When I started this blog, I was three years younger and a whole lot more naive to the realities of pregnancy. At the time, it was my intention to document my experience with pregnancy. Me- the perennial late bloomer! I had no way of foreseeing the very hard road which lie ahead for me. Had I had even an inkling it’s quite possible I would have ran like hell in the opposite direction, screaming, accepting a child free life.

As I type this I am a day short of 39 weeks pregnant. It is surreal. It is very much a pregnancy after three losses with all the associated mental tortures that comes with that reality. It is also, in the eyes of the doctors, a high risk pregnancy.

When I first entered my practice, I was considered one of the easier cases. My previous losses were labelled flukes and likely attributed to bad luck or old eggs. My only high risk issue was my pre-pregnancy hypertension and my Factor Five Leiden, a genetic inherited blood clotting disorder which means your blood is more likely to clot.

During this pregnancy I developed gestational diabetes. So now here I am a woman of 39 with three losses and a laundry list of issues.

I was over weight ( due to the emotional eating I did post loss one, two and three )

I was on blood pressure meds

I developed gestational diabetes

I have factor Five

I am OLD or as they like to say “advanced maternal age.”

I felt like I was one day away from geriatric and admittance to a nursing home was imminent. I also, most every day have felt scared shitless.

I see a high risk OB at a large but decidedly capable practice where they are medically knowledgable but emotionally deadened. During my 23rd week of pregnancy as I saw another random doctor I was taken aback when in the span of two minutes he diagnosed me as having PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. My penchant for questions and holding the nurses and doctors to task apparently rubbed many the wrong way and this was his way of getting across a message- stop driving our staff crazy with your obsessive worries.

As if.

As I sat there and asked him my ten written questions spanning the topics of incompetent cervix, baby movement and pre- term labor and whatever else I was obsessed with that week he looked at me with impatience in his eyes. He then went there. There, a place where few tend to go- the land of brutal honesty one might call it.

He started off asking me if I trusted him. For some reason I lied and said yes. Trust?! How the hell do you trust a doctor you had known for a total of five minutes’? He then said he knew many women like me. Women who have had losses, women who have seen the scariest parts of pregnancy and carry their scars like wounded war veterans seemingly normal on the outside dying on the inside- forever changed by where they have been. Instinctually I wanted to laugh in his face, dismiss him, tell him where to go. I did none of that because To my absolute horror he must have hit am emotional chord because I started crying big, fat ugly tears. I hate public crying and I especially hated exposing myself to this sarcastic un- feeling doctor. How dare he think he knew me? He knew nothing about me or what I carry. To say I was/am defensive perhaps is the understatement of the year.

All the loss of the past three years came rushing in and I was left sitting there feeling completely exposed. A feeling I hate. As my husband looked on sad and helpless I couldn’t hold back the emotion and I just sat there like a little girl unable to control her sadness. Shedding tears for all that I had lost, shedding tears because I knew I would never again be the same Susan before my losses, crying because despite being 23 weeks pregnant I felt little joy only worry that something again would happen to pregnancy number four.

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


And after!

Note how the new wall color completely transforms the room.




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.


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


This says it all-


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.


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.


Our antique store, find!!!




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.


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!!!


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.


More lounging

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


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


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.

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.


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


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.

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


Boston 3am



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?!


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!!!!


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


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.


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