Sunday, November 29, 2009

Telling his parents

If you've been reading you know we still haven't told Jack's family I'm pregnant despite the fact that I'm well into my second trimester. After some random people noticed my pregnancy I urged him to tell them this weekend. Once we got there, he changed his mind again. I didn't push it, if he did not feel comfortable who was I to force the issue?

Today as his sister and her family pulled out of the driveway, Jack looked at me and whispered, I'll tell my parents but I'm not ready to tell my sister. My relationship with my in-laws is a rocky one. I did not expect jumps for joy, or even a smile. Still, despite reminding myself the response was painful:

Jack: We have some good news to tell you.
MIL/FIL: What is it?
Jack: We're having a baby.

oh.Two years of stark white lines, two pregnancy losses one of which you witnessed in my home, and now we tell you that perhaps the hell we've endured might be behind us, that we are finally hopeful that a baby might be ours, and the reaction to your son having his first son, is oh?

Oh, is a fine reaction to us telling you I bought new shoes
Oh, is acceptable if I said I got a new job
Oh, is okay for pretty much any fucking thing else but...

when it comes to this, no, oh does not fucking cut it.

We stood there staring at them for a few seconds and then the silence got awkward and we got our luggage to leave. His mom finally mustered, how far along are you. I told her, FIL made a face. Why did he make a grimace? I don't know, but Jack saw the face, and the expression on his face broke my heart. He quietly told them, I shouldn't have told either of you, if you can't be happy you didn't deserve to know. They responded telling him he should respect his elders and what he said was not nice. We closed our car doors and drove away.

I should have expected this but seeing Jack's crestfallen face as he told me in the car, your parents are so excited, they are worried but they obviously care, I feel like I have no parents. It's just wrong. It's so easy to plaster a fake smile and feign joy. Why could not do this for him? He asked me why I was so worked up when I knew they would react like this, I just feel like, they don't deserve to have my baby in their life. He said we're not visiting them again, and if they want to see the baby they can come down and visit, but we're done for now.

I'm sad about their reaction but I don't regret telling them. No matter when we broke the news they would have reacted like this. I do feel sad for my sunflower that he will have a set of grandparents who just won't give him the love he deserves. I had a set of grandparents that didn't care about me, who treated me like a nuisance taking up space. I cried because I don't want my baby to ever feel this way. Luckily Jack agrees, and if they continue behaving in this manner, it will be them who miss out and it is their loss entirely.

Hope y'all thanksgiving weekend went way better.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

So much for motherly instincts

We had the appointment and thank God, all looks well, then they checked the gender and there clear as day . . . our son. I could not stop laughing and crying. I told the tech are you sure, because her name is sara. The tech laughed and said um, nope its 99% certainly a boy. I apologized to him for calling him a girl all this time. I'm the mother, what do I know? He's still my little sunflower and yeah, come Halloween 2010 he will be wearing a sunflower costume. Too bad kiddo!

I oscillate between smiling and crying. I can't believe I've made it this far into the pregnancy. I knew it would be a girl or a boy, but just knowing, truly knowing, makes it so much more real.

I'm leaving today to go to the in-laws until Sunday. We plan to tell them this weekend about my pregnancy. I haven't yet decided if we'll tell them the gender. I know they will look at us blankly and say that's nice, moving on to another topic but I don't think their attitude can erase this goofy grin off this face of mine.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Boy or Girl

I've begun to feel movement. It's pretty spectacular though I heard you're only supposed to feel it once every other day if even, and I'm feeling it every hour. So either I'm mistaking gas for movement or this is one active little one. Tomorrow is my MFM appointment. I chose a 7:45am appointment with the hope that if I'm the first in line it means I'll be in and out quickly. We may find out whether I'm having a girl or boy. It don't really matter but its fun to anticipate something that is not anxiety provoking but just a fun thing to know. So what do you think? Take yer pick!

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Are you pregnant?

I guess I have not really interacted with many people in the past few weeks because I really thought I didn't look pregnant. Sure a little chunkier but not fat. My pants are tight but they fit. My in-laws said nothing, no stares at my belly, only confirming further that I did not in fact, look pregnant.

I went to a wedding yesterday. The first lady I approached said congrats! I asked for what. She said your pregnancy!

This happened three different times.

Jack freaked out since we have yet to tell his family, who were at this wedding so he told them no, we were not pregnant. This felt weird. It's like you're standing next to someone and they say oh could you introduce us? and you look at them like they're crazy and say there's no one there. Even though said person is hopping from foot to foot with its tongue dangling out. I felt like a demented person saying no this bump that is apparently obvious to you does not in fact exist.

I finally confronted Jack. If I appear pregnant we cannot mortify congratulating people by lying! (Two of them came back and profusely apologizedt so I told them I was pregnant but not to say anything since we haven't broken the news to my in-laws).

Jack and I compromised. We'll tell them on Wednesday after the MFM appointment and hopefully stop mortifying future people proffering congratulations.

Friday, November 20, 2009


I got the e-mail today with a contract offering representation with a major agency, my dream agency, one that I sent to as a "may as well" thinking they'd never glance at my unsolicited manuscript.


More details to follow :0)

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Pregnancy Bunker and Agents

In-laws invade Thursday evening and the house is getting ready for their impending arrival. I've turned our spare room into a pregnancy bunker of sorts. The doppler packaging, books, lovenox boxes are all stored there. I didn't realize I accumulated so much . . . stuff. I really hope no one tries to open it. I'm having a hard time putting away the baby pics on the fridge, I guess I'll wait until evening before I put those in the bunker. When they come this laptop is going in the bunker too. I'm not sophisticated enough to know how to delete all my history so I'll be mooching off Jack's laptop should the need arise.

I'm not too anxious about them at the moment. I think I'm distracted as I wait for my agent to get back to me. She e-mailed me Sunday telling me she loved my book but the agency requires two enthusiastic reads so she'll get back to me as soon as her colleague finishes reading it. The waiting is excruciating because this is the agent of my dreams. I've offered them an exclusive for three weeks which expires next Monday. In the meantime another agent has written asking for my manuscript as well. I can't send her anything because I agreed to an exclusive with the first one so now I'm sitting here trying to compose a polite letter saying essentially If agent 1 rejects me and finds my work foolish then I'll send it to you! I guess its a good problem to have, but I'm telling you, I SUCK at waiting!

At least checking your e-mail like an obsessive trying to see if you got a positive response, is a lot cheaper than the pee sticks. So there is that.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

My rock

3am and I can't sleep. I came downstairs flipped on "Top Chef" and decided to run my dishwasher. As I closed the dishwasher I heard J yell "HONEY" at the top of his lungs and then I heard frantic footsteps down the stairs. His eyes were full of fear. Are you okay? I nodded, rushing up to him hugging him, yes, why? what's wrong? He shook his head, I heard a noise, I thought something happened. I told him I was loading the dishwasher because I couldn't sleep. He looked at me and said I'm glad you're okay. I looked at his hands, they were trembling.

Every time I call him at work, the usual mid day call, he asks me are you okay? And in his voice I hear subdued apprehension. When I called him breathless about an agent who seems interested, his first reaction was oh my God, you scared me, I thought something happened. He's afraid to tell anyone because he's scared of losing sunflower. We listen to the doppler every evening and if it takes longer than a second I see his shoulders tense and his jaw clench.

During the trial of infertility and losses, Jack held me up. He talked me off the figurative ledge. He told me everything would be okay.

Tonight is another reminder of how hard these two years have been for us. He's been my post to lean upon but now that things are settling down, I am beginning to see the cracks in his armoire. How hard its been for him to put on the strong front, to keep me from crumbling. I just took this for granted. I assumed his pain was less, that he handled it differently. Just the other day he said to me when sunflower is old enough we'll tell her she had two siblings and I'm pretty sure Speck was her brother. This shocked me because for months we argued as Jack insisted that my miscarriage was not a baby, just some cells that failed to work out. Now he's admitted to me he never felt that way, he said this because he thought it would ease my pain.

Now my fears are slowly diminishing, and he feels more comfortable telling me what he's going through and I feel like I'm looking at my husband of 7 years for the first time.

I'm sitting here now, tears rolling down my cheeks. To think he lives in my home, sleeping next to me in my bed, and only today is the full effect this has all had on him, truly hitting me for the first time.

I will not play cat and mouse

As you all know I moved to this blog because I suspected SIL had found me. Today she called Jack to discuss the logistics of their impending arrival. Jack said to me, it was kind of weird, she kept saying, 'sooooo whats new? anything you want to tell me?' He said it was strange and she said it in a gleeful sort of way like she knew something. I told him she probably read my blog but he thinks she's just being regular weird SIL.

I have a feeling, judging from SILs behavior, that she is going to play a game of cat and mouse with me. I am trying to convince Jack to tell his family, but until he decides to, she's going to 'play' with me. She loves doing that. My plan at the moment is to just address it if she chooses to play those games. I know she will judge me for being infertile (I waited too long), having losses (I waited too long) and being high risk (I waited too long), but really, so what? Just because she believes it, doesn't mean its true. I hope I can do this calmly and rationally. You only give people as much room to lord over you as you allow it. I am worried though because pregnancy makes me a tad. . . pissed. There are some other things I know she will try to make me squirm about (some embarrasing things that happened at my brothers wedding in May), but I'm going to do my best to make a poker face and bite my lip as best I can.

What makes me feel funny is her mentality is that if she did read that blog, her reaction was glee at learning my secret, and not sadness that though we told my parents and brothers, we have yet to tell her. It's strange that the emotion that comes to the forefront of her mind is a childlike giddiness at finding me out, and not sadness that her brother feels so uncomfortable sharing his happy news with his family that he's waiting until Im practically in the labor room before he says a word.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Seriously, WTF!?!

I just found out if I mail-order my lovenox, instead of $250 a month it will be $20 a month. I feel like an idiot that I did not inquire sooner because this isn't a piddling few dollars difference here, but better sooner rather than later. I called MedCo and ordered and paid.

Thirty minutes later our phone rings. It's my FIL. Did you order some medication via mail order? He asks. Jack is speechless. Well, MedCo called saying they had some questions about your medication.

I am absolutely dumbfounded. I called MedCo in a state of fury. They don't even know I'm pregnant and you're calling them? How the hell did you get their number? They have no idea. Are they listed as your alternate contact. Um. Yeah, that happened. (NOT!)

I went up the insurance bureaucratic chain but no one can explain to me why associated with my claim number is my FIL's name, social security number and address. All I can imagine is that since we share the same last name they called him by accident.

They didn't ask Jack why we needed the medication but I'm assuming they'll ask when they arrive Thursday (gulp). Jack will likely tell them at some point we're pregnant but really didn't want to have to explain why I require buckets of meds to boot. Insurance is infuriating.

Monday, November 16, 2009

The day I became the "other" woman

I went to the bank to open up a safe deposit account. As the friendly young associate processed the paperwork I asked her about opening up a 529 at some point. [A college savings account, I know- I'm a bit ahead of myself] She asked me how old my child was, I blushed saying set to arrive in May. Her expression dropped just a tad, with a thin lipped smile she said That's great, we've been trying forever but oh well.

I tried for a while too, I told her. She looked at me with surprise. I'm not sure why. Maybe because when we're consumed in the monthly trial of trying and failing to conceive we forget how many millions are also in our shoes. I told her about PCOS, my miscarriages, and my clotting disorder. She told me she was born with two uteruses that she just now resolved and advanced endometriosis. Her eyes welled with tears as she talked about adoptions that failed to come through. I can't stand the thought of another Christmas without children, she said.

We talked for at least an hour. I gave her the contact information for my doctors, and also the website for Mel's Stirrup Queens. She said she felt so alone because all her friends had children on command. I told her she wasn't alone and that online there is a community of support that can help her get through this.

As I drove home I felt overwhelmed. Had she not told me, I would have been another fertile woman overly eager to plan her child's future who unintentionally reminded her of the painful void in her life. This was an important reminder to me that I don't know the full stories of the pregnant women I see around me, or really anybody. I don't know the backgrounds and the secret struggles they may endure. But I also learned something else: Talking about infertility and loss is important. She struggled for two years with no one to talk to and feeling like her infertility was a stigma which she alone suffered from.

Its strange to be regarded as a pregnant woman. I went to Target and as I approached the maternity section I felt my chest constrict. I walked around the pants and shirts feeling a rush of excitement like I was somewhere I did not belong. I was pretending to be part of a secret select society. Infertility and loss really fucks with your head apparently.

I sometimes wish I could wear have a symbol, a necklace or a bracelet that gave a silent message that I too struggled. I want to be pregnant and I look forward to my belly taking away the sight of my toes but it hurts me to think the sight of me pregnancy might hurt someone else. That one day I might sit at the doctors office rubbing my belly while the girl across from me is waiting for her lab appointment to see if her betas are dropping from her miscarriage. I was there so recently and the pain of those scars still stings. But she won't know. She will see me and feel bitterness towards the world perhaps, like I once did. She will bite her lip to fight back tears like I once did.

A symbol of my struggle would not take away the pain of another but it would help us feel less alone. Yet, short of wearing an I'm infertile! maternity shirt, I'm not sure how to get the message across. I guess like today, I will talk about it when I can, to who I can. It's not enough, but its something.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Dipping my toes in facebook

I quit facebook over a year ago for many reasons. There was a lot of drama, I felt like I was in high school again as facebook is a place where many (not all) use as a showcase of their best self. The prettiest pictures and bubbly updates. If you didn't know any better, everyone on facebook has a perfect life. This is fine, but after update after update about pregnancy news, and birth announcements, I decided why throw myself into drama that is unnecessary, and why hurt myself with these constant announcements? I quit. Quitting facebook had a direct correlation to my social life. People use facebook for everything now including inviting people, if you don't show up on the sidebar, most people simply forget you. After a year of forgetting you become invisible.

I logged on today just to see what it would feel like. IF I get signed by an agent I'm pretty sure they will make me have a facebook account and other social networking accounts like twitter. I am 15 weeks pregnant. I am going shopping today for maternity jeans. And yet, logging on and seeing all these new babies, women I didn't even know were pregnant showing off swollen stomachs, I felt pummeled. This makes NO sense since I am pregnant too, but for some reason I guess my mentality is still that of an infertile miscarrier, an I still feel like an outcast.

Facebook began as a very fun opportunity for me. I enjoyed catching up with old friends and staying in touch with far away friends. I think somewhere along the way the definition of "friendship" loosened on facebook and even people you tangentially knew became friends. You might not feel like you should add them, but then, you feel rude ignoring. Soon you were getting newsfeeds from people, so many people whose minutiae does not intrigue you. Despite the potential wonderfulness of facebook, to see pictures of your friends and those you care for, the flipside of competition and negativity is too overwhelming. Maybe everyone does not have this experience on facebook. Maybe its just the community I'm part of, but it's just amazing to me how powerfully negative that site is for me.

I quickly deactivated my account.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Random thoughts

1. The spotting is gone. My OB thinks it might be because of a very mildly uphill walk we did the day before in a park. Yes, it was a teeny bit hilly, but we weren't climbing a mountain. She said the lovenox makes all areas around there sensitive so it can cause light bleeding. She told me I could continue to do these things but not to freak out if a few days later I see some spotting- Um no thanks!

2. I feel a lot better now. Thank you to you guys for your advice and support. I am happy that it appears I avoided anything like clinical depression because the feeling lasted for only 5 days. Things that are helping are, I plan to join a local writing group and meet some people, I am getting out of the house today to get some sunshine by sitting by the lake and reading a book, and if I feel that low again I'm going to write about it again because letting it out felt great.

3. Despite feeling better I sense I am more anxious than I should be. This is multifaceted and usually a quick run on the treadmill calms me down, but now I can't do that. This anxiety is robbing me of my sleep, so I think I'm going to start doing yoga. Anyone have any good DVDs you can recommend?

4. A few people mentioned on my depression post that perhaps these feelings have something to do with the year catching up to me. Just because I'm in a "safe place" in my pregnancy doesn't mean I'm safe as yesterday's spotting incident revealed. I think I need to find a quiet peaceful spot to think about this year, reflect on it and find some sort of closure or resolution on it because right now the things that happened are a raw gaping wound. I want to start stitching it closed. I know the scars will never fade but at least the wound will close.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

The return of the brown spot

I don't check for blood anymore. I guess that was my first mistake. Today as I was about to step into the shower I realized there is unmistakable brown spotting, and not just a little bit. After the shower I don't see any spotting but it was there.

The doctor told me to come in right away. A cervix check showed all was closed and no bleeding to be seen. We listened to the heartbeat boom away on the doppler and I am now home told that all is well and there's nothing to worry about.

In the past week I began looking at mommy playgroups. I even browsed a maternity clothing store on-line. I considered buying my first baby outfit. When I close my eyes I see my child. I see us sitting by the lake near my house feeding the ducks. This child in my womb is real. She is mine. I want her.

Yet today was another reminder, though all is well, though I feel relief, that nothing in this world is guaranteed.

Depression, the prickly bitch

First, I just want to make sure its clear that I think me being depressed is absolutely silly. I have a solid relationship with my husband, I love my family, and I'm pregnant. I know that when it comes to solid reasons to feel this way, its ludicrous.

Walking in a park today with Jack as the fall leaves fell gold and yellow before our path crunching under our feet, we talked about the future. If my book thing doesn't work, he thought it would be good for me to go back to work. Give it a year or so and then let's think about it, he said, pointing out that lately I just seem down and he's wondering if it has something to do with being home. We talked about the lack of friends lately. Most of our close friends moved in the past few years and now I can count my local friendships on one hand. For people who are pretty social, this is not fun. I suggested I could reactivate facebook and reconnect with the community but we both remembered we didn't particularly enjoy those hangouts where the men discussed stock portfolios and the girls talked about the lipstick of the season. Should we make friendships for the sake of saying we have friends? I can't bring myself to make that compromise yet. After that conversation, I asked Jack if he felt deppressed by this. He looked at me like I was crazy. We have each other, and we have sunflower who cares about anything else?

He's right and yet why am I sitting here feeling depressed? Yes its hard not to have the social network I once had, yes its frustrating to get rejections piled at your door as you pursue your dream, and yes not getting a paycheck is doing a number on my sense of self worth, but I don't know if the way I feel is really about any of this. My father's side of the family suffers depression. I never knew a name for it as a child but it hurt me when I would see my father from time to time sit outside on the patio, alone, staring off with a vacant expression. I'm sure my reasons are triggers but I'm pregnant and in any normal reasonable universe I should be walking around with a permanent dumb grin on my face. As much as depression may be triggered by reasons, I think it may also be a chemical thing.

I'm not prone to depression. I get stressed and anxious and sad sometimes but depression has left me alone for the most part save during PMS. Lately, for at least four days now, its gotten me by the proverbial balls and it's not letting go.

I don't know if its circumstance. There are famous authors in the shoes I want to be in who commit suicide or turn to drugs for reassurance. There are rich people making the money I am not who rack up thousands with shrinks and anti-depressants. I don't think its the things in my life, its a state of mind.

I want to just snap out of it. But I can't figure out how to do it.

Depression is a smoky haze that filters over your entire world view. It makes you feel hopeless even as you remind yourself of the beauty and grace that exists in every breath you take. It's dark oozing black ink leaking onto a crisp white page. It coils around your heart like a snake. I want to shake it but at the moment, I'm just not sure how.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


It's my fault. I pulled the equivalent of wearing white undies and wishing AF wouldn't come. I said, lovenox is not bruising me at all! In fact, I was so unbruised, I began worrying if the injections were even working. I take my shots in the kitchen so I can toss the needle in the trash right away and I generally don't examine my stomach in any major detail. Sure, when I glanced down, I saw some black bruising, but it didn't look that bad. Just now I pressed a hand to my lower belly and felt like instead of the usual pudge that sunflower has managed to lift up, that there was actually a bit of pregnant belly showing! Eager to observe I lifted my shirt and examined my stomach in the mirror and felt promptly horrified. I look like an abuse victim. I'm told to alternate my shots so it looks like two large bruised circles on either side of my stomach.

It's no big deal, I'll do what it takes to bake my baby, and I'll take what comes with it bruises and all, but two thoughts come to mind (1) No bare belly bump pics for me [though perhaps belly pics are smart for moments 13 years from now when I try to guilt trip sunflower with look at my belly! Look at what I do for you! (2) I really wish I could inject below the belly button because these two bruised looking eyes to either side of my stomach seem to merit an expression of sorts.

Lovenox ladies, what do you do when the belly gets too big to stab yourself easily on the right and left?

Monday, November 9, 2009


It's interesting that my former blog had a waiting component to the title as does my new one. Both done unintentionally, but so completely true. I thought once I saw the two pink lines I would be done waiting. Then I thought once I saw the heartbeat flickering on the screen, the waiting would end. Then I thought, second trimester, if I can pass that milestone I will stop waiting. Now, I think, when I have a ripe round belly, then I'll stop waiting. I'm beginning to think I don't know how else to exist but to wait. I'm not terrified every day and there is certainly more joy and peace in my heart over this pregnancy, but the waiting remains. I still sigh with relief when we find the heartbeat on the doppler. I still check those baby countdown tickers to see how many days are left. The happiest part of each day is when I click on it at 12:01am and see that I am now another day further along in my pregnancy.

An agent, my dream agent, has requested my full manuscript and in all likelihood she holds it in her hands as I write this. She asked for a three week exclusive while she decides whether to offer representation. I relent, its after all, just one week longer than the standard two week wait I've done for nearly two years, and with PCOS I hardly ever had the traditional two weeks. You'd think with all the waiting we IFers do, that it would become second nature, but waiting no matter how often I do it, does not get easier. Each year I usually exclaim as December arrives, so soon? This year I cannot say this. Each day has been hard fought and won. Each minute and hour, felt. I suppose that's a benefit of waiting, your life suddenly slows down considerably.

I am reading a book about pregnancy and the author struggled with IF before having her son. She said to women with IF and loss under their belt, the worry never goes away, adding that she only now feels a bit more secure considering her son graduated high school and is off to college. Yikes. I guess babies bring with them new waits. Wait for solid foods, wait for toilet training, wait for the first crush. I hope that once this child is in my arms, I can stop waiting, and I can once again fully, truly resume living again.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Thoughts on frizzy unibrows

Today, the unthinkable happened: My hair straightener broke. The light flickered red for a second and then poof, gone into the infinite abyss. The wand still there but the heat, gone. I jumped up fast and in a half panicked state told the hub, I gotta get to a store and get a new straightener NOW. He looked at me like I was insane but I did indeed drive myself to Target and plunk down $150 for my Chi straightener. The wand in my hand, I felt relieved.

I know this must sound strange. I don't think I'm a vain person. I don't own an expansive wardrobe, I have seven pairs of shoes, and I hardly wear make up, but I need to straighten my hair. Growing up I had frizzy curly hair so unruly my mother kept me in a therapy-inducing boy cut for most of my childhood. When I got older it stayed in a bun or carefully braided lest I walk around school looking like this:
I was what they call an awkward youth, because add to this lovely hair do, my eyebrows which more or less, resembled this:

When I met J he couldn't believe the image I shared of how I once looked. All kids are beautiful he insisted until he took a look at one of my 7th grade pictures. "Oh," is all he said.

Luckily, college introduced me to the beautiful world of hair straighteners and tweezers and I never ever went back. My MIL thought I had naturally straight hair until just a year ago, and I get stopped sometimes by random strangers saying how lucky I am to have such nicely shaped brows. This has all worked out for me, I mean, if I had some issues with my appearance I fixed it with relatively minimal expense and I didn't harm anyone, right?

Except today when I felt that strange panic welling up at the sight of my broken Chi I started thinking, what if my daughter is frizzy haired and unibrowed like me? I want my daughter to believe in her beauty and be confident no matter what. I have a friend who tweezes her baby girl's unibrow but the thought of that makes me feel icky. But then, there's me, plucking and straightening away the very features she may have. How is she supposed to feel about her God given attributes if mommy is willing away those very things on herself? Do as I say, not as I do? A friend once considered getting a nose job but I told her, what if your baby has your nose? Then how will she feel knowing mom was ashamed of that nose? Isn't this the same thing?

It's an interesting thought for me without much of a resolution. I'll love my baby no matter how she looks and I want her to not have the self-esteem and confidence issues I once had. If I can give her one thing its to be proud of who she is. As I look at my warming Chi blinking red, its a question that will nag me for some time to come. What would you do?

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Welcome- again

If you're reading this, thanks for traveling with me- again. I think you're beginning to wonder if I am a nomad as I continually change the location of my blog. In my "about me" section on my old blog, I indicated that the names I used for me and my husband were in fact pseudonyms to protect my identity. I accidentally left a comment on a blog my SIL frequents like an obsessive using my anonymous blog's information and the comment I left indicated who I truly was. Because she obsessively checks the comments on this site, and I realized I did this about 15 hours later, I don't know if she went over to my anonymous site and put 2 and 2 together. I think she may have.

The good thing is I was already password protecting posts that were deeply personal anyways, so I am relieved about that, and though I'm unhappy I made this mistake and very unhappy that at least for 15 hours she had the potential to read my most vulnerable thoughts, I am also reminding myself that its a site about sadness and about fear and hope. It's a site about infertility, miscarriage, and pregnancy. I'm not scribbling about my nym.phoman.iac tendenies or my crack habit. If she reads it, its embarassing, but life isn't over.

In some ways its nice that I've been forced to move. Though wordpress has great templates, its maddeningly vague on its stats re: who is coming and going. If I could have installed a simple statcounter there like I can on blogger, I would know definitively if she was reading or not, since I know her IP address. Alas, I must live with ambiguity, but I decided if I'm going to switch, I may as well switch to a site that allows me a little more autonomy on what I can and cannot do on my blog.

It's also interesting to be switching my blog today, November 7. As you might know, my due date for my first pregnancy was today. It's interesting to leave that blog, template, content an all and really move. It feels symbolic to me.

So, in conclusion, welcome. Let's hope I can manage to not slip my identity in the span of six months to go. Jeebuz! If you've trekked over, please say hey. And thanks again for sticking along!