The two week weight loss plan

Claire gave me some great food for thought and I spent the day, really thinking about my binge post-declaring-weight-loss and what it meant. And while perhaps I shouldn't be overthinking it- if you've been reading my blog for any amount of time you know, overthinking is just what I do.

Still, I do think that introspection is required. Today, I did not limit myself, I simply observed how I ate- and while I didn't eat great- I noticed that after I would finish something bad for me, like a granola bar with chocolate chips- I felt a sense of disappointment afterwards. Not guilt for having eaten, but disappointment that eating it did not give me the satisfaction I craved- and I then wanted another one- and another one- and I soon realized I could eat twenty and they're not giving me the satisfaction, the sense of fulfillment that I want.

I also realized that I am addicted. And while meth and crack recoverers can avoid their former social circle to be away from the triggers- food is everywhere and so fixing this is going to be an ongoing battle.

I thought back to when I lost thirty pounds when I was getting married. I had internal motivation. I felt good losing the weight. I loved the pants getting looser- and I had grown accustomed to eating less- bites of a hershey kiss doing for me the same as what a container would do for me now. Satisfy me.

I need to teach myself the same habits I had learned back then. I need to believe that despite the fact that I gained it back- that I can do it again.

I am so rooted in the belief that I will fail. Even K tells me that, "I'll have to see it to believe it" based on my many failed attempts- that I'm scared to believe I can do it. And when you think that sooner or later you'll fail, when a giant chocolate cake presents itself you indulge because hey, you're going to fail sooner or later anyways, right?

I want to lose weight because:

• I want my clothes to fit right again
• I want to possibly fight PCOS
• I want to ward of type II diabetes
• an easier time if/when I get pregnant again
• I want my son to see me do this and to see TWO health conscious parents

And- I want to not let my cravings own me. I need to own my cravings. I want my self-control and self-discipline back. I want that more than I want to even lose the weight.

Because sugar is my biggest culprit- my biggest weakness- and one bite leads to two and to three- and then on and so forth- my plan is to give up sugar, rice and pasta for the next two weeks. It's not atkins. It's not south beach. It's just getting rid of sugar, rice and pasta keeping fruit and vegetables intact. I'm also going to track my weight and calories on "myfitnesspal" which is like a free weight watchers and totally awesome- and I'll update here from time-to-time.

Just the thought of going sugar-free is scaring me- but I need to do it because I need to prove to myself that I'm in charge of my body.

Once I can get a hold of my sugar cravings, two weeks hence, I will reassess and make changes to my dieting- but just like breastfeeding was hell on earth those first few weeks, and I survived only by going one feed at a time, so with sugar withdrawal- Ill have to handle it one meal at a time.

Here's hoping I can do this.

Weight Loss- Easier Said. . . Than Done.

So I wrote a post about how I intend to lose weight, how I'd like to drop some weight by my 32nd birthday and before I try to conceive again- and then- I signed off- and went to McDonalds and had a vanilla ice cream cone followed with M&Ms and Pad Thai for dinner.

What. the. fuck?

I never go to McDonalds. My last trip to McDonalds was in 2009 in Spain when we could find nothing in our near the vicinity that didn't have pork, and before then? When I was 18. I don't know what possessed me to declare myself on a diet and then run off to stuff myself with as much sugar as possible.

I think part of it is this fear to give up sugar. To eat healthy. I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm going to fail. Because I've failed so many times before. Because weight loss has always been such a damn struggle- I dont think I can do it- and my body in rebellion against my mind- went to McDonalds.

I used to be a size four, it was a brief time but it was a beautiful time and since then I've looked back with wistfulness wanting it again, never giving away the clothes from that era, but never doing what it takes to get back to where I once was.

I have been at this weight for five years now. I'm ashamed of it. So ashamed I cannot even state it here on this private blog with people who support me, the only ones reading. I begin with sincere effort- and then I drop off- I begin- then I fail.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I'm going to sit down and get more specific. I'm going to make a clear goal. A clear plan. And I will do this. I can do it. I must do it.

PCOS. Weight Loss. And a new bloggy focus.

I've been reading Michele's blog for years now and her recent journey to weight loss is inspiring not just because she succeeded but because she struggled like me, she has PCOS, and she did it. She succeeded. Not to look like a cover-girl [though she looks lovely- and always has] but for the right reasons. I e-mailed her today and asked her if she felt her blogging helped her succeed and she said it did because it kept her accountable.

I hesitated writing about my weight-loss journey here because this is a blog about infertility and loss- but according to my doctor- my PCOS is directly tied with weight. [though what came first, the chicken or the egg e.g. weight caused PCOS or PCOS caused weight I can't be sure] so weight loss is related to the theme of this space.

I've hidden behind my PCOS for years as the reason I've struggled but Michele has PCOS and she did it. And my story is similar to hers in that as much as the medical issues may play a part in the struggle- I DO eat more than I should- I am addicted to sugar to an unhealthy crack-addict degree- and its time to stop so I can finally conquer this- so I can reduce my chance of type II diabetes which runs rampant in my family and which thanks to gest. diabetes I am at an incrased risk for, and so my son will learn to do as I do not as I say.

So I'm dusting the cobwebs off this blog- and I'll be writing here in this anonymous space [away from the eyes of my extended family] to hold myself accountable and also to see for myself, if I can do this. If I stick to calorie control and being good about my diet- can I honestly lose weight? If not- if PCOS just makes this impossible- then at least I'll have this blog to print and take to my doctor to show her just how strict I was and how little I achieved. Though, I hope this is not the case.

March 28- August 28- almost in time for my 32nd birthday. I am going to hold back from setting a weight loss numerical goal- just the goal to kick my sweet addiction, and to watch my calories, and conquer this beast once and for all. I'm using "my fitness pal" a free app and website that helps me track my calories and keeps me accountable no matter where I am.

So while this blog will be updated more regularly, it might also get quite boring with weight-loss vents and pitfalls, so if you decide to stop reading, I understand [really!] and if you do keep reading- thanks, your support means the world.

The pregnancy possibility- answered

Six a.m.

I whispered to my husband, who was holding safe the pregnancy test I purchased until it was exactly 14dpo and not a moment before, that I needed to test now- he told me the secret hiding place- under the bathroom sink- and I went to take the test.

I brought it back to the bedroom and put it on the night stand, snuggled in bed with my husband and my son, and waited while running a hand over his soft hair.

I thought about what it would be like to have two babies under two.
How would I do it? Would I have to wean W early? What about my diet?

And then my mind shifted to . . .

new baby smells, and a friend for W, and my God not having to try not having to struggle and stare at blank pregnancy tests month after month, year after year, doctor's visits, and fertility drugs and the painful way that infertility can leach onto your mind and your soul like a parasite sucking everything else from you but that one thought- how nice to complete my family without struggling this time. What a beautiful gift- to be the mythical family that has a surprise baby after years of struggle.

"It's time," my husband said. So I looked over at the test resting under the glow of my salt rock lamp and. . .

negative.

Instead of tears, a stabbing pain, I felt.. . oh. A trickle of disappointment especially for my husband who looked positively crestfallen [an expression I never saw in all our years of negatives before W] and a mild building of apprehension as I realize that to have my joy doubled- I will have to go through some serious shit. Again.

Still. I'm okay. Feeling a little silly. That after all this time I listened to signs and symptoms and just felt so fucking sure.

I also decided that I'm not ready to go through the range of emotions that infertility and loss bring with it [and I'm fairly certain I will have a loss before I have success as I did with W] I desperately want my son to have a sibling to be his shoulder when we are gone- but I need a little bit of time to enjoy my son and heal my body and more importantly my still open wounds. K agreed, this almost possibility affecting him deeper than I imagined- we both need to let there be some distance- before we put our hearts on the line like that again.

Could it? No. Maybe? Sigh.

I'm not sure how but I've found myself in a two week wait. It was not expected nor planned as I wanted to give my body at least 18 months to heal before thinking about it. I'm on a weight loss kick having shed about 12 pounds since January and wanted to be in good physical shape before putting my body through the ringer again. Plus I'm not on metformin and my cycles have gone wonky again [Thank you PCOS]- and yet I think spontaneity may have coincided with ovulation. . . I tell myself its nothing. It could be nothing- and yet- there I go again- looking at signs, wondering if the headache means something, the sprouting of nausea- even though its only been 5 days and no signs appear so soon- and then I think I've been pregnant three times and I'm feeling similar things? But then I wonder if I'm delusional- because five days.

So we'll see. March 27th I'll test if I need to. What goes after if its two lines? The lovenox and doctor appointments and GD fun part deux? I'm going to take it one day at a time. Ovulation does not always equal pregnancy- and sadly pregnancy does always not equal baby. Still- I have W this time- and I think that's going to make all the difference.

I already sound saner than last time don't I?

Clearly this is not on my regular blog- but I needed a place to sort through it- so obviously its a big old bloggy secret until I know something! :)

Friendship and my fundamental flaw

I can't believe how long its been since I last posted here. I just found comments waiting for moderation from so long ago- I feel bad. I'm sorry I've let my sunflower blog collect dust and gather weeds. Most of my blogging is on my longer-standing non-private blog.[ If you want the link just leave a comment or an e-mail, and its okay to link to both blogs I saw three people asked that- thank you so much for double checking].

I began posting this on my other blog but then realized that the people who I am writing about read that blog religiously and will likely recognize themselves and the last thing I want to do is begin a passive-aggressive dialogue with them. So I bring the issue here- to my safe space and yet I know I hardly post here so I sort of feel like I'm standing in a field talking to my echo. If anyone is still around- thanks for listening.

I have a serious fundamental personality flaw. I cannot stand fakeness. I cannot stand hypocrisy. Now this might sound like the equivalent of saying I work too hard when asked of personal weakness at a job interview, but I do perceive this as a flaw. I really cannot stand insincerity. It pisses me off, it makes my stomach hurt, it makes me want to never be friends or speak to the person again.

And yet, I dont know if its my luck or this is how humans work, I run into this over-and-over again. I have a friend, D. She's been my friend for 4 years now and her and her husband are our go-to couple for an evening out, or to catch a movie with. D will call me sometimes after we meet someone new and talk them in a very negative way. "I can't stand A- she's so annoying- have you heard her voice? She is so weird." and on and on. Then she'll turn to another person with a similar negative take on them. And then- she'll turn around and invite them to her house for a party, and rush over to their house for a dinner party too though she'll be sure to call afterwards to tell me how weird the host was. And- I just. don't. get. it.

I saw today that she's having a superbowl party and on her e-vite she invited two people she purportedly can't stand. I texted her, "oh you're inviting them?" and she responded "ofcourse, why wouldn't I?"

Oh I don't know. Because you say you can't stand them on a regular basis?

Yet this seems to be the way of the world. Every time I make friends this happens. You hear them talk shit about other people. You hear them say cruel things. And then you look on facebook and they're talking about how much they miss them, and you see pictures of them arm in arm- and- I just. don't. get. it.

If I say I don't like someone then it means that while I will be polite to them if I encounter them, I will not invite them to my home, I will not coo over them, I will not write on their facebook walls how awesome they are. Similarly, if you are wrong to me, I will always be polite to you- but I will never forget it and in my heart you are closed to me forever.

And yet- the longer I live the more I see that the rest of the world doesn't operate like this. And my friend D's actions are making me so angry even though she's not the first to behave this way and won't be the last. Even though D hasn't done anything to me, her actions now make me want to have nothing to do with her. And yet- our husbands are friends- we have mutual friends- so I can't do it. I can't drop contact. I have to smile. And I have to be polite. And in turn become a hypocrite. Become Fake. And its making me so angry. Can you see how this is truly a personality flaw now?

I just wonder sometimes if I'm one of the only ones or if really there are far more sincere people than otherwise, I've just had really bad luck.

I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is ending up with people who make you feel all alone. - Lance Clayton- 'World's Greatest Dad'

Late periods, PCOS and weight loss.

You guys are the best. Thank you. I would never wish our journeys on anyone but the community of support you guys provide? Everyone should be so lucky. I hope I do the same for you.

The thoughts on my last post were precipitated by my first period this month. The hope began flickering- a period meant hope of future periods- of ovulation. I grew more hopeful about three weeks ago when I had the telltale signs of ovulation right on time. I am not ready to try again, but I took this as a sign that I'd be one of those people whose bodies became normal after having a child.

No period.

I'm now quite late- I've been bloated, crampy, PMS-y but- no period. It might come. I hope it will. But now its late. It's late. And it means that my friend PCOS is still here ready to party.

I'm not on Metformin, the one that helped regulate me because my OB said to hold off while I am nursing- so I'm trying to figure out what to do. The weight- despite my greatest efforts- is not budging. I can't fit into most of my clothes pre-pregnancy and the weight issue is beginning to take over my thoughts. This isn't me. I feel like I'm wearing a warm winter coat over my real body. But thanks to PCOS losing the weight is infinitely harder.

There are many reasons to lose weight. Feeling confident, fitting into clothes again, preventing diabetes, but most of all its getting rid of PCOS. My doctor says if I can lose the weight, the PCOS will go away.

Now that he's on solids I'm trying to be stricter with my diet. I want to fix this. As much as PCOS is a culprit hurting my metabolism, and making me fight harder than other people to see a drop in the scale- the truth? The truth is I do eat thing that are bad for me and I have to give myself longer than a month of not seeing the scale budge before I give up.

So here's hoping. Hoping that by May. My son's birthday- I can be at a normal BMI again like I was once-upon-a-time- I'd like to think that I don't want to try again until I'm there- but then I wonder if I'll ever get there so I am hesitant to make such a bold assertion.

PS: I don't post much here because I am posting more at my regular non-anonymous site if you want the link just send me an e-mail- I've gotten over my paranoia on that :)

Thoughts on doubling joy

If anyone still reads this, just a note that this is about kids and might be the type of post I found hurtful or painful when I was in the trenches of IF.

Once upon a time I wanted four children. By the time I convinced my husband five years into our marriage, I was content with the idea of three. And then infertility and loss hit me with their anvils and I wondered if I would even get one.

Despite my deepest fears, I have my baby boy. And I am happy. For the first time in a very long time I'm not 'happy considering' or 'happy to the world though my heart is breaking in a million pieces inside." I did not realize it, but the past 2.5 years I was a very depressed person. I look back on some of these posts and I scarcely understand who wrote them? That wasn't me? It was infertility and loss and they had taken over my body and had spread their tentacles over my soul.

And for this reason when I think of adding to the happiness. Doubling my joy. Trying for number two. I feel. . . overwhelmed. I want another child. So does my husband. Its important to us to have a sibling for W if we are lucky enough to conceive again. And this love for W- its like crack- and I'm an unabashed junkie now.

But.

W is my miracle baby. Conceived after a miscarriage when I bucked doctor's order to wait a cycle and just tried before even getting my period- it worked- he's here. He came because my second miscarriage gave me a normal ovulation after five years of wonky ovulation. The first time. Its dumb luck I convinced K to ignore the doctor. Had we waited, I can't be sure if I'd even have a child today.

So the thought of counting cycle days. Having sex and then wondering what may happen. Of Clomid. Of ovary monitoring. Metformin. Lovenox injections. Ultrasound appointments. And the ever present, always present fear of a miscarriage- of something going wrong- I have tears in my eyes as I consider it all. The destination is beautiful- it is marigolds and roses and unicorns- but the journey is scarier than the path to Mordor.

And I want so badly to try again. And I'm scared so badly too. Scared to relinquish my joy for worry once more. Scared of the waiting. The wondering. I'm sorry to sound graphic but if I have one more fetus slip through my body onto a cold floor I don't know if I can handle it.

But I have to handle it. I have to get used to blanks on pregnancy tests again. The feeling of failure. And scary doctor visits. I have to if I want what I want. Its just scary to consider right now.

I dont know if anyone still reads this but if you have any advice I would appreciate it very much.

Looking into the looking glass

We went to Red Lobster today. Ten dollar coupon. Endless shrimp. Why not, we thought. We sat down at the round table placed for us with just enough space to wedge W's stroller in so it was out of the way. He was on cute baby duty it seemed. He was giggling and squealing with delight. He was playing with his stuffed animals and trying to devour his toes. After a while he got squirmy and I lifted him up, and he grinned and babbled and sucked his thumb. He was Gerber Baby. Brown Gerber Baby. People kept stopping by to coo over him, to chuckle at his giddy joy at everything- the straw, the plate, my hair, everything he saw.

But ofcourse I saw the one couple- in their 40's sitting right across from us. The lady wore a pretty green shawl and had stylish black glasses. Her husband sat across from her with sandy gray hair and his shoulders slightly hunched. They stared at him too, and they smiled- but I recognized the smile. Dammit. I recognized it and I knew there was heartbreak behind that smile. I know I'm assuming. Maybe she is the mother of twelve bouncing boys all too busy to join their parents for dinner, but you know. Sometimes you just know. Because I could see myself from the outside. This couple sitting in the middle of the room, bouncing a baby boy, singing to him while he giggled and cooed- and I know I would have looked over my shoulder and smiled just like that while a million knives stabbed my heart.

Its not like I feel guilty all the time. But moments like this hurt because I see it from their eyes and I want to hug them and I want to say it will be okay- except I don't know that. Except that for some people, its just too late.

Does it get easier? This survivor's guilt?

Twitter, oh dear

Well I decided that since I'm trying to get a book published- I should get active on the social networking sites that everyone talks about: twitter. I'm slowly getting the hang of it, its kind of fun. Are you guys on it? If so please leave me your handle (or whatever they call it) and I'll add you so I can follow you :)

Infertility and Trains

On the airport train en route to our flight to Denver, I smiled as all the passengers of the tram smiled and cooed over my baby. What a smile! His eyes light up! Aw what a flirt! I grinned and nodded and thanked people for their congratulations and kind words. One passenger turned to a woman, in her early fifties if I was to guess, standing next to him, a colleague it seemed, and asked how many kids do you have? She smiled and said none. We tried since we got married but it never happened. She paused, the smile still frozen on her face. Yep, we tried, we wanted it, but it didn't happen. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

My husband and I looked at each other. We didn't have to say a word. We knew what the other was thinking. And I'm pretty sure I don't have to tell you because you know exactly what it feels like to be her. It hurt my heart that this woman had to endure a train full of people oggling a baby making statements like this is what life is all about all the while she stood there smiling politely. When I can I do tell people the struggles I faced, but on this train ride, a full minute in length, throngs of people gripping metal bars surrounding me, how could I?

We had lunch with a co-worker of my husband's today. She loves kids and also could never have any. She held W and kissed him on the cheek. He giggled and cooed and adored her. She doesn't know I was in her shoes too. . . and at a meal of project cuts and site visits where the mention of infertility never even made a peep how could I tell her?

And who does telling help? Does it just help ease my survivor's guilt? Does it really matter? It doesn't change the facts. They did not get their heart's desire. I try not to pull myself into a tailspin at moments like these of why me not them? Because what good does it do? It never helped when it was the other way, why them, why not me? It surely can't help now either.

Moments like this remind me that I may have a child but infertility and loss have forever changed me. I kiss him more than I probably should. I find myself gazing into his eyes unable to look away. Sleepless nights. Tearful tantrums. All things that I thought I would surely lose my patience on, I handle with a grace that is not typical of how I normally operate when faced with challenging circumstances.

That's the good side of life after infertility. The other side is the way your stomach drops when you meet someone still in the trenches. When you remember what you left behind. For better and worse, whether I have just this one child or five more, infertility is like a bullet lodged deep within me, one that no matter how hard you try will remain exactly where it is. You are free from its dangerous grip- but its imprint will always remain.

This and that**updated

• It's been a while since I've posted. I post slightly more at my other site, and since I can't find the hours in the day to send out the e-mail I will most certainly take down the link by the end of the weekend but if you want to follow me over I'd be most honored. I love comments, but please no references to this blog :) This is my private one where I can write about things I don't want everyone (i.e. family, friends) reading.
• Little guy is not sleeping anymore. We went from 5 hours stretches, to 6, to 7!! And then down to waking every 2-3 hours nightly like clockwork. I am feeling like a zombie due to sleep deprivation, as though I've been transported back into the early days of having a baby. Not just that, he used to lay in the crib without a fuss and coo and chat to himself and fall asleep, now its a 45 minute production of tears and screams to get him in bed. I thought it got easier, not harder?!
• I'm worried my milk supply is the cause. Last night we gave him a bottle of formula for its purported ability to keep a sleeping baby sleeping longer and I pumped out of curiosity to see how much milk I was making. 3 ounces total. 3 lousy ounces to feed a 14+ pound baby. I've heard that baby extracts more than the pump so I might have more but I'm wondering if milk supply is the reason.
• Although this theory was a tiny bit eroded last night since he woke up 2 hours after the bottle screaming. This time I gave him tylenol, he instantly quieted down and fell asleep. So maybe this is all teething related? The white buds are under his gums waiting to come out. He's got a lot of teeth- I guess I'll be sleep deprived for a while if this is the case.
• But my doctor thinks its my diet. I joined weight watchers. I was doing GREAT on it. Losing 2 pounds a week for a total of 7 pounds to date. I NEVER lose weight like that (thank you PCOS) but his sleep deprivation coincided with this. I talked to a LLL volunteer who also agreed it might be my diet. I've been advised not to lose weight at all, but I feel like I'm wearing a fat suit and I want to get out of it! And WW does give you points if your'e nursing. I'm able to eat VERY well on the diet. I mean, two eggs with toast for breakfast, pasta for dinner! I'm not exactly starving. I don't get it.
• Do you have any advice on baby sleep regression? I can't imagine letting him cry it out. I tried it for four minutes last night and I was a hysterical sobbing mess. Just can't do it. Any advice on weight loss? Milk supply issues? Battling the inability to sleep once the baby is asleep because your'e lying in wait for him to awake next?? I've ordered fenugreek, I eat fennel seeds every day as is, and I'm now adding oatmeal. Sigh.
• But let me be clear, the fat suit, the insomnia, the hysterical shrieks of my bebe- wouldn't have it any other way. I am happy. So happy he's here. I don't take THAT for granted.

Updated to add, the past two days I ate whatever I wanted, like a nut, and today when I pumped I got out 6.5 ounces. Yep- food is definitely a factor. Sigh. I really want to lose this weight but not at the cost of giving up nursing which I worked SOOOO hard to stick to and which I actually now love doing. It's weird to bemoan that I MUST eat to my heart's content but I really feel motivated to shed the weight. weird.

Kate, I was told that if you start solids at 4 months it can issues but everyone I know who has started at four are just fine. Did you do any reading on this?

Well that didn't work

I thought I would just e-mail everyone who asked because on wordpress when someone leaves a comment you get their address too. Apparently blogger doesn't do this. Hm. If you were one of the people who did not get an e-mail from me, that's why, I didn't get your e-mail address, if you can please leave it in the comments or send me an e-mail. Ergh. Sorry.

Pregnancy After Miscarriage- Doctors Weigh In

Just read this article that said that doctors now tell women to TTC again ASAP after having a miscarriage because it boosts your chances of a successful pregnancy. I can understand wanting to wait to TTC after a miscarriage if you need to recover emotionally, but physically speaking I can't agree more and I WISH more doctors told their patients this. Were it not for me NOT heeding my doctors advice and doing what this article said, I would not have a baby snoring loudly in the swing across from me.

Erm. Whoops.

Little guy sleeps his longest stretch as five hours from about 12-5am, I hear this is called sleeping through the night. For two nights in a row he was only giving me three hour stretches so last night I was beyond fatigued so last night when he woke up at 5am I was so tired I walked over gave him a pacifier and went back to bed. He didn't cry (he never does at this hour), he just wiggled around and grunted loudly, but then the next thing I knew it was 7:00am and he was FAST ASLEEP. He ultimately got up at 7:30am and even then he wasn't crazed with hunger, he actually grinned at me and then began pouting.

Is it okay that I let him sleep that long without feeding him?

Motherhood: feeling happy about the same thing you feel guilty about.

Blogging Post IF

When I began this blog years earlier I had a vision. I planned to write here anonymously about all things IF. After a year it became all things IF and loss. And then all things pregnancy after IF and loss. I had a lot to say on these topics, and I blogged nearly every day. Sometimes twice a day. But I always had a plan. I had a vision that one day I would reach the promised land of baby and I would end this blog with a picture of my smiling baby and another website of hope for someone who stumbles across it feeling the pain I felt when I began.

But this was a plan I made before anyone really read my blog. This was a plan before I got to know any of you and the wonderful support you've provided me on this journey- I really can't put it into words so I'm not even going to try- IF cost me many things including friendships I had in real life. There were times I had no one to talk to about what I was going through and it was with you all that I could say what I felt freely without fear of judgment. I am tearing up as I say this: You guys will never know how much your support means to me.

So it became hard to leave like I planned. So I changed the look of the blog, told you a bit more about myself, and decided to keep on blogging here. But this is proving to be challenging.

You see, I have another blog. One I've written in for over six years. It's read by my family and friends. For that reason I've never blogged there about IF and loss because unlike many of you who are brave enough to own that part of your life publicly, I'm not. While most of my friends and family do know now what I've gone through, my other blog is still just not the space where I would like to be public about this. While I went through my IF and loss struggles I updated that blog very infrequently. But now, I update there more because it feels strange to me to update here, on this blog of IF, about happy-happy-joy-joy stuff about parenthood knowing that many of you reading are still on the journey, still hurting. It feels like I'm adding salt to wounds and so I find myself not having much to say here, but more to say there.

But, I miss you guys. Susan suggested that others might be interested in reading about the other side of me. The other side I write about on the other blog now that my mind is not as one track as it had been for 2.5 years. I'm not taking away this site. It stays. I still have things to say about IF and loss, and when I do, it will be said here. And one day, if and when we try for another baby, it will likely be here that I will document that as well. But in the meantime, for all the other stuff, I think instead of juggling two sites I'm going to do it over there. If you're interested in reading the silly things I have to say about life and want to get the link to the other blog, please shoot me an e-mail or leave me a comment. My only request is that if you are interested, that you please not mention this blog in the comments or anywhere else. It's not that I'm ashamed of what I have gone through. It's just that I'd rather my in-laws not trace me back here. I've moved my IF blog three times now, and I really want to keep my IF blog parked here for now.

I will take down this post in a week, but in the meantime if you're interested, I'm honored. See you on the other side.

A year ago today

This weekend last year was spent in bed praying that the red spotting would not lead to more. This Sunday last year we went to the ER. As I stepped into the dressing gown I lost my pregnancy on the cold tiled floor. This time last year I passed out from the pain medications. My husband thought I died since it took some time to revive me. This time last year my parents drove up to comfort me as I endured my second miscarriage in nearly as many months.

If I had not had that second pregnancy I would not have had this third. The second miscarriage gave me my first normal ovulation. Two weeks from today, one year ago, I ovulated the egg that became the child sleeping in the Moses basket next to my bed.

I ponder the what ifs on days like today: What if I had listened to my OB and waited a few cycles before trying again. What if I couldn't convince Jack to try that night when ovulation was certain. What if I didn't have lovoenox. Or extra folic acid. Or baby aspirin. What if. What if. What if. The what if's take my breath away. The idea that he could so easily, just by Jack saying no, just by one small twist of fate, this baby would not be here. This living breathing reality that I feel I've known all my life. That I feel was meant to be here from the beginning with such certainty I can't fully comprehend how it almost could possibly not have been. But these are the good kind of what ifs. Not the kind of what ifs that haunted my life this time last year.

I look at my life just one year ago. I read my old blogs at what was and how I felt. I can't believe how much life can change in the course of one year. One year ago I was leaving an ER empty, and now life is more beautiful than words can give justice to.

Thank you to all the powers that be. I hope I will always remember how fortunate I am.

My New Look

I've always liked my anonymity here. I have another blog which is less anonymous where I wear my race and faith on my sleeve. I'm used to the 'burden of the minority' which is when you are part of a minority your actions can often be taken to represent the beliefs and views of all of your particular minority. I handle this well for the most part. I strive to break the negative stereotypes but when I began a blog about IF and loss I wanted to not have to go into that part of myself. I wanted a place where no one would see my name or the color of my skin and begin to make assumptions. I could write about family politics, or anger or sadness without worrying that anyone would accidentally make a sweeping generalization of my faith or race as a whole. I liked that. I kind of didn't mind keeping it that way. And then came Faisal Shahzad. The seemingly nice and normal assimilated Muslim-American who decided to try and plant a bomb in Times Square. Stupid. Idiotic. Deplorable. And then I read Zeitoun. The heroic man who stayed behind in Katrina to help and was thrown into a Gitmo like prison system without any regard for his rights. And I decided that though I'm not comfortable going completely unanonymous- maybe its good to share a little of who I am beyond the IF and the loss. Maybe its good that you see my faith and my race. So you know that there are Pakistani-Americans, Muslims, who struggled like you. Who are good. Who are hard working contributing members of society. I'm just one of billions. And I'm more interested in the color of my baby's poo or the buzz on the movie Inception. I'm the norm. But people like me don't make headlines. We don't make news stories. So in my little corner of this huge internet sea- I'm going to tell you who I am. And hope that it doesn't matter to you at all.

What she said she said

Just read this post from CeCe about how sometimes loss makes you fully cherish what you have. I don't presume to compare my miscarriages to the loss of a child you've held properly in your arms but I began to wonder, do my losses change the way I mother? I think the answer is unequivocally yes. There is hardly a day that passes where Speck or Bug don't cross my mind. Not formally. I don't sit and stare at the ultrasound pictures. Or journal about them. Or cry. But I think of them when I see the child of a friend whose son would have been the same age as Bug. Or I look at the calendar to figure out when we'll start solids and realize Speck would be chomping down rice cereal by now. That they would have names by now, real ones, not cute pet names. It's there. It's subtle but its there. It is always there. And as time passes I think this is not an entirely bad thing.

I know without what I lost I would not know how much I gain in sleepless nights, mysterious crying spells, spit ups, poopy diapers, and frustrating percentile growth charts. I know that because I had to face the reality that I might never be a mother I kiss him more and hold him longer and never forget the blessing that is him. While I wont say the dreaded it happened for a reason, it did happen and I am a different, and arguably better parent because of it.

Losing the baby weight

The first six weeks post-bebe I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted. I ate pizza, icecream, cupcakes and cookies. It was beautiful. More beautiful was the fact that I was eating like I was prepping for a sumo wrestling competition and yet was gaining nary a pound. Nada. Zip. Imagine when I actually start eating right and working out? I thought. I'll be a skinny minnie in no time!

Wrong.

Once the six weeks was up and I got the go ahead to exercise I began working out one hour daily on my Wii Fit. I started cutting out all sweets and stopped eating after dinner. I figured the weight would drop like its hot but that didn't happen. Just like before, my weight did not go up, nor did it go down. For ten days I did this and I got increasingly fed up until I just went and ate a bunch of fries. The next day I dropped a pound.

I haven't had to think about weight loss for years while I struggled to get and stay pregnant. Now its time again and the old frustrations rear their ugly heads. I thought nursing would help the pounds fall but I've since learned this is untrue. I read scientific journals stating that there is no conclusive evidence that breastfeeding causes weight loss. My OB said for some it does, and for some BFing can actually make you hang on to weight as your body ensures you have enough fat to continue breastfeed. Body- I HAVE ENOUGH FAT you need not worry!

I have PCOS. Before I got on Metformin I could never lose weight. On Met by following a reasonable diet and exercersing my weight began regulating. But my doc wont prescribe it while I nurse.

I started weight watchers last Wednesday. In the past it was the only thing that worked for me. This week I lost 2 pounds, but I'm not going to be convinced until I see continual droppage since I fluctuate with those two pounds anyways. My hope is that weight watchers will help me realize if I'm eating more than I think I am, and if I am doing everything and sticking to the WW guidelines and still not losing weight at least I'll have some proof to show my OB and perhaps convince her to give me my Met again.

I am refusing to buy new clothes for this new looking me. I need to get back to where I was. And how sad since where I was is not where I ultimately want to be. In the meantime I wear stretchy skirts galore and hope that sooner or later this weight will come off!