The Backstory...

As mentioned in my previous post... here's the story of the first week of this pregnancy. It seems like much longer than a few months ago...


The last thirty-six hours have been some of the craziest of my life. Really, I've had some time to think as I've been laid up in bed recovering from emergency surgery, and I still can't seem to wrap my brain around it all...

Tuesday, after not starting my period for what seemed like a while, although I haven't been extremely regular lately, I took my second pregnancy test for the month. It was positive. I was in shock. Especially since I had taken a test 6 days earlier (when I "should have" started my period) and it was very, very negative.

Well... the next few days I spotted. It wasn't anything crazy, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe something was really wrong. I didn't get too excited about the possible pregnancy, and made an appointment for Friday morning at 8:15 to see the nurse practitioner at my doctor's office for a quick exam and ultrasound.

It didn't turn out to be so quick after all. After what seemed like forever, scanning the ultrasound screen for that familiar picture of a tiny baby... we didn't see one in my uterus. But, as the nurse pointed out, there did appear to be one measuring around six weeks in my right Fallopian tube. Not good.

Then, we waited. My doctor was in surgery, and so we didn't get to see her until around 10:30 I think. I'm not sure. It was such a blur. Carson was with Sean and me at the office that morning, and entertaining him while fighting back tears seemed to pass the time fairly quickly, fortunately.

When Dr. Levin returned from surgery, she met us in the ultrasound room for another scan. This time I couldn't stop crying. I just kept looking at that little dot on the screen that may have been a baby, and I couldn't help mourning the fact that I would never meet it. But, the ultrasound tech said she didn't see a heartbeat, which was reassuring to me. We had to end the pregnancy no matter what seeing as it was in my tube, and as long as the baby was already gone, I felt better about it.

My doctor and the ultrasound tech had a discussion, and then my doctor went over my options... which weren't many. One actually. We had to get the pregnancy out of my tube. Although at this point, my sweet doctor kept going over the dates and asking me questions about when I started my last period, when I got the negative pregnancy test, when I got the positive test, and she said it just didn't add up. According to the scan, the pregnancy was about six weeks along, and it was highly unlikely that I would have ovulated in time to already have a six week pregnancy, and if I was six weeks pregnant, I should have gotten a positive pregnancy test much earlier than I did. She said she would try to preserve my tube, and she would not touch my uterus during the procedure, since she has been around a while and knows that things aren't always what they seem. She explained everything to me, thank God for her, and sent us right over to the OR.

My sister came to pick up Carson, and then Sean and I got prepped for surgery. The last thing I remember before going under was the anesthesiologist hugging my face while I sobbed for the loss of this baby. I don't think I'll ever forget that feeling of desperate loss. And for a life I had only been aware of for 4 days.

I hear I was in surgery for about 45 minutes. When I woke up, I barely remember hearing the nurse telling me that what they removed from my tube was a cyst- not a pregnancy. As far as they knew now- I was still pregnant. I probably then asked her about 100 questions, half of them repeats... and truly it wasn't until my anesthesia completely wore off the next day that I was able to talk to Sean and understand what happened.

According to Sean, who talked to Dr. Levin after she was finished with the surgery and before I woke up, the cyst in my tube was bleeding profusely and that was what was causing the spotting. She was able to keep my tube intact and everything else looked great. She didn't touch my uterus, as she said she wouldn't, and nothing else about the procedure would harm a fetus. From what she could tell, I was about four or five days pregnant- which would explain the late positive pregnancy test as well as not seeing an image of the fetus on ultrasound. I have blood work scheduled tomorrow and Wednesday to see if this pregnancy is progressing.

Well, you know me well enough to know I didn't wait for the blood work to take another pregnancy test. This was all so shocking that I needed to see what would happen. The spotting had stopped, but could this really be true? According to the test I took this morning... we are very much still pregnant. We were trying to conceive, without a doubt, but even we can't figure out when it would have happened. I must have ovulated much later than expected... and we honestly don't understand how it all happened the way it did. Our dates just don't seem to paint a clearer picture for us.

I know that all the prayers offered up by our family and friends are what got us through the last few days. I've never had such a powerful lesson in faith.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13


Since I wrote this post, I've had blood work and three ultrasounds to measure the baby's growth- and everything is great. I just reread this entry and I feel just as emotional and just as shocked as I did the day I wrote it. We are so, so very blessed.

Embracing 30 and the Camera

My handsome husband, my baby, and me at my lovely 30th birthday party. (Will blog more about that soon...) My son refuses to look at the camera, and I refuse to pose for 50 pictures while we try every animal noise on the planet trying to get him to look at the camera... so that is what most of our family pictures look like.



That's a lot of smoke. I'd like to say it was from a smallish fire my strong, dashing husband saved us from... but it was from the 30 candles atop my cake. Blah.

It's a Funny Story...

So, OK. You know how you and your spouse always seem to have these little, stupid things that you pick on each other about? Well, Sean and I are always (really, always) arguing with each other about who doesn't listen. Or, who needs to get their hearing tested. Usually, Sean thinks I don't listen. And I think he doesn't speak loudly enough.

A normal day in the Hale house sounds a lot like this:

Sean: blah blah wah wah blah blah blah blah.

JoDee: What?

Sean: blah blah wah wah blah blah blah blah.

JoDee: WHAT?

Sean: BLAH BLAH WAH WAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!

JoDee: Sean Michael! SPEAK UP! I swear you mumble! I can't hear you when you talk in the opposite direction/from the other room/with the TV on and you NEED to SPEAK UP!

Sean: You never listen to me/you need to get your hearing checked.

JoDee: My hearing is fine!! I hear the baby crying at all hours of the night while you're sleeping soundly! You need to learn how to communicate!

Sean: I speak clearly. You're losing your hearing. Get your hearing checked.

(Sean never yells. It's true. And sometimes it gets on my nerves. At least if he yelled, I'd be able to hear him.)

So... a few weeks ago, when I had had it with an earache that never seemed to go away... I made an appointment with the ENT. As I was sitting in the waiting room (in which I was the only person over the age of 6 and under the age of 60) I filled out my new patient paperwork. After checking "no" to about 100 random symptoms, I came across "hearing loss." Well, feeling daring, I checked YES.

The doctor came in rather quickly, examined my ears, and said they were fine. Clean. No sign of infection. So, why the constant earache that wakes me up almost every night??

TMJ.

That's right. My tooth-grinding must be at an all-time high because I now have TMJ. The truth? I have no idea what the T, M, or J stand for. All I remember the doctor saying was "arthritis of the jaw." Awesome. I'm even older.

After my exam, she asked me about my "hearing loss." Well, I didn't exactly know what to say because somehow, "My husband and I are constantly arguing about whether or not I'm losing my hearing, I know I'm not, but I'd like to settle the argument once and for all" didn't really seem appropriate. So, I lied. But, just a little.

Then. I had my hearing tested.

It wasn't the hearing test you remember from 3rd grade. I was sitting in a special little room, with these ear thingies in my ears that completely drowned out ALL sound except the sound of the (really adorable) woman's voice who was performing the test.

I felt a little guilty that I was having this test done while she could possibly make the day of one of the old men in the waiting room (seriously, she was so darn cute...) but I had an argument to settle and I was determined to settle it.

The results? Perfect hearing. I didn't miss a single thing. AH HA!!! I WAS RIGHT!!!!

I of course called Sean as soon as I got out of her office, proclaiming my rightness and his wrongness...

his reply?

"Then that settles it. You have selective hearing."

Of course he would say that. So now I have selective hearing. And TMJ. And a new night guard that makes me gag every time I put in it. Awesome.

Sprinkler Fun

Yes, I'm still updating about our trip to Minnesota...

We decided that this trip was the perfect time to introduce Carson to sprinklers. Not the best idea now that I think about it because even though it was nice and warm outside, the cold water up north of Texas is actually cold. Really really cold. Sooo... as you can see Carson wasn't all that into it...

At first we thought naked was OK...



(OMG that little baby butt is soooo cute!!!!)

Then when he hated it, we decided maybe swim trunks would make a difference. Ha.







Maybe if Daddy isn't such an idiot and runs throught the sprinklers instead of just standing there and waiting for the ice cold water to hit you...



Oh, no, baby! You still hate it? OK. How about some bubbles?













Bubbles (and Aunt Stephie) make everthing better, don't they? Yes. They do.

And because we obviously couldn't remember that ice cold water being sprayed at a one-year-old's face wasn't all that fun, we brought him to a little neighborhood water park (full of SPRINKLERS) the very next day!













What surprised me, after all the water is ICE COLD, Carson enjoyed sitting in the fountain more than being sprayed by the sprinklers. Go figure.





Something I learned about my son while vacationing? He's pretty much cool with anything.

I'm 30

To celebrate this monumental occasion, I treated myself to a down-right indulgent manipedi today. My sweet friend, Sarah, offered to watch Carson and I jumped on it about as fast as... OK, I'm lacking a simile here, but you get the picture. An hour or so later, I found myself sitting in a pedicure chair getting seriously pampered.

I went all out. Spared no expense. I got the Deluxe Spa Pedicure and Deluxe Spa Manicure- complete with shellak (sp?). It's supposed to last two weeks... we shall see. It took about 2 hours- no lie. My butt started to fall asleep.

I was feeling so relaxed and so serene, I started convincing myself that 30 isn't so old after all. I could pass for at least 26, no younger unless the person guessing was half-blind, but 26 isn't bad. Heck, I got carded the other day! I can't look that old yet... I've got nothing to worry about. This birthday is a breeze!!

And then, my manipedi found a way of bringing me back down a peg. The pedicurist took out a power tool in order to chip away at my crusty feet. I guess a regular old pumice stone was not enough for my old-lady hooves... I needed a power sander to do the job. Geez. Then, my manicurist decided to karate-chop my arms as part of my relaxing massage... and my saddle bags began swinging violently in protest. I could even feel the beginnings of a waddle vibrating under my chin.

Luckily, being 30 now, I have a much greater ability to laugh at myself than I did at 20, and I found the whole experience to be pretty funny! I left feeling amazing and greasy and absolutely OK with 30.

Now, while baby boy naps, I'm going to go get all fancied up for dinner tonight with my hubby. He's taking me out for steak, and then tomorrow he's planned a karaoke birthday party for me! Whooo hooo!

Even if I'm technically old now, my birthday is still my birthday and I'm going to enjoy the heck out of it!

Mommy and Carson

This was such a sweet day on our trip to Minnesota.

We spent the last few days of our vacation in Hill City. Possibly the smallest town ever. (I know there are smaller towns according to the population signs; Luckenbach, TX for example. But that's not a real town.) Hill City is an actual, real-life, thriving small town. The grocery store was the size of a gas station, and there were two paved roads and the rest of the main city streets were dirt. I loved it.

We spent our afternoon fishing on Little Bass Lake. It was gorgeous.



Carson hated, and I mean hated, his life vest. It cracked me up. He kept trying to lay back like he was passing out or something. Poor kid. I guess it was pretty restrictive, but he was acting like a dog in clothes for the first time: totally freaked out and afraid to move except to lay down. Hilarious!

He also kept trying to touch the water, or just plain wanted out of the boat and in the water. He loves the water, or as he says, "wa wa!" We didn't catch a bunch of fish that day, but we did have a great time.

That night, we headed out to the town bar/restaurant, Harry's, and took part in a betting ritual we had never seen before... a MEAT RAFFLE. That's right- they sell raffle tickets for meat. In the freezer next to our table there were packs of steaks, roasts, bratwursts, and sausages. The winner of the raffle had their pick until all were gone. We didn't win any meat, but I did have an opportunity to act as white-trash as I ever have- I took a shot while holding my baby.







Notice my "wavy" hair. My hair is stick straight. Crazy straight. That very morning in our villa shower, I noticed a bottle of Wash and Curl shampoo. That's right. Straight out of the 1980's and straight into my shower stall, here it was. I had to try it. You know, in the interest of science.

Crazily enough, I think it actually did work to some degree... I just used my Aunt Nina's styling product for curly hair and scrunched my hair as it air dried... and then I did it again the next day using my regular ol' shampoo to compare. And you know what- everyone said it looked better the day I used Wash and Curl shampoo. Whaddya know? I also had several compliments on how good my hair looked that day... which led me to reevaluate my usual hair style. Which is straight. Very, very straight.

Carson couldn't hang out at Harry's as long as we wanted to since he had such a fun-filled day fishing and all, so we ended up walking around outside the bar to entertain the little guy. Across the dirt road, there was a family hanging out in their front yard and when they saw Carson toddling along the side of the street, called out, "Hey! Want to come over and show your baby our puppies?" I thought about two seconds, when I replied, "Of course!"

These puppies were so dang cute. A Chihuahua and Minuature Dachshund mix, and so stinking adorable. Carson loved them too.





You know, I just don't think there are many places in the United States where you can go to a bar, meet everyone there (several of whom held your baby) and then walk across the street and play with puppies. Seriously. What a great day!

Epic FAIL

Day 3 of cold turkey no paci...




Yeah. I quit.

If you had my morning, you would have too. Don't judge.