So when I am powerless to CONTROL ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING what do I do? I worry.

 

According to my therapist, worry is my drug.

 

I have aged ten years in the last three as I have tried to have a family. I am hoping and praying that this is it for me. I am afraid to want it to much. I am afraid to be devastated yet again.

 

For now, I am taking it day by day and wishing there was a fast forward button in life so I can safely advance time to July, 2014.

So on Sunday, I had the shock of my life. Truth be told, I have been moody most of this last month. Not normal moody. I mean super human, “I will snap your head off and eat it for dessert,” moody.  My husband remarked that my poor TUDE was reminiscent of pregnancy number one but I immediately dismissed him. There was no way after over a year of BFN’s that suddenly, without the help of super drug FOLLITISM, that I was naturally pregnant at the ripe old age of 38 (soon to be 39, next month).

 

Right?

 

Wrong, again.

 

So As I saw that faint, but decidedly there, second line I did what every normal blissfully IM PREGNANT woman does. I burst into tears.

 

“NOT AGAIN,” I said to my husband.

 

Sigh. Welcome to pregnancy, take four.

 

I am trying, to think this this could be the one. After all, isn’t the fourth time the proverbial charm. I am trying not to stress. That said, in the last week I have:

Checked my underwear 1000000000000 times for blood.

Checked it after my stressful morning commute, and whenever someone at work pissed me off.

Goggled my symptoms.

Goggled my HCG levels

Cried when I thought, for a half of a second, this could work!

Cried when I thought, for more hours that I count, that it likely would not

Obsessed over whether or not, my factor Five warrants me taking an injectable blood thinner when the doctors seem divided on the issue.

Wondered if it was ok to continue jogging?

Continuing walking?

Continue- LIVING.

Sigh. This is not easy. I am trying to take it day by day but the days are long and I am fighting against my over-active, over-negative mind.

 

How does one maintain positivity in the face of so much disappointment? Hell, if I know.

 

As I sit here typing this, I have checked the clock, about a zillion times, wondering what is taking my RE so damn long to give me my HCG numbers. My HCG from Tuesday at 11am was 511. I went in this morning at 7:30 to see if they increased, doubled, etc.

 

The waiting is torture.

 

UPDATE: After a near hysterical turn, on Friday, I received the news that my BETA HCG did double (1117) yet my Progesterone went from a 17 to 14. I am already on Crinone and so my doctor prescribed a double dosage. I am very anxious about the status of this pregnancy seeing as I already have had three losses and I am obviously having a progesterone issue.

 

I do not feel hugely pregnant. I have sporadic boob soreness, on and off fatigue but nothing game changing. Those factors make me doubt that there will be a positive outcome in my future. I am trying not to obsess but all I did the entire weekend was worry. I don’t know why. There is nothing I can do to change this or to ensure I will have success. Still, I worried and obsessed and felt depressed thinking that I will likely face another negative outcome. I don’t know when I have become such a pessimist.

Tomorrow I get the results of my third BETA. This is huge. This is where, in pregnancy number three, things shit the proverbial bed. I went from HCG 160 to 15.

I am hoping that this time will be different.

 

 

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