What is there to say about me?  I was born and raised in San Jose, California.  I led a pretty darned sheltered existence there, which I only now realize how precious that was. I was the youngest of five children, by a good eight years.  My mother used to like to say that I was “born middle aged” because of my regimented, worry-wart personality.  I went to an all-girls Catholic high school, which wasn’t near as bad as it sounds.  This was California, after all, and the school was rather liberal.  I made some great friends there and look back on those years very fondly.  I left California to go to school in… Nevada.  It seemed a good idea at the time, since I was pretty desperate to leave the state and venture out into the world.  Nevada was as far as my parents would allow me to go.  I never expected to STAY in Nevada.  Alas, in my third year there I met Kile.  The rest, as they say, is history.  We were married about two years later and Harry was born a year or so after that.

I got “baby fever” shortly after we were married and conceiving Harry wasn’t a problem at all.  I had a textbook pregnancy, save for the lack of weight gain.  I was sent to nutritionists before it was determined that this was just what my body did.  Two days after my due date, it was discovered that the protein levels in my urine were elevated.  Further blood tests indicated the beginning stages of pre-eclampsia.  The doctor wanted to induce and I had no problem with that.  However, after a very hard and very quick labor, Harry wasn’t doing so well.  He was having a lot of fetal distress and extraction with vacuum wasn’t working.  So I was given general anesthesia and an emergency c-section was performed.  Later that first day, the poor guy turned blue and was sent to the NICU.  He remained there the rest of our four day stay.  This gave me good reason to get out of bed and onto my feet sooner than I normally would have.  After all, I wanted to breastfeed and couldn’t do that from the other side of the hospital.

You’d never believe he had such troubles, looking at him today.  He’s the picture of health and has been since we brought him home.  It’s believed it was the rough start that caused the troubles rather than any other defect, which was a relief.  And he truly was the perfect baby and child.  Still is.  So naturally, we wanted to have another.  We started to try when Harry was a year old.  It was over a year later, when I was still not pregnant, that I finally went to see a specialist.  It was determined that I wasn’t ovulating and would need to take Clomid to conceive.  I had a hard time accepting that diagnosis.  It took another year before I returned to the specialist for further testing and to start the fertility drugs.  That was when I discovered I was “hypothyroid”.  Which basically means that after I had Harry, my hormones bumped my thyroid out of whack and now it performs much slower than before.  This affects many things including metabolism (hence my weight gain) and fertility.  So I began to be treated for that as well as taking the Clomid.  It took five rounds of the drugs to get pregnant.

Once again, I had a textbook pregnancy.  We found out we were having another little boy and were thrilled.  We were also buying our first house, which was being built from the ground up.  Very exciting times for us.  Jackson was due 4-4-04, but I would be having a repeat c-section on 3-29.  However, on 3-22, I started having labor pains.  The morning of 3-23, Jackson was born still.  You can read his story over here, if you wish.  Basically, it was a fluke thing.  A cord around the neck.  Nothing we could have done to stop it, no way we could have forseen it.  And oh, the pain.  The next nine months were a blur.  We moved into our new house, the only bright spot we had right then.  But I battled dark depression that came and went in waves.  It was hard to comprehend how this had happened to us, after everything we had already been through.  December of 2004 was the hardest, and that’s when I started this blog.  It was only then, that I started to see my way out of the fog.  And thank God for that.  We decided to try again with the Clomid, see where it took us.

This time it only took three cycles before I conceived.  I was a lot more nervous this time.  A pregnancy didn’t guarantee a baby.  But I was oh, so hopeful.   I held my breath until we saw the heartbeat at my 11 week appointment.  Then I felt like I could tell friends and family the news.  However, I spoke too soon.  I went back at 15 weeks in August of 2005 and it was revealed the baby’s heart had stopped beating the day after my last appointment.  I had a D&E to end the pregnancy.  After all, there’s no point without a live baby.  August was a rough month, or rather, would have been had we been sober.  There was a good deal of alcohol consumed that month.  Hardly a socially responsible response, but it worked for us.  And once September dawned, we felt better able to move on and move forward.  Kile wanted to try again right away so back to the doctor we went.

This time?  Pregnant on the first try.  If I thought I was nervous before, I was in for an education this time around.  After the first trimester, I rented a doppler to keep an eye on the wee fella.  I felt like I held my breath for the entire pregnancy.  Yet, it was again a textbook pregnancy.  I didn’t gain any weight, but after the previous pregnancies, we were used to that.  I had a scheduled c-section early, at 37 weeks exactly.  Liam was born on 7-7-06 at 2pm in the afternoon.  He weighed a mere 4lbs and 15oz, but came out crying up a storm.  No one could believe how tiny he was.  Tiny, yes, but definitely healthy.  In fact, Kile and I were both amazed when we were allowed to have him in our room there at the hospital.  No one came to take him away.  What a blessing that was.

That leads us up to now.  Both my boys are well, and growing.  They are my joys and I couldn’t imagine my life without them.  We hope to try for another some day, but for now, we’re enjoying each day we have together.

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