A week ago I took a positive pregnancy.  Yesterday I learned my levels weren’t going up as they should and to expect to miscarry within the next few days.

So now I wait.

My OB was really kind about the whole thing. She called me personally and told me what to expect - a heavy period. But my mind was screaming the whole time “IT’S NOT A PERIOD. IT’S A BABY.” In my mind it was already a baby. A baby to be born early May. Maybe the boy Matt so desperately wants. Wearing blue and toddling around.

But it’s not to be. My mind knows this is the right thing. Something was obviously wrong. Miscarriages happen for a reason.  I obviously can carry a baby to full term. It’s just one of those things that happen. A lot. In normal circumstances, if we hadn’t of been trying, I may not even had known I was pregnant.  But my heart hurts. Somehow those messages haven’t made it to my heart.

I knew the whole time something wasn’t right.  Lexie was not a planned baby - she was a surprise and after that first night of “holy shit, what have we done?” we got excited. I was so excited to be pregnant with Lexie. Even through the awful morning sickness, I would caress my belly, feeling good things happening down there. The typical pregnancy symptoms happened - I literally watched my boobs grow to ridiculous sizes.  This time it wasn’t the case. Both Matt and I felt disconnected to this pregnancy. I felt things happening but it just didn’t feel right. I never got the morning sickness I was expecting and my feelings were confirmed from the first call from the doctor. My blood work showed low levels, especially my progesterone. I was put on progesterone supplements, which worried me but not a lot. The same thing happened during my pregnancy with Lexie. But, the doctor’s office wanted me back in 4 days later to get more blood work done. Then the levels looked better but they wanted me back in Thursday for more blood work and that’s when the levels showed little improvement. That signifies something isn’t right.

Dr. James took me off of the progesterone  and I feel as though I’ve pulled the plug on a loved one. The back of my mind keeps thinking “But, what if?” and what if this little baby could survive and by stopping the progesterone, I’m stopping the only chance it has.

I feel very guilty.

I’ve always been prochoice. Sometimes people get this messed up with pro-abortion. I’ve never met anyone who is pro-abortion. I just don’t think anyone should be able to tell anyone else what they can or can’t do with their bodies, especially in extreme cases like incestual rape.  But, abortion has never really felt like a choice to me, not that I’ve ever faced that decision.   Even though I’ve only been pregnant 5 weeks, this mass of cells in my body is a baby in my mind.  By stopping the progesterone, I wonder if I’m committing an abortion on myself.

I’m scared. I’ve heard of heavy cramping that can result in prescriptions for pain medicine. Heavy bleeding. And what if not all of it comes out? What if I have to get a d & c? That’s really scary. What if the mass of cells start multiplying and turn into cancer? (Don’t scoff - it almost happened to my cousin. Luckily they caught it in time.)  It’s just the unknown. And I have to wait. It’s not as though I saw blood and knew. I know before the blood has even started. It’s this sick waiting game.

So I’m looking for a silver lining. Surely there’s one, right? Well, now I can drink at the Domain reunion. Oh joy. I think I’d rather have a baby in 9 months.

So I guess the silver lining is that I have wonderful friends. Wonderful caring friends that haven’t hesitated to call or offer babysitting services. But, I want Lexie near me. I need Lexie near me. I laid down with her for nap yesterday, after getting the news, and just started crying and Lexie reached over, wrapped her little arm around me, and patted my back.  I am so lucky.

I  think the worst part is that I feel as though I have failed. Maybe I’ll get pregnant again really soon and things will work out. My mom had a miscarriage before she got pregnant with me and that worked out well, right? *small grin*

I know deep down things happen for a reason. When I got pregnant with Lexie, it was not when we “planned” but it was the perfect time and we got the perfect baby.  This little baby just wasn’t ready to come yet. I really believe that God knows the right time. Maybe this miscarriage is just an opportunity to appreciate what I have, instead of focusing on what I don’t have.  And when the time is right, I will get pregnant again, and the perfect baby will come along and our family will be complete.  This little baby just gets to go back and wait for the right time.

I’m just trying so hard to be positive.  I think of the poor parents who have a healthy baby and then lose it, at 1 day, 1 year, 18 years, whatever.  I’m lucky that this happened so early and not later on. I really am.

My heart is sad and heavy. But that’s okay. I will grieve for the pregnancy that wasn’t.  And then, later on, I will be happy in the pregnancy that is.

Okay so we all know my precious, precocious, lovable child throws a few major minor, very big deal no big deal tantrums, right? She has her mother’s temper. Well, unfortunately, some poor teacher is going to have to deal with them now.

I’ve enrolled Lexie in  a Parent’s Day Out program.  She starts next Friday.

It’s the type of place I really wanted Lexie in - every early childhood theory and practice I learned in 4 1/2 years at UK, they practice. I like that.

So want to know my biggest fear? I will have “that child” in the classroom that is disruptive, can’t play socially, and gets that roll-their-eyes response from the teachers and parents. How sad is that? I already am projecting my insecurities onto my child.

I wish I could just relax and let her be who she is. I know she won’t be the craziest child they’ve ever met - she’s not even close to the craziest child I’ve ever met. Why do I want the child that blends into the background? Why can’t I support her and admire her spunkiness?

Why? Why? Why?

So, I have a cousin who is Super Mom. You know the type - has 5 children under the age of 12, they don’t watch TV, they eat organically, they take 10 hour car rides and are content to play with a small ring the entire time, they are flexible, they go to bed when they’re supposed to, they aren’t picky eaters, etc, etc. It’s a little bit intimidating, to say the least.

And, I have a nephew who is almost 12 and eats nothing but junk, doesn’t have a bed time, has a TV, computer, multiple gaming systems, a Razr cell phone - all in his room.

So, when I was pregnant Matt and I decided there has to be some middle ground. Surely you can have a child who gets to experience Saturday morning cartoons with Poptarts but yet doesn’t sit in front of the TV all day long and eat Oreos.

Oh, did we ever set ourselves up for it. We ended up with a junk-addicted, tantrum-throwing, TV junkie. And, the you-know-what has hit the fan.

We went on vacation with Super Mom and 4 of her kids (one was at a 2 week camp that is an all encompassing education, naturally) in North Carolina on Lake Toxaway. My cousin was very very generous to invite us down to visit. I knew the weekend was off to a rocky start when Lexie woke up with a fever of 101 the day we were to leave. Not to be deterred (and channeling Super Mom, who never lets anything stop her family) we went on and got on the road. Poor Lexie slept most of the way down, only stopping to throw up french fries. Lovely.

So we had a great excuse for her absolute shitty behavior when we got there - she had a virus. Honestly, Lexie didn’t do much but lay in bed, burning hot, and watch TV.

But, when the fever broke….oh hell, it was ON. Lexie became Evil Child - refusing any food except chips and Oreos (I thought Super Mom was going to faint at this point.) and insisting on watching approximately 23 1/2 hours of television/movies. And, she just threw one tantrum after another.

And, of course, I forgot the sippy cup that Lexie uses to drink milk. (Side note - it took us waaay too long to get Lexie to even accept milk so really, I don’t care how she takes it - I’m thrilled that she does.) Lexie proceeded to ask for milk, refuse when she didn’t see her sippy cup, and CRY. I got a lecture from Super Mom about how she never gets her kids attached to anything, including stuffed animals, blankets, and certain sippy cups because if you forget them, see what happens?!?!  Seriously, highlight of the trip? Not so much.

Right, so mortified at my child and astounded by the Super Kids and their easy going nature, Matt and I made resolutions on the way home. 1 - Cut back on the sugar! 2 - Eat healthier! 3 - Insist on Lexie expanding her dietary choices! 4- Get rid of the milk sippy cup! 5- Cut back TV! 6 - Get Lexie to accept milk at meals! Oh yes, we were on our way to becoming Super Parents.

So, we did do some of those things and guess what - the tantrums have almost gone away with the sugar being cut out. It’s seriously amazing. One day Lexie got some Oreos so she would sit through a haircut and Demon Child returned. I cut out the sugary cereal bars, the cookies, the snacks, etc. And, she was pissed. But, she’s gotten over it.

We also cut back on TV. Now, I have to admit I am lax about this - sometimes TV is the only way I get a moment to myself or manage to get anything done. But, once the TV was turned off, Lexie started to play! She actually started getting toys out and playing.

Seriously, my sweet child has returned.
I never thought I would be “that mom” but I fear I have somewhat.

Don’t worry - we still love our chips and hamburgers, and Lexie still gets her sippy cup of milk. I figure the benefit of the calcium outweighs the sippy cup. Plus, I doubt she’ll be going to high school still drinking out of this sippy cup. If she does, we have bigger fish to fry.

So even though I join the circle of “those moms,” albeit on the outskirts of the circle, I promise to never lecture any mom about their choices because really, it’s none of my business.

So this is a belated post, kind of.  Lexie turned two July 28th. As cliched as it sounds, I cannot believe my baby turned 2. I swear I can still feel the weight of her being placed in my arms for the first time.  So, we’re taking a trip down memory lane…

Here’s the day Alexis Leigh Elliott was born and that very moment I was just talking about - she was placed in my arms.

  Lexie turns 1! I spent a small fortune on an outfit for Lexie that commemorated such an important event.

Mommy tried to take professional pictures…

Lexie had her first kiss, with Nate…

Lexie (and Mommy) made lots of friends.

And, finally, Lexie turned 2.

And, Mommy’s attempt at professional photography…

It’s been an exhausting, exhilarating, constantly changing 2 years…..and I wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

So I am an avid reader. I read just about anything I can get my hands on (minus textbooks - boooring!).  And, I have a particular fondness for romance novels. Not the Harlequin romance novels, which are basically porn. No, the common “girl meets boy, they fall in love, something bad happens, boy makes grand romantic gesture to win girl back, girl swoons, and they live happy ever after.”

So, I’m waiting for my grand romantic gesture.

I thought my marriage proposal would be grand and romantic and it probably was. However, considering Matt really proposed (minus the ring) one night after I had a lot to drink, I can’t really remember that proposal. I’m sure it was lovely, though. The ring proposal was okay. Not super romantic, unless you count me lying on a hotel bed, exhausted from hoofing it around Manhattan, watching some comedy thing on TV, and Matt bending on one knee, with a ring we had received from his mother earlier that day and asking, “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” (It still makes me giggle every time I think about it.) as romantic.  Not exactly a Rhett and Scarlet moment.

I thought that the day I gave birth would have some romantic gesture attached. Matt would look over at me with a tear in his eye after I pushed out his daughter (will full makeup and not breaking a sweat) and say something extremely touching. Not exactly. After pushing for 2 hours and the pain associated with something the size of a watermelon coming out something the size of a lemon (quote reference to “Look Who’s Talking, thankyouverymuch), I had a romantic moment with the cause of said pain - Lexie and an even more romantic thoughts with the Percocet I was given afterwards - lets be honest, the Percocet wins the award that night.

So I’m still waiting. And as I read another romance novel with the hero finding out his girlfriend is pregnant at 20, and rushing out to get his grandmother’s ring out of the safety deposit box, rushing back in at dinner (that included both families) and dropping to his knee to give a huge speech that made the heroine swoon….I realized how completely stupid romance novels are. I mean, seriously. If that scenario happened, the hero and heroine would have at least a week of nervousness and anxiety and the families wouldn’t beam their congratulations - they’d be pissed!

So I started thinking about how maybe the grand romantic gesture I’m waiting for is just not practical. Matt isn’t what I would consider to be a Rhett Butler (sorry Matt) but he does so many small things that show me love. Small things that no one else would think about. Maybe instead of big things, it’s really the little things.

It’s the times he lets me sleep in on the weekends because I ask him to.

It’s like tonight, when he walked in to me, frazzled, and Lexie in time out because she spilt milk everywhere  and hit me, dinner halfway done, and the house a complete wreck. He offered a beer, took Lexie, and straightened up the house.

It’s the kiss I receive every morning, without fail.

It’s when he says, every night, “I love you honey,” before we go to bed.

It’s when he tries really hard to think of perfect presents for me.

It’s when he listens to mundane, insignificant things, thoughts, and complaints day in and day out, without complaint.

So maybe the grand romantic gesture isn’t there or isn’t coming but maybe the lesson is that it’s the small things that count.

Remember those tantrums I was talking about?

We’ve been having huge, drawn-out, mind-blowing, head-turning-around-in-a-circle tantrums in our house for the past 2-3 weeks. Well, let me clarify, Matt and I haven’t had these problems (as far as I know), it’s just our 2 year old making herself and her emotions well known. So, as my bratty, loud, screaming, beautiful, loving, sensitive daughter throws herself around the room, flopping like a fish out of water, head thrown back, mouth wide open, screaming and throwing her arms and legs around (God help you if you get in the way. I have bruises and war wounds to prove how vicious her appendages are.), I just sit at a loss of what to do.

Me! The one who knows everything! The one who went to freakin school for 4 1/2 years to learn about early childhood development and instruction! I have no clue what to do.

My thoughts scramble in my head….um…positive reinforcement! That’s it! Unfortunately, she isn’t doing a damn thing right now that I could praise. Okay….um….time out! That will solve it. Um, no. She flails herself back to her timeout chair, sits and screams, 2 minutes passes, she jumps up, happy as a clam and runs out. No lesson learned there. So, let’s see, third time’s the charm! Spanking. That has to be it. I mean, I have shuddering memories of spankings and threats of spankings so that will make an impression. But oh no, my child just stares back at me, defiant.

So I do what any good mother would do - I hand her over to her father.

Since there seems to be no answer to this dilemma, I tried to think about it like this “every child turns 2. most children turn 2 and become little devils. my child is not different, or wrong, just 2. that’s who fault it is, the number 2.”

No, it didn’t work.

So I tried to examine myself. What am I doing that could prevent this? Is there some modification I could do to right this wrong.

And you know what all this self-examining resulted in? A headache. *cue for you to laugh*

Okay seriously, it resulted in the fact that there are some things I could do differently - getting angry just seems to escalate. I’ve tried to lower my voice to reprimand, not get ruffled, and see what happens. Usually it diffuses the situation faster and easier on everyone’s part.

I do try to discipline but I do understand that most of Lexie’s frustration comes from the fact that she isn’t really vocal yet and can’t tell me what she so obviously feels. Poor little bugger. (Sympathy comes much easier when said bugger is sleeping soundly.) So I play the guessing game and try to vocalize what I think she might be feeling. (Try it sometime, you’ll sound like Mr. Rogers. In fact, I call this the Mr. Rogers vocalizations.)

And, when all else fails, I pick said screaming child up, lift her under my arm (less room for contact hitting), and take her wherever she needs to go. And on that note, I truly believe I could win gold if the Olympics had a sport for fastest time in getting your tantruming, hitting child in the carseat to attract less attention.

And I’ve tried to really think about Lexie. For so long, Lexie was just a baby - a wanting, needing lump. (People you know its true.) And now she’s becoming herself. Her personality is emerging more and more everyday and although I don’t always like it (even more so when I see my faults becoming her faults), it’s her. So, the other day I tried to describe Lexie’s personality, her whole being and I was determined to be positive about it. Yes, it was hard.

Lexie is a wonderfully independent, bright, sensitive child. She loves with her whole heart and more. She tries so much to please everyone and do things correctly and often becomes very frustrated if things don’t work the way she wants them to. She has a short temper. She gets frustrated very easily. She is timid in crowds or around people she doesn’t know but so desperately wants to join in. She needs reassurance from familiar adults. She’s very social. She loves to be included. She wants to be my equal in so many ways. She does things in her time, in her way (so frustrating for an organized, borderline OCD person like myself to deal with.) She is an engineer at heart and likes to take things apart, put them together, fit things together, and figure out electronics (she’s definitely Matt’s daughter).

If I was evaluating her for work, that would be what I would write. And maybe that’s what I need to read when she beating the living daylights out of me because as frustrating as she can be, she’s frustrating because she’s a person now. She is uniquely herself and I need to realize that. She’s no longer a manipulative baby that just eats, sleeps, and poops. She is a toddler and little, growing person. It’s amazing.

And, just for the record, if you see her begin a tantrum, run away. Her arms and legs are very long and she hits and kicks hard.

Eeeek! My baby has moved from her safe, secure crib into a big girl bed. Last night I laid down with her and seriously had tears in my eyes. There are a lot of big changes happening lately that is just taking my baby and thrusting her into toddlerhood and independence. She’s asking to sit on the potty. Now, she doesn’t actually do anything on the potty but she likes to sit there (a.k.a. be naked). So my baby is sleeping in a big bed, asking to sit on the potty, and can work the electronics in this house better than I can (she’s definitely her daddy’s daughter - watch out Bill Gates and Steve Jobs). I just can’t believe how much changes in such a short period of time.

On a literary front - my new favorite author is Jen Lancaster. She’s a foul-mouthed, outspoken, takes-no-shit kind of girl who writes a blog www.jennsylvania.com and has written a few books  (Bitter Is The New Black, Bright Lights Big Ass, and Such A Pretty Fat). Check her out - she’ll make you laugh.

On a geek front - the new Apple iphone 3G is released tomorrow and my husband and I are getting them! YEA! I mean, people, it has visual voicemail! (If you don’t know what that is, check out the little video about it on www.apple.com.) I’m so excited, I can’t believe how geeky I am!

On the boob tube front (anyone know where that comes from??), new favorite show is “Flipping Out” on Bravo. Nothing like an obsessive compulsive paranoid dude that flips houses to make for interesting television. Matt absolutely hates it - he says it drives him nuts. Frankly, I find it hilarious and an interesting study in how much shit people will put up with from an employer. What the hell?

Well, I’m off to work. I have to meet with a kiddo today and then have a meeting tonight at 5:30. Ugh. I hate late meetings.

I have read a certain book multiple times and it has a passage in it that really struck close to home. A single mother is talking to a mom-to-be and she rambles on about the joys and struggles of motherhood. She ends her speech with something like, there are just days that I hate. The friend incredulously asks if she hates her daughter and the mother replies that of course not. There are just days that she just hates.

That particular passage spoke so much to me. There are just days that I hate. It those days when Lexie has thrown one too many tantrums, Matt has to work late or has something else to do and I’m on my own all day, the days that I ask Matt to do something and he tries to compromise or gives me some rebuttal, or the days when other things just piss me off. Those are the times that I just hate. I don’t hate anyone or anything in particular, I just hate in general.

Now I know that anger is not productive to carry around. I know that. And, believe it or not, in my “old age” I’ve learned to let go of a lot of things. My anger usually goes away in its due time and I return to normal.

And then it starts all over again.

So it is midnight. Now, in another lifetime (i.e. before Lexie), midnight would be somewhere in the middle of my evening - ya know, somewhere between a life and bedtime. It this era of my life, midnight is usually the middle of the night for me and yet, here I am, still awake. In a very very short 6 1/2 hours, I will wake up to “MAMA. MAMA. MAMA!” which is still cuter and sweeter than the blare of the alarm but I still don’t bound out of bed, ready to go.

I have to share the secret of surviving parenthood. Are you ready? This is really important. Okay, here it is - Drink coffee. Lots of it. I know! I know! It’s the best sound advice I’ve got. I have discovered that if I have a big cup of joe in the morning, I can handle endless Playhouse Disney and tantrums. Okay, I’ll be honest, I rarely can handle tantrums.

I went and saw the Sex and the City movie last night and it was fabulous. I loved it. But, you know what I took away from it? (SPOILER ALERT) Well, besides the ridiculous (and ridiculously expensive) clothing? The baby. Yes, the baby. I want a baby.

Okay, no more spoilers. Back to the point, I want a baby. I am so totally head over heels in love with the idea of being pregnant (minus the ridiculous amount of morning/all day sickness) and having a baby. For a long time, when I thought of a baby in our house, all I could picture was Lexie when she was a baby and I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t ready for a new baby, I just missed Lexie being a baby. Well, a few weeks ago, we went to a wedding (congrats to the Fleshmans) and there was a baby there and all of a sudden, I could clearly see our family with toddler Lexie and a new baby. I could see Lexie as a big sister. I could see me struggling with a carseat and a toddler (that wasn’t so much a rosy picture). And, I realized I’m ready to expand this family. Thankfully Matt is on the same page. However, logic and reason has won this battle (for the time being) and we are waiting before having another.

Hopefully we won’t have to wait too long.