On Friday I helped give a baby shower. What is wrong with me? Don't ask. I usually have a hard time even GOING to baby showers. I felt like I should help with this one, that's all. I tried not to think about myself to much while I was putting things together and it kind of worked. (While she was opening presents, I had a little twinge of jealousy, especially when I held a pair of soft cotton newborn pajamas, printed with Noah's ark Animals "Two by two" it said. Well... okay, okay so that was not my only jealous moment. I had to buy a pair of size one diapers and use some of them for a game...they were so tiny and I pathetically pretended for just a small moment that I was taking them out of the package to change a little newborn bum.) But, overall, the baby shower went pretty well, so did trying not to think about myself.

On Saturday (the day after the baby shower) I was still feeling just fine. But, Heavenly Father knows what you need, when you need it...even if you don't know you need it. I had two experiences that touched me to know that I am loved and cared about. Heavenly Father cares about the questions I have in my mind. He also cares about me enough to prompt people to share their beautiful and personal experiences that will touch me in just a way and be an answer to my prayers. I wasn't even looking for these answers, in fact these were answers to a future prayer.

Tonight I started thinking that I had tried my very best to help the people that my Heavenly Father had put in my path...then, I started asking... "Well, when am I going to get someone to help me?...I need to be cared about too!"...then I remembered my answers.



Wow...This sounds like a lot of feeling sorry for myself. And this is supposed to be about optimism? I know... Well, as I said, I have learned so much.

President Gordon B. Hinckley was the "king" of optimism and he always inspired me to be a happy person. After trails and tribulations, it is hard to be a happy person. I always loved this quote by him. "In all your living, have much fun and laughter, life is to be enjoyed, not just endured." During my miscarraige and afterwards, I sometimes would think--How am I supposed to be happy after the pain of waiting for so long, there doesn't seem to be an end to the pain of watching other people become and be mothers. That is all I have ever wanted, isn't that what God's plan is for me anyway? I thought all of us women were supposed to hold motherhood as the highest calling. We are...and I believe that now I DO hold it as THE HIGHEST calling a women can EVER have.

In my last entry, I mentioned that while I was home, my mother took care of me. Despite all the things she was going through herself, she gave her attention to me. I learned a lot about the love of a mother while I was home.

It is so important to me, even so, MORE important than it ever has been to me. I believe that if I had not go through these things, even though I know the importance of Motherhood, I would not hold it in as high regard as I do now. Like I said before, I have learned SO MUCH from my experience. So, that is where the optimism comes in. The more I learn about God's plan, and my place in it...the happier I am...and through it all if I remember that someday...SOMEDAY...even if it's not today or tomorrow or even in this life, I will be a mother.

There are hard days and I will write about them, AND OH WILL WRITE ABOUT THEM! But there are good days to and I will NOT leave those out. And hopefully, there will be more good days than bad.

God's Timing

Today I have read at least 3 blogs that mentioned something about being pregnant or having a baby or how many friend(s) they had that were pregnant. I read a blog that someone actually complained about the fact that she was pregnant...COMPLAINED! Seriously...don't they know that there are people who would do just about almost anything to have a child? To be pregnant and actually stay that way? No matter how sick they were or if they were on bed rest the entire time? Really.

I know, it is soooo hard being pregnant, your sick, you look fat, you can't eat lunchmeat... Gosh that IS hard! I mean, I know...I was pregnant once. It was really hard...but it was harder to lose the pregnancy.

It was harder to lose the anticipation of finally being able to look in the mirror to see if maybe today I could see little belly forming. It was harder to lose the excitement of being able to call my husband "Dad", just for fun and to see the happy and proud look on his face. It was harder to lose the feeling of complete happiness and satisfaction, knowing that finally...finally, we were going to be filling that "void" in our lives.

I've actually been pregnant three times. Well, I think it was three...the doctors only record 2 of them, the other one was in 2007. I was starting to have thoughts that maybe I was pregnant, but then I had really, really heavy bleeding, with extremely heavy cramps and I was in bed all day...my periods are never like that. It was very similar to the 1st time I miscarried.

That was just a year earlier, in 2006. We thought I was possibly pregnant, so we went to Rite-Aid (on our 2nd wedding anniversary) and bought a pregnancy test. I took it and it was +! What a wonderful anniversary gift, we were so excited, what more could we ask for...we were both graduating in December. It was perfect timing...just how we planned it...it was just to good to be true, but it was! The next day however, I started bleeding heavily and cramping, I made a doctor's appt, went a few days later and found out that I had been pregnant, but had miscarried. My pregnancy levels were really low and so they did an ultrasound to see how everything was "inside" and then sent me home. Since we hadn't really been trying for that long (2 months) I was sad, but not devastated...and I was still optimistic. I don't really remember having any debates within myself over whether or not I had done something wrong.

We tried for another year, without really actually trying. It would happen when God wanted it to happen.

In July of this year we found out we were pregnant again. This time we told everyone after about 7 weeks. We went home to visit our families and told them all. It was so exciting. I got to be the pregnant center of attention. I got to go shopping for maternity clothes. Then, I miscarried at 9 weeks. I was still visiting my family. My hubby had to leave the day after to go back home and go back to work. My wonderful mom took care of me.

I was really sad. I had plans. Now they were changing...again.


The Condensed Version

Within the first two months that was off birth control, I got pregnant. That was in 2006.  We found out on our 2nd anniversary.

The next day, I started bleeding.
I went to the doctor, they did some tests and an ultrasound and then, he told me that I had started to miscarry.

Happy Anniversary.


A year later, in May of 2007. I had what at first I thought, was a really awful, awful period. When I put two and two together, I realized that I was having a miscarraige. I never took a test to see that I was pregnant. But I knew that I was pregnant. I felt the loss.  It was what one doctor called a "self-diagnosed" miscarraige.

This one hurt a little more than the first one. emotionally AND physically. This time, we were really trying.

I had a crazy job at the time. So, (like a few people who are by-standers in our journey want to do...) I contributed it to stress.

I went to the doctor again. This time I had a good doctor who explained in some detail some of the hormonal imbalances that it could possibly be. Why and what's. I felt a little silly having a man tell me all that I misunderstood about my own female body. But, I did understand a little but more. He gave me a Rx to have an insulin resistance test. On the paper he gave me it said "anovulation".

However, I still wasn't ready to start tests and treatment for baby making. I was certain that I could do the job myself (well, with a little help from my hubby :). I was pretty stubborn when it came to getting treatment. I still am, a little bit.

So, I didn't take the test.

After all, it had become, for me, an age old saying, "At least I know I can get pregnant."

...just not stay that way.


Fast forward to January 2008

That's when we moved to Ohio.

That's when we started the "real" treatment.

I went to the OBGYN and he did testing and poking and prodding and an awful thing called a uterine byopsy (scraping off a sample of the uterus...sounds fun huh?)

He diagnosed me with PCOS. (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome)

He put me on meds.

A week after he put me on Metformin, I woke up early in the morning and just felt* like I should take a pregnancy test. So I did. *Just a side note,, normally I don't just "feel" like taking pregnancy tests. I usually avoid them. They are the "one pink line" plague.

I had two pink lines.

I woke Connel up and told him I was pregnant. He was in disbelief. So was I.

That day, I kept having the worst pain in my right side. I kept worrying that I had a tubal pregnancy. I kept worrying about the Metformin that I had just started a week before (because you know that the Metformin is not what did the job, since I was obviously pregnant before I started it.)

The pain continued that entire day and I just kept getting more and more worried about it and taking the medicine. That night, we got home from a long day. I threw all the groceries on the floor and started sobbing. Why did I even have to worry about all this crap?!! Why can't I just be pregnant and happy like any normal person?!! I was crying because I was not in control, I didn't know that was going on with MY OWN BODY! Wah! Thinking about it even now makes me want to throw something!

I called the doctor. I went for a checkup, everything was fine, I was 4 weeks along. Still in the "don't tell a soul" zone. The pain in my side? A cyst had burst.

In August we moved to Missouri. We were so excited to finally use our extra bedroom for a nursery. I was excited to look at baby clothes and even went shopping for some maternity clothes.

In September we went to visit our families, I was 8 weeks pregnant. We told Connel's family, we told my family, and we told some close friends.

At nine weeks, I miscarried...again. I was still in Idaho, Connel had to leave the next day to be at work in Missouri.

It was a miserable couple of days. I had to spend a few hours in the emergency room, luckily I had my mother by my side. I really don't know what I would have done without her support those days that I didn't have Connel.

It was miserable telling all the people that I had just told a few days ago that I was NOT pregnant anymore. Blah. It made me feel sick inside. It still does.

When I came home from Idaho. I was okay. For a few days. Then it really started to hit me. I think I would have gone into depression if it weren't for my husband's backrubs and encouraging words, daily visits to the gym, my wonderful Father in Heaven who supported me on every hand, and of course, blogging.

On April 14, 2009, we found out that we were expecting a little miracle.
She will arrive the first part of December!