Don't Call It A Comeback

As the great poet L.L. Cool J once said-- "Don't call it a comeback. I've been here before."
Perhaps you thought I fell off the face of the earth entirely.

Not true. I'm still here. Teaching seventh graders. Grading papers. Snuggling on my boy. Doing the Hot Dog dance. You know, the usual.
But, over the last year, I learned being a working mama is H-A-R-D! I wouldn't trade either of my jobs, but doing them both at a level approaching passable is a tough gig. So, the blog went to the wayside in lieu of things like designing lessons and doing laundry.
But, I have always regarded this blog as my original catharsis, where I put my feelings into print when I'm most nervous. So, I guess it's time to come back home, so to speak.
J and I just had our "consultation" with Dr. D once again. 
That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Negotiations for baby #2 have commenced.
Let me stop you right there and wave off all those folks who said having a baby c…

Rocking My Baby

Tonight, my son pushed my hand away.

No big deal, right?

I was rocking him, giving him a bottle after a late-night sheet changing, clothes changing incident. We were snuggling under the fuzzy blanket and I was singing (horribly) as he cooed along. I was soothing my little one like I've done for the last seven plus months.

Then he pushed my hand away and repositioned his little fingers on the bottle, deftly keeping it in his mouth, right where he wanted it.

It's a natural progression, right?

I should be proud he is showing increased manual dexterity and progressing with his motor skills, right?

But... but... my baby pushed my hand away.

My perfect little boy will be eight months old on Saturday. I still haven't wrapped my mind around that-- not really.  He's so big and so tiny, all at the same time.

We've been sleep training and working on sleeping in his crib instead of the bassinet which once rested beside my side of the bed. For the first week of this transition,…

Please don't tell me to relax

I haven't written since Evan was born. I know... I know. But, life has been busy.

He's seven months old now.

Seven. Months. Old.

That just seems crazy.

Earlier this summer, I participated in a Writing Workshop for teachers where we not only talked about teaching writing, but also engaged in writing to help us view ourselves as writers.

Getting back to writing was magical.

So, here is one of the pieces I pounded out in a 15 minute quick write. I think I will be doing a little more of that as I have the time.

I realized having Evan didn't heal the wounds of infertility. Yes, he is remarkable and so much more amazing than I could have imagined. But, infertility changed me, fundamentally, and the scars are still there.

So, my writing workshop peers encouraged me to publish this and "put it into the world."

Here you go, folks.

Please don’t tell me to relax I used to cry in Target.
I used to avoid baby showers.
Just relax and it will happen.
Making the baby is all the fun.

Father to Son

Today is my due date. For many women, today is the day when all the anxiety really kicks in because you know you will meet your child soon. For me, today we are celebrating two weeks with my baby boy. I haven't written about it, though I promise the story of his arrival from my point of view will come soon. However, as I was cleaning out all of the solicitations in my email box, I found an email from the night my son was born, from my husband to me.

Jeremy has never mentioned this email, not once in the two weeks since Evan's birth. In my post-birth haze, I never realized it was there. However, after finding it today, I have to share it with all of you. These are the heartfelt words of my husband on the day he first met his son. As you can imagine, I was a tearful mess after reading this.

It’s hard to describe exactly what I’m feeling.  If you know me, you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m outwardly just generally happy at becoming a father and love the fact that Evan constantly s…

Too much time on my hands....

So, it's been a very long time since I posted.

Much has happened, but I've had a difficult time deciding what I should and should not share. Infertility makes me cautious like that.

However, over the last few weeks, I've gone through some things worth mentioning. It began to feel disingenuous NOT to talk about everything that is going on, being that I have been so open about my struggles with infertility. I don't think everyone on the Internet needs to know about my every waking moment, but I'm pretty sure some folks might like to know the broad strokes.

So, here goes.

The last month has been a whirlwind.

Early this year, I was interviewed by a writer from Redbook magazine about the financial aspect of infertility. I figured I might warrant a line in the article, but earlier this month, I learned I was the lead in the article. So, around the middle of the month, when the November edition of Redbook magazine hit newsstands, I got to see my interview in writing. It w…

The Small Moments

During the days when I was struggling to conceive, the words flowed easily because I knew others were feeling as I was and that all too often, their voices were silent. I shared my story because I knew it was like that of others and I didn't want anyone to feel alone.

Today, I enter my 25th week of pregnancy. I am on the downhill side of the second trimester and the reality that a little boy will be coming home with me in the not-too-distant future is becoming less difficult to grasp. I realize I have written remarkably little about my pregnancy. It's not because I haven't been amazed and delighted by the things that have happened, but it is because I don't want to become the cliche.

In my last post, I acknowledged that I was having some issues with protein in my urine. To date, I have not been diagnosed with any pregnancy complications. My doctor is still incredibly vigilant, which makes it easier for me to sleep at night. I am grateful for his diligence, as always. I…

The Notorious J-U-G

There are many things I never thought I would experience in my life.

For a long time, pregnancy was one of them.

Then, one of the treatments worked and this infertile gal got pregnant, with the help of a small army. As a pregnant girl, I had no idea how to write for my audience. I had loads to say when infertility was torturing me. But, there are SO MANY mommy bloggers. I have so many friends who are still fighting in the infertility trenches. How do I write authentically but with regard for their struggles?

Well... as I wrestled with these notions, life plopped a big old dose of inspiration in front of me... in the form of a rather large orange jug.

I haven't written about the ins and outs of pregnancy because every pregnant person has them. I've been tired. My belly itches. I deal with nausea and the like.

But, whatever. All the pregnant ladies are doing it.

However, a few weeks ago, I went into one of my prenatal appointments with Dr. S. Typically, these are short, we liste…