Rainbow, Take 2

Here we go again. 
When I first started this blog I was 36, clueless and pregnant. I had no idea, then, that my road to a healthy take home child would be filled with such heartache and complications.

That said, there are no words to explain how very thrilled I am that my cherished daughter is going to be a big sister. I never thought it could or would happen and yet here I am, again. 42 and cautious yet optimistic. Hopeful yet scared. Eastic and in disbelief and just plain thrilled. 


Hug Me

No- not really.

But those same words adorn a pair of my daughters footed pajamas. They are size three to six months and I can recall putting them on her for the first time and they would bag because she was so small. Now she fills them out completely and we are days away from her outgrowing them completely. They are amongst my favorites not because they look particularly fancy or because they are  super easy to get on and off (which they actually are) but more because of what they represent

you see they were amongst the first items of clothes I purchased for her when she was still growing inside of me

For me, that was a huge and scary gigantic leap of faith

For thirty nine weeks as I grew her inside of me, I was unable to separate the terrors of my last pregnancies from the reality of my present pregnancy with her.

I worried

I googled

I thought at any time she would die inside of me.

Anytime any milestone passed, I was unable to appreciate it for long. I was still waiting for the proverbial dark cloud to rain on me,  hard, again making a fool of me and my silent pressing hope that somehow this time would be different.

Mainly I hid and worried. Boy did I worry. I didn’t have a day of peace. I was pregnant in body only- my mind was always mentally preparing myself for another loss. As if preparation would ever make the devastation easier.

Then one day I was out of work early and I ventured over to chipotle for a chicken burrito lunch. There in immediate proximity was the flashing blue sign of BABY GAP. The first time I had gone there was to purchase a gift for my newborn niece and I loved many of the adorable dresses they sold. So I went in and browsed. I became increasingly anxious and could feel the sweat gathering all over my body and my pulse quicken. Anxiety, my ever present nemesis. I  felt as if I couldn’t breathe and immediately walked outside to breathe in the cold, March air.

Epic fail. But I would not be deterred. Determination and collasol stubbornness is what made me try again to have a baby after three previous losses.

So I tried again next week and the week after. Slowly but surely and certainly at a snails pace, I purchased those pajamas, and the white dress that was way too big, but that I made her wear leaving the hospital. And the blue sundress. I took pictures of these new clothes. I texted them to my mother and my aunt. I let them be excited for me at a time when I couldn’t allow myself to feel the excitement without also feeling the fear. In those days, I would let those new pretty clothes and the reactions of others- carry me towards bliss if even for an hour or two.

baby steps you would call it

Now when I see her, my lovely girl, in those pajamas the emotion is so real. I can’t believe she is here wearing those pajamas that I picked out for her when I was still so afraid. I can’t believe I am so lucky that this rosy cheeked bright eyed princess is mine.


Today I am thankful

This was written the night before Thanksgiving 2014-

Today I am thankful
That after three years and a lot of heartache- my girl is here with me.

That after a pregnancy filled with fear and anxiety and a birth that was all that and more- she came out healthy and happy.

As I type this, she is sitting in her bouncer
chair screaming and screeching away- yes she has found her voice- again. I say again because she is ever changing and every day she brings a new talent to the table. Screeching was first on the table a month ago soon replaced by hand sucking, feet obsession and now once again- screeching!!!

I have a lot of great things in my life. An amazing husband, great parents, two cute dogs and a vacation home that has brought me a lot of peace. That said, Arabella Juliet is my biggest blessing this holiday season.

For 39 years she wasn’t in my life and sometimes I look at her and wonder how I got by without her.

She is a true blessing in every sense of the word.

I’m thankful for her screeching screams in her attempt to talk to me

The way she throws a fit when her bottle is done- my girl is not afraid to speak her mind! I would have it no other way!

The way she farts when she eats reminds me of her daddy! ( couldn’t resist that one!)

The way I say “rock it” and she flails her arms and legs accordingly!

The way she holds my hand when I feed her.

And laughs loudly when I call her feet “her stinkers!”

The way I’m positioning her for a picture and she flops over to her side just in the moment that I’m snapping away!

The way she wakes up, most days and smiles and laughs when I kiss her good morning.

The way she will tolerate me dressing her until a headband or a coat is put on- then total meltdown.

The way last night me and Mat were kissing her cheeks and her stinkers and she got so excited she just laughed and laughed. We both looked at each other in awe. Her laughter is literally like the finest song ever sung. It warms my heart like nothing else. Corny, but oh so true.

What a miracle she is. I still can’t believe she is here and she is mine.

So today I am thankful. For this very first thanksgiving with her. There were years of loss and sadness and those days will never leave me- they are always there too. Now there is blessings and first everything’s and the joy of seeing life through her perfect brown eyes.

My daughter has already taught me so much in her four months, two weeks on this planet. Before her, I lived in a ME ME ME world. Now my days and nights are spent caring for her. Cleaning her. Dressing her. Doing whatever is in my power to make her happy.

Motherhood- it’s a game changer.

Life before her was perpetual rush. I didn’t have time to see the stars much less appreciate them. I was going, doing working, spinning on this perpetual life roller coaster.

When A was barely a month old I read about this cool baby gadget that lights up a room with the stars and the moon in varying colors. I purchased it and that first night I lay there in amazement of how darn cool this toy was. Despite my enthusiasm, Arabella was not impressed. She was lying there in her sleeper more interested in brown, bland teddy then how the ceiling was lit up in all the colors of the rainbow.

Fast forward and my tiny girl is growing by the minute. Blink and I may miss it. I have to soak her in daily because tomorrow or the day after will bring more changes. Subtle changes, yes, but I don’t want to miss a thing.

So tonight I got out our old friend the ladybug who brings the constellations to our bedroom. This time a more alert and interested Arabella laid there with me and soaked it in. She kicked her legs enthusiastically and watched in amazement as the stars changed colors before her four month year old eyes. She was in awe. I lie there too and took it all in, as well. The moon and the stars- sure but my main focus was and is- this tiny little miracle who has changed my life forever.

My girl is ever changing. The moon and the stars? Well they are great but they have nothing on her.

To Arabella, Love Mom

I’ve waited a long time to write those words. Mom. It’s still so surreal. As I type this, my perfect princess is swinging in her butterfly swing. Porcelain skin, the complexion of a doll the look of an angel, blissful slumber. She smiles in her sleep- she is my most perfect dream realized.

I made it. I can’t believe I’m on the other side.

I still look at her and can’t truly believe my good fortune. After nine months of mental torture she is here and she is mine. How did I get so lucky? Even when she cries I am reminded of how lucky I am to hear those cries. I am reminded daily of the other road a road which I travelled on for three, long years and how fortunate I am at almost 40 to have this beautiful little girl here with me.

She is my miracle and I still can’t believe it.

During my pregnancy with her I worried every day. There was not a moments peace. I worried that she would die, that something bad would happen that I would face another loss. I was unable to enjoy a minute of my pregnancy because I was so scared. Petrified daily.

I am so lucky that this little girl is mine.

There were days many days that everyone around me wanted me to give up. Three years and three losses takes a considerable toll. “Go adopt”, said my well meaning mother. “Move on,” said others. I persevered because I am stubborn and I was determined to prove everyone else wrong. Thank god I didn’t give up or else I wouldn’t have this perfect angel here with me.

To my daughter, I say thank you. Thank you for making me your mom. Thank you for your Laughs, Your cries and all that is you. Since having you, my entire world has changed and I love every moment of it. I am so blessed to be home with you daily and watch you grow up. You are so blessed to have the best daddy in the world and two grandparents who delight in you daily. You have made us all so very happy. You are so loved.

My dear friend Carolyn once said that Arabella was waiting in the clouds floating around in the heavens just waiting for the right time to make her appearance into my life. I love that. I still look at this little girl and can’t believe she is mine. Mat and I both can’t believe she is here. After so much heartache and struggle this tiny perfect blessing is here.

How did I get so lucky?

Thank you my sweet girl for making me your mom. I’ll do everything in the world to protect you and make you happy. You are my everything.


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.