New Beginnings

Good afternoon, ya'll! Happy (most likely) first day back to reality for most of you! I, for one, am genuinely happy to be back to my boring, monotonous and joyful life. And even if it is so boring and monotonous, it is very joyful. I find joy in every morning that we all wake up feeling well. I find joy in every toy I step on in the playroom because we are fortunate my daughter has so much to play with. I find joy in her, even if sometimes she is mean. as. a. snake to me.

Lately, she's picked up some habit of shaking her little finger at me while saying "no, no, NO mama!"

It's so funny. I have to hide my laughter, because she really shouldn't be telling me no just because I am asking her to stop whatever it is she's doing. But God help me, she sees my smile in my eyes. I have a feeling I'll be fighting that battle for the rest of my life.

These past two weeks have not always been so joyful, though. I have a secret. Many people know it, many people don't. A whole lot more are about to (if I may be so bold as to assume people read this).

I was pregnant.

Was.

I had the greatest joy of seeing a tiny heartbeat on a large monitor, and the greatest sorrow of learning it had gone away.

First, let me say, I am fine. I am strong. Stronger than I ever give myself credit for until I am forced to just accept it. I am a strong woman. I tell you this because I am not looking for pity, or looking to force you to share your hardships with me (although I will always gladly hear them).

I'm sharing this because my very soul heals the best when I share. I am an over-sharer. And if you will allow me to be so selfish, I will tell you my story, in the shortest and most abridged version I can manage.

The switch flipped for me around September. I went from "Holy cow, I am not sure I even want another kid!" to "BABY. NOW."

And in November, I found I had gotten my wish. I got three very faint double pink lines, the same I had seen at just 4 weeks with my Violet. I shared the news with family right away, but waited until my 8 week ultrasound to share with my precious coworkers. I was only measuring 7 weeks, but there he/she was, with that little flutter of a heartbeat, and and the body of a seahorse. My co-worker told me "he" looked like he was wearing a Santa hat. I definitely agreed.

When I didn't get sick around 6 weeks, I was counting my blessings. I had gotten nausea for 5 straight weeks with Violet, but I knew all pregnancies were different, so instead I relished in my good health, and daydreamed about a little boy with Violet's face and Chris's green eyes.

At exactly 9 weeks, I saw something troubling. I won't get into the details, but I called my nurse right away, and she told me what I was experiencing was normal. I accepted that answer. Five minutes later, I called back. At my insistence, she told me to come in for an u/s, "just to check."

I called Chris, because even though I was so certain I was being paranoid, I needed him there. He quickly agreed to meet me, and we went into the dark room with knots in our stomachs. Violet was playing with her stroller, none the wiser of what was going on.

The U/S tech confirmed my worst fear. The baby had stopped growing, and the heartbeat was nowhere to be seen.

I just kept crying, and saying over and over "I knew it, Chris. I knew it."

From there, everything was a blur. They brought me through some back door to see my doctor, who, after offering me her condolences, started to give me my options. From her suggestion (although she in NO way pushed this one me), we all decided that it would be best for me to have a surgery done, and soon.

All I could think about was Christmas. Weird, huh? I was so sad. But all I could think about was going home for Christmas. It was one week away. We were going to Mobile, and now more than ever I needed that trip to see my family. She told me the surgery could be done as soon as the next day, so we went home, and I called to schedule. 1:30pm on thatThursday, I was admitted to the hospital. 3 hours later, I was going home. No pain. No grogginess even. It's as if it never happened.

And I think that was the saddest part of all.

My father-in-law had offered to take V with him for the weekend, so Chris could take care of me, but she got a nasty bout of stomach virus (her second round in two weeks) that she quickly gave to him, so late that Saturday night, she was home with us. I was so glad to see her. I watched her sleeping that night and cried again, this time because I was so thankful she was there. My light; my sweet V,

It's been only 13 days since my world went from Mama of Two back to just Mama. But, instead of dreading the upcoming January, I find that the timing couldn't have been better. A new year, full of new hope and new family decisions. Definitely going to be full of growth, and happiness and frustration, laughter and tears, and pulling my hair out and growing it back. I'm not the first of my friends and acquaintances to go through this, and I won't be the last. I have amazing support from everyone in my life, and I am so lucky to have had that. I don't know what I would have done without it.

Right now I'm just looking forward to the future. And working on my poker face so I can get through Violet's "trying two's." And potty training.

And so I will end this with one of my favorite lines of one of my favorite movies, spoken by the one and only Dolly Parton, as Truvy:

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."

Happy New Year, everyone!

Love,
Dominique

I Can't Be the Only Mom Who is Terrified of Potty Training

So, I know it's been a long, long while since I wrote anything. I could go into how I was busy, and holidays and whatever, but I won't. Too much ground to cover, people. And if we're being honest, not a whole lot has happened recently until now.

Out of nowhere, it seems my 21 month old wild child has started showing all of the typical signs of being ready to potty train. And what I mean by showing signs, I mean she started acting weird about stuff, so I googled it like you would google symptoms on WebMD. Unlike WebMD, however, the answer was pretty clear (not ebola! Yay!)

My first thought was, "What?! I'm not ready for that. I wasn't even going to THINK about that until she was two, at least. What's her problem anyway? Diapers are great. They catch everything, and she never has to slow down or risk Ebola in a gas station bathroom because you got lost."

Well, it may have not been that dramatic. But I was selfishly hoping to keep her in diapers for a while longer and relish in my (reasonably) clean home.

So now I spend my time on Amazon researching potties. Do I go with a full toddler potty or just the seat attachment and get a step stool? I should probably get one that can do both, right? How about this sesame street one? Does that look like a friendly place to poop? How should I know what's friendly? Friendly places for adults generally only have to be clean.

And pull ups or training pants. What's the point of a pull up anyway? It's just a diaper that you don't unlatch. It still feels like a diaper. A mom's dream, right? But my baby won't know the difference and will continue to go whenever and where ever her little heart desires because she's basically in a diaper still.

So my mom is a firm believer in training pants. Also known as "Super thick absorbent but not leak proof underwear." "She has to get uncomfortable," she says. "It'll be FUN," she says. Well she didn't say that last part (and after five kids, she would know.) What about my comfort level? What about all of the surfaces that may or may not smell like urine in my house from now on? Minnie Mouse chair? The couch? The amazingly-still-looks-good WHITE carpet in the playroom? Her crib? Her beautiful crib, with it's teeth marks on one rail and her lavender bedding I bought to match her pretty name.

So I look at these training pants on amazon, with their pretty pink flowers and I think "You're trying to ruin me."

But I think she might be right. I mean, my sister's house and my brother's house don't smell like a cat lady's - and they both have two girls.

And so we have an Abby Cadabby (with real flushing sound!) pink potty chair arriving Friday, and I guess I'll add some training pants and pull ups (for naps and day care) to the list as well.

Sigh. Goodbye smells like nothing playroom.

I hardly knew ye.

Love,
Dominique