Ultrasound and advice on neurotic hormones?

I had another ultrasound today. Little sprout measured at 8w1d right on target bouncing around like a jellybean in a can with a HB of 144! I feel relieved and for the first time I'm feeling optimistic. Last time with W we didn't tell people I was pregnant until I was 24 weeks along but this time around we're thinking we might start sharing the news with close friends and family once we pass the first trimester. It feels good to think this way. To allow myself to be like other pregnant folks. Maybe I'll actually get a chance to enjoy being pregnant? [Well, once the nausea fades that is]

One thing plaguing me from time to time is the hormones and the havoc they are wreaking on my emotions. Since the last go around I'd been in the throes of IF and loss I thought my state of mind during my pregnancy was just who I was, an anxious stressed neurotic person. But now, two years into motherhood I know this isn't true. I'm happy and content with my life. Yes, I have bad days and sometimes I get grouchy or sad or moody, but over all I'm thankful for the state of things and I'm not walking around considering worst-case scenarios and freaking out about the smallest of things.

But now? Now, I am. Today we found out there are some insurance issues, serious but not life or death. And the lawn guy didn't come and my bushes look wonky. And the trash hasn't left the driveway. And my house post house-guests is a mess and I'm too tired to clean it.  Maybe these are the triggers maybe they aren't but I am sitting here wondering what is the point of this life and what is the point of me and what a waste of space I am and all sorts of negative thoughts. Yesterday I watched the season finale for Modern Family a show I'm mostly lukewarm about, but when Mitch and Cam didn't get the baby and Mitch said I'm so tired of wanting a child and getting so close and never getting it and I literally sat on the couch and cried for ten minutes and then spent the rest of the day discussing how sad this was with my husband. Some days when I have NO excuse not even a sitcom ,I'll just feel these tears in the back of my throat just waiting for a reason to unfurl. I know this is crazy, I know this is not based on logic but I feel so devestated and depressed so sincerely and truly that I'm tempted to believe it all.

I'm going to start journaling again and writing out things I'm thankful for but I was wondering if any one reading has ever battled depression, or crazy hormones during pregnancy and what they did to deal with it? I'm wondering if I can manage this on my own or if I need to see a therapist. My kid deserves a non-neurotic mother and I hate that I'm aware of how great everything is, and yet the hormones one day will give me peace and the next day make me feel awful. Any advice appreciated.

The nausea and the fruit

Well, it's happened, I'm nauseous. Be careful what you wish for? Worse than I ever was with my son. With him I'd get a bit queasy from time to time, but this go around I'm running to the bathroom and lying around eating saltines for the past few days unable to move much while my son helps 'unpack' the house [by which I mean scatters toys, and Q-tips, and the like into every crevice available].

Today began that way but then I remembered Mina's words of wisdom to have a variety of fruit in the house and to eat that throughout the day as it helps nausea. And well, Mina, you are officially annoited to sainthood in my book because I have done just this, eating bits of watermelon, grapes and apricot and lo and behold things are so much better. Probably not the cure all for everyone, but it has done the trick here.

I have another ultrasound next week and as much as I hate this nausea and how its preventing me from cleaning up or unpacking before we have a house full of guests come Thursday, I am thankful for the reassurance [whether its accurate or not I don't know] it gives me in the here and now.

The Ultrasound

I've been without internet since Sunday so I apologize for writing a post about my Tuesday ultrasound and then never updating again. I was ready to head to a starbucks to update my blog until we managed to get a cable tech here to connect us again. Phew!

The ultrasound went well. I was at 6w1d and a heartbeat of 115 with a due date of January 3, 2013.

I cried like a baby because I was convinced I was getting bad news, but while I'm relieved that things are good right now I'm still skeptical. For one, I thought I'd be further along. Second, I have no symptoms at all really. I have been getting weird emotions lately, like one minute I feel so upset and unhappy and empty I feel there is no point to life [all the while knowing in my rational mind this is crazy] and then the next minute feeling normal. It's like there are storms brewing inside of me and just like real weather and climate I can't control it, much. I guess this is a symptom but really, nothing else.

Still, all is good right now. I'm trying not to be skeptical. I believe somewhere deep down I'm doing this because I'm trying to protect myself from potential hurt that may come by being prepared but you can't ever prepare so I may as well enjoy the moment. Like Mo said on her blog about her own pregnancy, sometimes things just take time that is the only thing that will help one feel better. The doctor is seeing me the week after next for a quick peek to still my nerves and here's hoping the news remains good!

Waiting for Tuesday

My symptoms are still light and/or nonexistent save the fact that I can get angry in a flash. Like, I know there's no need to be angry about the fact that I can't find the remote control but my hormones rise up like a geyser. The good thing is despite said anger I don't show it, I just take a deep breath and wait for the geyser to fall back to normal levels since the feelings are not rational. Otherwise all is quiet except pulling sensations in my groin/uterus area like when you pull your calf muscles. This morning there was brown-red spotting but it wasn't fresh blood so I'm surprisingly calm about that development. Thankfully its stopped.

There was a song by Lisa Loeb I used to love. Waiting For Wednesday. It was a break up song that had no bearing on my life but I just loved singing the chorus waiting for Wednesday with all the angst I could possibly muster. Well now I'm waiting for Tuesday. That's when my ultrasound is scheduled and I'm hoping it will show me good things.

It feels over

I wish I could give a logical reason but today I simply don't feel pregnant anymore. I've not had to wake to pee this time around and today I have no fatigue, no nausea, no emotional hormone feelings-- nothing. Don't you have to wake up and pee when you're pregnant?! I always have. I feel like myself completely and truly. So, it must be over. I'm not crying. I'm not panicking. I am just feeling this way and am certainly sad, slightly frustrated, and wishing that I didn't have to feel this way. I haven't started bleeding so I'll keep hope alive as much as I can but . . . I just don't know at this point.

Lovenox and other thoughts

1. Lovenox hurts. The needle is thin and sharp. And it burns. I don't remember the burn quite so crisp. Is this normal? Might be, perhaps two years has dulled the memory of the pain. 
2. Aside from being tired, I'm not full of symptoms. I got a touch nauseous this morning because I was shopping on an empty stomach, but aside from this, nothing. Not even the "get up and pee in the middle of the night" as I have with my three previous pregnancies.
3. This worries me.
4. I'm not incapacitated nor am I having anxiety-attacks about this but I do wonder if the pregnancy is over. I'm checking for blood daily [not hourly as in the past] and then I feel bad that my negative thoughts will end this pregnancy.
5. Except I know this is not true. If bad thoughts and dark fears ended pregnancies, I wouldn't have my son. So though being worried is not great, I know the only harm is towards me, not towards the dividing being within.
6. Really, more than feeling anxious or upset, I'm a bit concerned. . . and stunned that I'm pregnant. I can't believe my good fortune.
7. But my belief is not requisite. This simply is what it is.
8. My friend told me there is only one truth but its our choice to pick among the million different ways to feel about that truth. The truth may not be our doing, but our emotions and how we tackle it largely are. 
9. So despite the worries that gnaw, I'm choosing to remain hopeful. I'm choosing to focus on the precious miracle that I am lucky to have at this particular moment in time.
10. Because life is traveling forward regardless of how I choose to feel about it, so I may as well choose to feel good.

The OB Visit and Lovenox. . . to do or not to do?

[Note: please don't read on if you're still TTC- lots of baby stuff ahead]

I have to admit as we drove to the doctor's office I had a split second fear that I'd dreamed this all up and was in fact, hallucinating. That they would pull me into the examination room and raise their eyebrows with a straight jacket in the distance asking so why did you think you were pregnant? Did you bring your 'pregnancy test'? But as it turns out their test matched mine and I am five weeks pregnant.

We discussed the usual suspects like avoiding sushi, cigarettes, and deli meat. She also told me my allergies were pregnancy symptoms since I never get allergies [and this is what happens when you're not googling at all times for symptoms!] and that my bloating was perhaps slightly early showing and that by week 12 I might be blatantly pregnant to the world. Well, then!

And then we delved into the deeper question: Lovenox. She told me it was entirely up to me as one doctor had told me I didn't need it, one told me I needed it until twelve weeks, and one had said I could do it throughout if it meant we were better safe than sorry. She didn't feel I needed it but she didn't want me to deal with anxiety being off of it and so its entirely my call at this point.

I don't know. On one hand I'm not sure that lovenox had any bearing on the success of this pregnancy. On the other hand I'm not sure it didn't. At the moment we agreed I'll take it for the first trimester just because that's when my losses occurred and so we'll be safer that way from an emotional standpoint and perhaps also a physical health standpoint. But beyond twelve weeks, I just don't know. Anyone reading have any insight? Would love some perspective.

She noted my weight loss, and then, she noted how less panicky and frantic I was now, she noted my happiness. You are so happy, you exude a sense of fulfillment I didn't see in you before. I want to believe joy comes from within and a sense of happiness can't be from external forces, but for too many years I did forget what it was like to be happy. For so many years I didn't know much beyond panic, worry and tears. So much so that I truly believed this is just who I was. But now, I know I'm more than my paranoias and my doubts and worst-case-scenarios. I'm happy. So thankful to my son for giving me this gift. Because as much as joy is found from within, its my son who gave me this inner peace after years without.

Fully aware that things can go off-kilter as we're still quite early in the game.  But I'm hopeful. And I'm happy. So different from so long ago.

Pregnancy, toddlers, and eating plans

First off, thank you to all of you who left such sweet comments on my previous post. I post here so infrequently so amazed that you're still here, and ever so grateful since outside of y'all only my husband, my best friend, and my mother knows. I'm pregnant. But I know nothing is certain, particularly at this early stage in the game. If you also read my other blog, I won't be writing about anything pregnancy related until I feel truly confident things will be okay, which might be around the 36th week. [old habits die hard? Oh, and my sister-in-law reads it religiously and I'm superstitious about pregnancy.  . . ]

My doctor's appointment is Friday. The positive line was super-dark. Does that mean anything? Does it imply a stronger pregnancy than a faint one? [wow, it didn't take long for my inner crazy to come out did it?] Symptom-wise nothing much happening except I feel like someone has snuck tranquilizers into everything I've eaten today. I am so tired I want to just lie down and nap constantly. And my son is an energizer bunny so this combination is not working great especially when I can't get my sustenance from caffeine in the quantities I once did.

It's a good problem to have.

Since last posting about my efforts to lose weight I've gone from weighing 167 pounds to 145 pounds which puts me safely in a healthy BMI for my height. I had ten more pounds to go to reach my goal weight, but that is perfectly okay!!! This is a good place to start a new pregnancy and unlike the last time when I ate as if the planet would be devoid of food any minute now, I'm going to try to do better.

The issue is relearning new eating habits. I've been sustaining on 800 calories daily since January 2. Once in a while I'll splurge up to 1200 calories but those moments are very rare. I'm used to eating fruit and tea for breakfast. Egg and toast for lunch. A small snack. And a sensible dinner prepared healthy. Now I'm confused how many calories I should consume afraid to take too little and hurt anything going on, and afraid to eat too many because diabetes [and gestational diabetes] is a real and present danger and I don't want to deal with it if I dont' have to. It's odd to have to relearn how to eat more when I was for so long trying to learn how to eat less.

Right now the plan is to eat egg and toast for breakfast, a salad with cheese and olives and an olive oil dressing for lunch, all the fruit and vegetable snacks I desire and a handful of nuts, and a sensible dinner. I can't be certain how many calories this is, but I'm hoping with the focus on good nutrients this will be okay? I also began power walking thirty minutes today and plan to bump it up to an hour a day because going through labor unfit the first time around I realized the value of having endurance.

This is all so surreal. So different than last time. I am hoping for good things. I'm prepared for the worst [as prepared as anyone can be, which is, not much]. And despite my heavy lidded eyes, I'm happy. Ever so happy. Ever so hopeful.

I took a pregnancy test and. . .

It's positive.

Oh. My. Gosh.

#cuepanickandfearsandneurosis

#andjoy

Please God, let it be healthy and happy. Please God, let it stick.

From the mouths of babes

About one week ago, my son pulled me to him from where he sat in his highchair and lifted up my shirt pressing a hand against my stomach. He paused and grinned at it and rubbed my belly and then said baby. He did it again that evening in front of my husband. Later on Skype with my parents. Baby, each and every time. Babies sometimes know these things my mother said with a raised eyebrow and a smile. I imagined the story I'd tell this child, how his/her brother knew they were coming before anyone else did, because he had a sense beyond all of ours borne of pure innocence that is part and parcel of babyhood.

And today I got my period. It's heavy like last month, heavier than I've ever had in my life and hurt more than I can bear. It's funny, I've lost a lot of weight, over twenty pounds so far, and its been difficult involving a lot of dieting and care, but the weight of infertility comes back on in an instant, fitting like an old glove.

Before my son the obstacle in pregnancy was simply ovulating. Once I ovulated pregnancy always followed. I ovulated three times. Each time I got pregnant. My cycles are normal again, I've ovulated three times now this year, and yet there is no pregnancy. I know these things take time but for me its all such a guessing game.

I hung out with a friend last night and she's pregnant with her second timing it to be two years after the birth of her first little girl. She said they wanted to space them this way as its easier according to studies. I wanted to tell her it must be nice to have that luxury to follow studies so faithfully, but how can I fault her for having it easier? How can I feel a tinge of bitterness when I have one, one I thought I wouldnt have.

In some ways its nice to feel this sting. It's good to remember how much I now have and how dark it was when I didn't. How while I nurse an empty womb, I am holding my son all the same.

That's me in the corner. That's me in the spotlight. Losing my . . .

As some of you know I'm a contributing author in an anthology that came out last month. To put a long story short, my local religious community shunned the book, removing it from their book club queu and informing the facebook world that they hated it. While I understand if someone doesn't like it and I didnt' frankly expect them to given their conservative leanings, I didn't expect them to defy the norms of politeness and announce it so harshly online for all the world [including me] to see.

I'm not as spiritual as I'd like but I do want my son in addition to having friends of all walks of life, race and faith, I do want him to have friends in the religious community, the issue is where I live my particular religious community sucks. No other word for it. They are stunted at 10th grade with 10th grade bullying, gossiping, drama, and pettiness. They judge you for the cars you drive, the purse you have, and no matter what they will be your best friends as long as you host tons of fun parties and invite them to it. It's small petty and as much as I enjoy me some guilty-Real House Wives of Blank County on BRAVO I don't want it in my personal life.

And yet that is what I have. That is my community.

I want my son to have friends who are part of his faith. I'm terrified that I'm setting him on a road where he will not have faith and for me this is important. HE can choose later if he doesn't want it, but I need to do my part to give him the opportunity to want it. But what do I do? Invite people I hate who are rude to my face and talk about things that dry up my soul so he can play with their kids? My parents did it. Do I have to do it too?

I feel guilt that I want nothing to do with these people. And guilt that all I have to do to give W these friendships is to host a couple of dinner parties and put on a pained smile and then go to the homes of these people myself. I'm so torn over this I'm literally walking around choking back tears. Part of it is hurt to be publicly called out. Part of it is a deep fear of how much my son will be shortchanged.

I've struggled mightily with sharing this on my regular blog but the shitstorm that could erupt makes me think its not worth the trouble especially since the ramifications could also affect my husband and his friendships and I don't think that will be worth it, so I'm coming here to my safe space. Thanks for reading, have any of you remotely had to struggle with this? Any advice or perspective would be much appreciated. Thank you.

Pregnant or not, when there is no ambiguity

At the grocery store I stared at the sushi. My strict diet limits what I can eat but sushi at about 450 calories could work especially on a Friday, the end of a long week filled with play dates and chasing a toddler learning the art of tantrums. I plucked it in the cart. What if I'm pregnant? I wondered. And yet, I'm not even planning to test until Monday. At my doctor's physical planned strategically to avoid me going mental over purchased pregnancy tests. It should be fine I reasoned.

W took off his shoes in the car and flung them. A series of days of nausea and fatigue preceded today, uterine pulls and twitching making me feel more confident that something was happening. Two and a half years apart, I counted out. I wondered how my son would react to a sibling. How I should start potty training him soon. How they'd go to elementary school together. How I wondered if I'd have more. And then about my weight, and how its two pounds to normal BMI and well, that will all go to crap now won't it. But it was worth it.

And then I stepped out of the car and felt like I peed my pants. Blood. Not a minor spotting and then flow of a period but heavier and redder with small clots.

It came early. And I don't need two lines on a pregnancy test to know what this is.

It's entirely possible I'm wrong. Either way, there was no heart beat flickering on a screen. There was no doctor congratulating me and sending me on my way with a page of appointments. A period or an early. . . it doesn't really make a difference. It means there's no baby this month. I knew to expect this. I know sex doesn't equal baby. I guess the nausea and fatigue, the getting up to pee the past few nights [a thing that only happens in pregnancy for me] and the vivid dreams were just nothing more than what they were. Maybe because I lost my first pregnancy, my Speck conceived this month three years ago. . . that this hurts so much. I am a logical person and I'm telling myself this is just a no for now. . . but for some reason all the grief of infertility and loss is caving in on me, my heart feels broken. I'm embarassed to even say this. Afraid of rolled eyes about my dramatics here. . . but its my truth. It's how I feel.

I guess I won't have to worry as I eat my sushi.

Two Week Wait

First, WOW you're still here!!! Thank you!!!! I listened to your advice, and well, we tried. My ovulation used to last three days or so, whenever it deigned to arrive, but this time it was for just 24 hours. I'm glad I took advantage of the window. Nothing is a given, least of all this. As you guys suggested, I'm sticking with my diet, and should I be lucky enough to see two lines two weeks from yesterday, I will eat well, exercise, and generally not eat whatever the heck I want during pregnancy which is what I did last time. We shall see what happens, but I'm well aware, anything beyond the child I already have is just whipped cream and sprinkles on an already wonderful situation.

No matter what, I'm not letting myself slide back to the depression that dominated me on the road to my son. . . I didn't realize I was in such a dark place until I emerged. In the back of my mind I worry about a miscarriage and how I will handle it. But I can't look to the what if's. I just have to go forward and hope for the best.

Some of you mentioned it had been a while, and I am still blogging, but at my other spot, my non-anonymous one, if you click on the comments to the previous post, I replied to comments using my other blog information. So if you'd like, see you there too :)

Okay, here's to hoping I can manage to be calm, serene and the very image of Buddha these next two weeks. Right. :)

To try or not to try. Your advice desired. Please.

I've come a long way from the last time I posted about doubling my joy and trying for #2. Then, I was terrified of the needles and the high risk screenings and as much as I wanted another child, the process of getting there frankly terrified me.

Not anymore. Now, I regard pregnant bellies with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. I look at them as they press their hands against their lower back and wish for it so bad my arms ache. It's different now ofcourse. I have a toddling child who I love more than air. My heart is full. Still, the heart is a greedy beast.

Getting in the way was my weight. I wanted to be at a healthy weight, which for my height was 149. And as many of you know, this is like the challenge that won't quit as I struggled so long with it. Finally, though, since January, the weight has been peeling off. I'm now 5 pounds away from my healthy BMI.

And today, I ovulated for the first time since I got pregnant with my son.

I'm sharing this here on this site that likely no one reads anymore, because no one can understand this but you. What it feels to realize you ovulated after years of not. I wanted to cry because I was this weight and it was this very month three years ago that I ovulated for the first time ever and had my Speck that never lived past the first trimester. I'm here again. Ovulation is not my given. It's something that is putting me in an emotional tailspin.

My first instinct is to make like rabbits, and try, a normal healthy ovulation is just something I'm not accustomed to seeing. And while ovulation + sex does not always equal baby, for me, each time I had a real ovulation, I did get pregnant. So its not a far stretch that if we try, we'll at least for the time being, conceive. No guaruntees on miscarriages.

Except, I'm five pounds away from my weight loss goal. It's not an easy goal to be so close to and sadly I'm getting there by pretty much subsisting on 800-900 calories a day. I've tried everything, and this is the only thing that gets my weight moving. Not healthy, but working. I can't sustain this if I am pregnant or think I am. Weight loss is more than just a vanity project. I had gestational diabetes, I have insulin resistance, and my blood work shows I'm very much at risk for diabetes and so being at a healthy weight is important.

And I'm in a two bedroom condo in which we can't move. We're house hunting but no guaruntees we'd find it if by the time we'd have a baby.

K, my husband, says its entirely up to me. He says my weight loss has helped me ovulate [which is likely true] and that who is to say I will not ovulate next month and the month after now that I've reached this magic number. He says I could wait. Get my weight down. And then try. The goal was to begin trying in March anyways. But, then, its like looking at a gift, and dumping in the trash.

I mean, I could wait until March? Then again, I'm just five pounds to normal. Just eat 1200 a day until the pregnancy test? And then healthy eating onwards after that? or is it just a risk that's silly to take?

I am so conflicted. I am so scared. I am so confused.

If anyone is reading this, I would love your perspective: In my shoes what would you do?

"Trying to Conceive" to fertiles

I had a very awkward conversation with my mother the other day and I felt the need to share it here because really, only y'all will get it. I hope.

Mom: When do you think you'll try for another baby?
Me: I don't know, maybe in a few months, maybe next year, just don't know right now.
Mom: So you're on the pill? That can be dangerous. . .
Me: No, not on the pill.
Mom: What then?
Me: Nothing.
Mom. So you're trying.
Me: No.
Mom: But if you are not using protection then you're trying.
Me: No. Really, no. I mean if it happened great. But we're not trying.
Mom: If you don't use protection you're trying.

I honestly had forgotten that in the world of fertiles you can really just have sex and get pregnant as simple as that. So in my mom's world, we are trying. I wish she knew that after what I've been to [as you all have too] that having sex and getting pregnant is not really trying much of anything at all.

Standstill

Since I began trying to eat better and live a better healthier lifestyle things have improved. I exercised four times last week. I ate between 1200-1400 calories per day erring on the lower end most days. I have not touched any junk food, nor any white rice, nor pasta.

And I've lost no weight.

I had seen a negative five pound loss which inexplicably went back to a two pound loss and for the past 2.5 weeks its stayed just there, not budging an inch.

I wish I had kept journals of previous weight loss. I want to say that this might be normal. That my body resists my initial attempts to lose weight but over time it will figure it out and what I'm doing will work. I mean logically, less calories in + exercise = weight loss. It's scientific I thought. And yet my body is holding on for dear life to every fat cell a though a famine is around the bend not a McDonald's and Sonic drive-up.

Sigh. I'm still holding strong. Not giving up. But I am discouraged. I gave up carbs for dinner, then carbs for lunch. Carbwise I have two cups of tea with a teaspoon of sugar, one piece of fruit, and a glass of milk daily. That's it. I just don't get it.

Emotional Eating. Damn You.

I went to Whole Foods today to get some meatloaf and salmon. I normally struggle there because they have these chocolate chip cookies that are amazing. Nuke them for 30 seconds. Glass of warm milk. Heaven. Everytime I go its a mental struggle. This time- I nearly forgot about them until I passed them on my way to check- out- and even then- no struggle at all. It's truly amazing to see my body let go of its addiction and constant need for sugar. I do have sugar. I have a spoon in my tea that I have every day. But no cakes, chips, junk food of any sort. No rice or noodles for that matter either. And the transformation of my cravings is amazing.

But damn you emotional eating. I thought you were a fancy psycho-babble term. I pictured emotional eaters weeping over a big gallon of icecream spoon in hand huddled in a corner in the dead of night. But no.

I wrote my second novel and I am really proud of it. I actually sort of LOVE it. So much that I'm okay that the first one got put on hold because tTHIS ONE? This one will knock off an editor's socks. I am that confident in its awesomeness if someone will but give it a chance. I have an agent. I have been trying to reach my agent to get this manuscript to her for her to read. She read the first three chapters in January and gave me a thumbs up to keep going. Which I have. Working toiling, day after day, staying up late, using up all W's nap hours to get this book written, and now its done and I love it. Except I CANT REACH HER. Twitter. Text. Cell phone. Work Phone. E-mail. Nada.

I know she will eventually get back to me. I think. But then, how long until she reads my manuscript? Gives me feedback? It's all making me antsy.

And as I considered it I found myself eating a handful of cashews. Then nibbling on grapes. Not because I was hungry. Or wanting it. Just because. And then I started thinking about that cookie at Whole Foods. Wishing I had it. Wishing I could eat it.

OH. So THAT is what emotional eating is.

I promptly turned on my Wii and did some running and yoga. And I feel better. Still anxious. Stressed. Nervous. But better.

I'm still in my calorie quota for today, but had I not this blog, and my friend who is dieting with me, I KNOW today is the kind of day I would have run out to the nearby sonic ordered a big ice cream sundae and ate it in the car feeling bad for myself and feeling like I deserved this one joy just now.

But I didn't. This is progress. Bigger progress than I thought myself capable of.

PCOS. Dieting. And Ownership.

I resisted cake two days in a row this weekend. While my husband eats ice-cream bars, I eat frozen grapes for dessert [Thanks for the tip Claire!]. I am sticking to 1200-1500 calories per day. And the fact that I am doing this with a friend who also remembers a time when she was a size she loved, and has the same exact weight loss goal as me- its keeping me honest because I don't want to let her down since I truly feel we're in it together.

And today I stepped on the scale and I lost five pounds.

I also had a realization. I have PCOS. The classic case with a ring around the ovaries of eggs that never self-actualized and insulin-resistance running through my blood. My grandfather, two aunts, one uncle, all have type II diabetes. Four cousins have PCOS. I had gestational diabetes. I cannot run away from the reality. Diabetes is where I'm headed if I allow my sweet tooth to reign over me.

While I can debate all I want about what came first, the PCOS or the weight issues. The fact is I haven't been eating healthy. Normal me would have eaten a bite of cake. Then a second because hell, I had one slice why not just start "fresh" tomorrow and go crazy today? And then repeat again the day after.

Today as I cleaned my bedroom I came across a hershey wrapper. It still had one square inside. I found it stuffed in my nightstand. I must have eaten it in secret some time ago so my husband wouldn't see. And I realized: This isn't normal to hide your sweets and keep promising to "get clean" on the elusive 'next day'.

I may not be able to stop diabetes, or PCOS, or future gestational diabetes, but I can at least stop giving my body the things that certainly don't help it deal with those issues. Every bite of cake I refrain from, I'm giving my body a chance at health, a chance to be free from diabetes.

This is more than just fitting back into my size 4 jeans now. This is about taking back my control. And owning my part so it wont happen again.

Baby Showers. Still Hurt.

Baby showers remain remarkably painful affairs. I still refrain from attending when at all possible. I wish I knew why. It is a celebration of the impending arrival of new life. It is enjoying the company of friends. And cooing over a pregnant belly. And debating the merits of boys versus girls. And playing silly baby shower games that kindergartners might find tedious. Oh yeah, now I remember why. I'm also scarred- I attended too many during my season of infertility and loss- I had to sit there and clap at a baby bonnet while my insides were torn into shreds and nod sympathetically as the pregnant party bemoaned how 'big she looked' and then promptly bury my head against the steering wheel, safely away from prying eyes to weep until my soul felt thirsty. As lovely as my son is, as much as he has helped heal my open wounds, I am still wounded- and these sorts of events- still hurt.

I am attending one today despite a million reasons not to. The girl in question painted her nursery in the first trimester, and wanted to have a baby, and then- just did. And I can't hate her for this. For her good fortune. For her lack of struggles since we each have our own crosses to bear- but- I'd rather visit once the baby is born, bring a gift- and avoid the festivities of a baby shower. I had to go since I got talked into a carpool that I despite my lawyer skills, could not talk myself out of, so we will be driving one hour one-way to attend- with no means to leave early.

I will guess the size of her belly. And marvel at baby booties, and blankets. And then I'm going to go home and hold my son so tight- and remind myself that things aren't the same. I might have to visit my dark place some days, but I no longer live there. I've dressed up this dark place with window coverings and a fresh coat of paint, but days like today I am reminded I cannot change what it is and that I must be gentle with this ugly, darker part of me.

Eating from the brain. Eating from the heart.

I really didn't think I was an emotional eater. I thought I just craved sweets. End of story. But as I am doing this whole weight-loss journey I realize its more than that. We are thinking of putting our house on the market and moving closer to the city. Not the best to put your house on the market. Such a bad time in fact that we'd lose more than half our equity. The logic is we'll make up the loss by purchasing a house we could never afford in the city since prices there have gone down too. It's stressful to figure this out all the while your house is having major issues and you are putting money in you know you will NEVER see back.

So today I had egg/toast/tea and then two bowls of soup for lunch with two tall glasses of water. My stomach is full. Yet, as I was driving with W in the backseat, I wanted to stop at the sonic on the way to the grocery store to get a big bowl of icecream. And then at the grocery store I wanted a nice warm chocolate chip cookie. Two. Maybe three. And I wasn't hungry. My stomach was full. I want to lose weight. And yet- I wanted these other things- and I realized then, for the first time, that why yes, I do emotional eat. I want to eat the cookie and the ice cream because tehy will make me feel better. They taste delicious and for that brief moment life will feel better though if I think it all through [which I did] I will regret messing with my progrss- and I know when it comes to crack-sugar [ie. anything in cakes, cookies, etc] I can't just have one bite and a bite now will mean a wasted weekend. That's just how it is.

I don't know what this information tells me because you see, as much as I now am aware I have tendencies to emotionally eat, it does not mean that I don't want to do it.

Haven't done it. But want to.

How strange to learn something new about yourself