The weeks passed and we met with our doctor about doing an FET, which is basically the last half of an IVF cycle. The meds that you take to prepare yourself for it are different, but since they already have the embryos, you don’t have to do the retrieving of the eggs, just preparing your body for transferring the embryos back. These cycles take about a month from start to finish, and while the hormone medications aren’t as intense, they still do have an effect on your body, and you take the shots for a longer time than with the IVF cycle. I was very positive going into this FET. There was about a month from the time that we got our negative test results until I started the next. I felt as though I had given myself enough time to heal, although in retrospect I’m not sure if I did or not. I know I looked at it as if I wasn’t sure if I ever would feel fully healed from the negative cycle until I got a positive one. I could have waited months, and I may still have felt the effects of that last cycle burdening me. But I know I was excited to start again. I felt hopeful, I felt like my bad luck was behind me. Surely, I wouldn’t have two negative cycles in a row, so this one was bound to work.
It is pretty incredible how God brings people into your life just when you need them. I had a friend, my IVF friend, whom I had met through my sister, but she and her husband shared a similar experience to what we’d been through. She and I had reconnected in the fall and I let her know that we were getting ready to start another cycle, and surprisingly, she said they were going to be starting some frozen cycles soon too. She and I walked through so much of these cycles together. They were getting ready to start their first FET at the same time as we were. I still had the support of my friend from back when we cycled with Tessa. She and I e-mailed often and she would send me reminders that she was praying for me, just when I would need it. She had been through this, and lent her support. I also had my new IVF friend who was walking through this at the same time, so she and I offered each other a mutual kind of support. It’s amazing that how no matter what trial God chooses for us to walk through, He gives us what we need to survive it. And let me say, I have yet to mention my family as my support. They will get their own section. That’s still coming.
We started the cycle March 1, and our transfer was set for April 7. I was nervous, of course, but I was ready. I felt good about this cycle. These FET cycles were very different. I had to take less intense medications, in my opinion, but for a much longer period of time. The cycle felt like it was dragging on for forever. I just had a pretty constant feeling of, ick. It wasn’t severe pain or major awful feeling like I felt from the medicines during my IVF cycle, just kinda like a sick cloud looms over you, you never feel great, but never feel terrible either. Emotionally, there were quite a few highs and lows, that part of me never stayed the same. Thank you to my sweet David for putting up with me. As the transfer was drawing near, one of my friends who had been through IVF before said that she took home pregnancy tests after her transfer. She had started the day after and kept taking them until they turned positive. At this point in my life, I had never seen a positive home pregnancy test. I took them all the time during that year we were trying on our own, and I got so discouraged seeing negative after negative after negative, that even after I knew I was pregnant with Tessa, I never took one. I had such a phobia of them that I just figured I would jinx it somehow and it was turn up negative, so I never did. This time though, I decided I was going to.
So on April 7, we transferred two more embryos. I just knew this one had to work. The very next morning, I took a test, it was negative, as I knew it would be. Saturday morning I took one, negative again. But again, I knew it still should be negative at this point. Sunday was the first day that I was hoping it might turn positive, but it was still negative. Then I figured by Monday morning, it should be positive if it was going to turn positive, but it was still negative. I almost didn’t take one on Tuesday because I figured it should have already turned by now, but I did anyway because there were still some left in the box. My whole head turned fuzzy when I looked at the test and it said “pregnant.” I kept looking at it over and over, waiting for the “not” to show up in front of it, but it didn’t. I took a picture of it on my phone and texted it to David, who was already at work. About 20 seconds later he called me screaming. I just couldn’t believe it! I had never seen a positive home pregnancy test, and here it was, right here in front me. I was so elated that my hand shook as I held it. I called my mom and my sisters right away, and they were all so ecstatic. Our second miracle had come! Thank you Jesus! The next day, I took another one just to make sure the first wasn’t a fluke, and it turned positive faster than the day before. And I took another one the next day and it was even faster. Friday morning was my blood test. I practically skipped into the office. I told the nurse that I had cheated and took a home test that turned positive on Tuesday and the nurses congratulated me and told me we would probably expect to see high numbers, and we did. Then they tripled over the next 2 or 3 days, my family really thought I was having twins.
I was living in a dream world, I just couldn’t believe it. Every night, David and I laid hands on my stomach and prayed protection over our babies (we didn’t know if there were one or two at the time, so we prayed over them both). It was the most amazing miracle we had experienced since Tessa. My first ultrasound was scheduled for the day after Easter. Oh what a joyous Easter we had celebrating our risen Savior and the wonderful miracle He had given us. We kept telling Tessa that she was going to be a big sister, and my sister even made a couple really cute Big Sister shirts for her with her name on it and everything. My mom gave us an Easter basket for the baby with a boy and girl sleeper, and little brother/little sister onesie sets, and a pink and a blue pacifier. Could things get better? Not to mention that even though I wouldn’t get a due date until I went in for my ultrasound, I found an online due date calculator for FET cycles, which figures up a little differently than a normal pregnancy due date. The baby’s due date was my birthday, or right around then. Not only was it incredible that it was my birthday, but I was going to get a Christmas baby!! Having a birthday on December 21st has always been something I have loved. I love being a Christmas baby and I have always wanted to have a baby at Christmas time. This was it! I say it again, could it get any better?
Monday at lunch time was our ultrasound. David left work over his lunch break and met me at the doctor’s office. When the tech started doing the ultrasound, she wasn’t saying much, and I could see the ultrasound screen, and I wasn’t seeing anything. I knew that my now they would look for a gestational sac (or two), but it was taking her such a long time. My heart started racing. Then she started asking me questions about the cycle we did and when our transfer was and was my hcg blood test results were and how long ago that was. I knew something was wrong. She told me that she couldn’t find anything on the ultrasound and that she should be able to see the sac at this point. She said maybe it was too early, but she just wasn’t sure why it wasn’t visible. My heart is absolutely pounding at this point and once again, I feel the walls crumbling around me. When I came out of the room, the nurse said we were going to retest my blood to see what my hcg level was and that she was sorry, she knew this wasn’t what I wanted to hear today. Again, this was another big clue that this wasn’t going to end well. I was so scared when we left, but was trying to hold it together. All hope wasn’t lost yet. I prayed harder than I had even prayed in my life. I had to go to back to school for the afternoon, but my mind was totally somewhere else. I spent every spare second I had searching the internet for message boards or doctor websites, somewhere, someone to tell me that they had gone in for an ultrasound at 5 ½ weeks and didn’t see the sac but that their pregnancy turned out just fine. I found it, I found people that were in the same situation as me and had perfectly normal pregnancies, but I found a lot more people that didn’t have such good news. I prayed, and I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. I wanted the miracle. About a half hour before the end of the school day, the nurse called and said that she was sorry, but my hcg level had dropped down to 8, and that I was so stop all my medications, we had lost the baby. It was what I knew she was going to say, but hearing it out loud made it real. Once again, my loving teaching partner took my class for study hall and I went home. The dream had slipped through my fingers once more. This was now four babies I had lost in as many months.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
A Story of Miracles, Loss, Heartache & Hope: Our Journey Through IVF - Part 2
After we had Tessa, many people (who knew what we went through) assumed that we just weren’t going to have any more children; that we wouldn’t go through it again. I always knew I wanted to try again. It was never a question in my mind. Especially as an adult, I feel so blessed to have grown up with siblings, my two sisters, that I knew I wanted that for Tessa. I wanted her to have a sibling, a little brother or sister. It is really important to me. And while I know this sounds funny, but it seemed so easy to me the first time around with Tessa. Yes, we had to undergo fertility treatments, but it worked, and we didn’t have any complications. I just assumed that if we did it again, we would get the same results. I figured…I can do that again. That was really a piece of cake. What did I know?
So in the fall of 2010, we decided that we were ready to get the process rolling to try for another baby. We made an appointment and met with my doctor in November and after talking things through, we decided that we were going to try IVF this round. He still offers the IVM, it’s just that it’s no longer a clinical trial, it’s something we would have to pay for, the success rate is still about the same, but the cost is not a whole lot less than IVF, so we opted to go for what cost a little more, but was likely to have better results.
In January, we started our IVF cycle. The shots drove me crazy. I felt really sick them, and I had such terrible pain. I can remember wincing every time I would stand or sit or change position of any kind. I read in a book somewhere that when going through an IVF cycle, your ovaries go from the size of almonds to oranges. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but it sure felt like it. I can’t remember every feeling so physically miserable. The shots lasted about 2 weeks, and during that time, my estrogen levels got a little too high. One of the things that you have to worry about in IVF is ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS). I don’t know exactly what it is, but it has something to do with your ovaries getting too stimulated from the medication and it can cause your abdomen to fill with fluid. Often, cycles have to be cancelled because of it, and it can put you in the hospital, and if bad enough, I think it can be fatal. I was never diagnosed with OHSS, but my levels were close. To avoid excess fluid in my abdomen, I was instructed to not drink any water for about 3 weeks. I could only have sugared drinks, because those are processed by your body, rather than water, which sits in your belly (as I understand it). I thought that was going to be great, an excuse to drink soda and juice and lemonade all the time, but boy oh boy, it didn’t take more than a day or two and I craved water so desperately. It was miserable.
Then the time came for the retrieval. The night before the transfer, I had started panicking about the doctor getting and fertilizing too many eggs. I didn’t want to be left with a bunch frozen and have to face the issues of what to do with them if we got the number of children we wanted and still had embryos frozen. I had spoken to my doctor before the retrieval about my concerns and he said that while they were legitimate, there’s no guarantee. He had had a patience once that retrieved thirty eggs, but not even one fertilized. So we decided to go ahead and let him retrieve what he could get. The procedure went fine and we had gotten 13 eggs. I went back and forth between being very nervous about that many and feeling great that at least we were going to have great chances for success. Then we had the five day wait while our little embryos grew. By the time we came back on day 5 for the transfer, we had lost three of them, and we had 10 embryos left. The doctor kind of chuckled when he told us that we still had 10 left, telling us that our chances were quite good of getting a viable pregnancy out of these embryos.
On that day, January 31, he transferred 2 embryos, leaving us with 8 to be frozen. The next week went by so slowly. We spent every night praying over my stomach and begging God to let these two stick. I wanted those babies so badly. I had my due dates all figured out in my head as to what it would be if there was one and what it would likely be if we ended up with two. I was so excited to have a fall baby. I remember thinking that I would be really pregnant at the time of the Sandwich Fair and how much fun that would be. The stupidest things go through your mind. In the back of my mind, I was still a little panicked though. I kept thinking, what if this one works? What if we get one baby? What if we get two? We still have eight embryos frozen, what are we going to do? David and I have known from day one of when we cycled with Tessa that we would never dispose of any embryos because to us, they are our babies. They aren’t just a grouping of cells, they are the beginning stages of a child and it was our child. But what was I going to do with these eight left over? I started adding the numbers up in my head, if these two took, what if all the rest of them did too, that’s 11 kids, and that’s not for me. I know some people can do it, but I have no desire for my own TLC show about my massive number of children, so what were we going to do? I tried not to let it worry me, after all, God is in control and He knows my situation. But still, it angered me that I had to worry about this; that I had to worry about this kind of situation. It seemed so unfair. Not only does it feel like the rest of the world gets pregnant at the drop of a hat and for free, but I had to go through all of this just at an attempt at a baby, and it was most certainly not free, and you got no guarantee of a baby. Then on top of it, I have to deal with what to do with these frozen embryos. It just seemed like it was all piling up on me.
Well, a week later, I went in for my blood test before school, it was February 7, the day after David’s birthday. I was so nervous that morning that I could hardly breathe in the car as I drove in. I kept praying and asking God to give me peace, to help me calm down because I was so nervous. As I was rounding the corner about 5 minutes from my doctor’s office, I turned on the radio to try and distract my mind. The song that was playing was a song I had heard before, by Kerrie Roberts and it was called No Matter What. The chorus is the part that was playing when I turned on the radio and it goes:
No matter what, I’m gonna love You
No matter what, I’m gonna need You
I know that You can find a way to keep me from the pain
But if not, I’ll trust you
No matter what, no matter what
When I heard that chorus, it was like the Lord was preparing me. I had this feeling down in the pit of my stomach that I was hearing that song to let me know that it wasn’t going to be good news, but that no matter what I needed to praise Him. I got my blood drawn, and went to school for the day. I was nervous all day. I kept checking my patient portal, hoping I would see results early this time like I did last time, but nothing was coming up. It was in the afternoon that my phone rang and it was the nurse from the doctor’s office. She asked me how I was doing and I said, “good, I hope?” That’s when she said, “I’m sorry sweetie, but it’s not good news.” As much as from somewhere in the back of my mind, I was expecting it, it was still such a shock. She said that the good news was that we still had eight embryos frozen and that our doctor would like us to come in for a consultation to discuss doing a frozen embryo transfer (FET). So I numbly set up an appointment for a couple weeks from that day and hung up the phone. It was at point that I completely lost it. I went next door to my teaching partner’s room and she knew I was waiting for the results, and all she had to do was look at my face and she told me to go home and that she would cover my class for the rest of the day. In tears, I signed out of the office and ran from the building. I cried my entire way home. I was sick to my stomach. After all we had gone through, it didn’t work. I couldn’t comprehend it.
The rest of that day was pretty much a blur to me, I don’t remember much. I do remember that my brother in law stopped by and brought me a slice of fresh strawberry cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. He didn’t say a word, just smiled and dropped it off. It was what I needed, and for that, I thank him. My heart was totally broken. I had lost two babies. This wasn’t just an unsuccessful month of trying to get pregnant, these were my two babies that were with Jesus now. And just as they were in the arms of the Lord, so was I. There were times where I would be sitting on the couch or laying in my bed in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and I could feel His presence wrapped around me like a loving embrace. When I didn’t know what else to do, I could rest in His presence, because He was there protecting me and lifting me up. I spent so many countless hours, just holding Tessa and crying with her in my arms. While I mourned my loss, I was just so thankful that I had her. She kept me going.
So in the fall of 2010, we decided that we were ready to get the process rolling to try for another baby. We made an appointment and met with my doctor in November and after talking things through, we decided that we were going to try IVF this round. He still offers the IVM, it’s just that it’s no longer a clinical trial, it’s something we would have to pay for, the success rate is still about the same, but the cost is not a whole lot less than IVF, so we opted to go for what cost a little more, but was likely to have better results.
In January, we started our IVF cycle. The shots drove me crazy. I felt really sick them, and I had such terrible pain. I can remember wincing every time I would stand or sit or change position of any kind. I read in a book somewhere that when going through an IVF cycle, your ovaries go from the size of almonds to oranges. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but it sure felt like it. I can’t remember every feeling so physically miserable. The shots lasted about 2 weeks, and during that time, my estrogen levels got a little too high. One of the things that you have to worry about in IVF is ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS). I don’t know exactly what it is, but it has something to do with your ovaries getting too stimulated from the medication and it can cause your abdomen to fill with fluid. Often, cycles have to be cancelled because of it, and it can put you in the hospital, and if bad enough, I think it can be fatal. I was never diagnosed with OHSS, but my levels were close. To avoid excess fluid in my abdomen, I was instructed to not drink any water for about 3 weeks. I could only have sugared drinks, because those are processed by your body, rather than water, which sits in your belly (as I understand it). I thought that was going to be great, an excuse to drink soda and juice and lemonade all the time, but boy oh boy, it didn’t take more than a day or two and I craved water so desperately. It was miserable.
Then the time came for the retrieval. The night before the transfer, I had started panicking about the doctor getting and fertilizing too many eggs. I didn’t want to be left with a bunch frozen and have to face the issues of what to do with them if we got the number of children we wanted and still had embryos frozen. I had spoken to my doctor before the retrieval about my concerns and he said that while they were legitimate, there’s no guarantee. He had had a patience once that retrieved thirty eggs, but not even one fertilized. So we decided to go ahead and let him retrieve what he could get. The procedure went fine and we had gotten 13 eggs. I went back and forth between being very nervous about that many and feeling great that at least we were going to have great chances for success. Then we had the five day wait while our little embryos grew. By the time we came back on day 5 for the transfer, we had lost three of them, and we had 10 embryos left. The doctor kind of chuckled when he told us that we still had 10 left, telling us that our chances were quite good of getting a viable pregnancy out of these embryos.
On that day, January 31, he transferred 2 embryos, leaving us with 8 to be frozen. The next week went by so slowly. We spent every night praying over my stomach and begging God to let these two stick. I wanted those babies so badly. I had my due dates all figured out in my head as to what it would be if there was one and what it would likely be if we ended up with two. I was so excited to have a fall baby. I remember thinking that I would be really pregnant at the time of the Sandwich Fair and how much fun that would be. The stupidest things go through your mind. In the back of my mind, I was still a little panicked though. I kept thinking, what if this one works? What if we get one baby? What if we get two? We still have eight embryos frozen, what are we going to do? David and I have known from day one of when we cycled with Tessa that we would never dispose of any embryos because to us, they are our babies. They aren’t just a grouping of cells, they are the beginning stages of a child and it was our child. But what was I going to do with these eight left over? I started adding the numbers up in my head, if these two took, what if all the rest of them did too, that’s 11 kids, and that’s not for me. I know some people can do it, but I have no desire for my own TLC show about my massive number of children, so what were we going to do? I tried not to let it worry me, after all, God is in control and He knows my situation. But still, it angered me that I had to worry about this; that I had to worry about this kind of situation. It seemed so unfair. Not only does it feel like the rest of the world gets pregnant at the drop of a hat and for free, but I had to go through all of this just at an attempt at a baby, and it was most certainly not free, and you got no guarantee of a baby. Then on top of it, I have to deal with what to do with these frozen embryos. It just seemed like it was all piling up on me.
Well, a week later, I went in for my blood test before school, it was February 7, the day after David’s birthday. I was so nervous that morning that I could hardly breathe in the car as I drove in. I kept praying and asking God to give me peace, to help me calm down because I was so nervous. As I was rounding the corner about 5 minutes from my doctor’s office, I turned on the radio to try and distract my mind. The song that was playing was a song I had heard before, by Kerrie Roberts and it was called No Matter What. The chorus is the part that was playing when I turned on the radio and it goes:
No matter what, I’m gonna love You
No matter what, I’m gonna need You
I know that You can find a way to keep me from the pain
But if not, I’ll trust you
No matter what, no matter what
When I heard that chorus, it was like the Lord was preparing me. I had this feeling down in the pit of my stomach that I was hearing that song to let me know that it wasn’t going to be good news, but that no matter what I needed to praise Him. I got my blood drawn, and went to school for the day. I was nervous all day. I kept checking my patient portal, hoping I would see results early this time like I did last time, but nothing was coming up. It was in the afternoon that my phone rang and it was the nurse from the doctor’s office. She asked me how I was doing and I said, “good, I hope?” That’s when she said, “I’m sorry sweetie, but it’s not good news.” As much as from somewhere in the back of my mind, I was expecting it, it was still such a shock. She said that the good news was that we still had eight embryos frozen and that our doctor would like us to come in for a consultation to discuss doing a frozen embryo transfer (FET). So I numbly set up an appointment for a couple weeks from that day and hung up the phone. It was at point that I completely lost it. I went next door to my teaching partner’s room and she knew I was waiting for the results, and all she had to do was look at my face and she told me to go home and that she would cover my class for the rest of the day. In tears, I signed out of the office and ran from the building. I cried my entire way home. I was sick to my stomach. After all we had gone through, it didn’t work. I couldn’t comprehend it.
The rest of that day was pretty much a blur to me, I don’t remember much. I do remember that my brother in law stopped by and brought me a slice of fresh strawberry cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. He didn’t say a word, just smiled and dropped it off. It was what I needed, and for that, I thank him. My heart was totally broken. I had lost two babies. This wasn’t just an unsuccessful month of trying to get pregnant, these were my two babies that were with Jesus now. And just as they were in the arms of the Lord, so was I. There were times where I would be sitting on the couch or laying in my bed in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and I could feel His presence wrapped around me like a loving embrace. When I didn’t know what else to do, I could rest in His presence, because He was there protecting me and lifting me up. I spent so many countless hours, just holding Tessa and crying with her in my arms. While I mourned my loss, I was just so thankful that I had her. She kept me going.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
A Story of Miracles, Loss, Heartache and Hope: Our Journey Through IVF - Part 1
I read an article a few weeks ago about women that deal with infertility and how many of them suffer in silence. This happens often because they are embarrassed or ashamed to talk about what they are going through or don’t know who to talk to about it. This really bothers me. For a long while now, it’s been on my heart to share my story, but I haven’t really known the right way to do it or felt a strong direction about it. In the last couple weeks, it has been made clear to me. I want to tell my story. I want it to be an encouragement to someone who needs it or to someone who knows someone who needs it. There is very little that I understand about why we have had to go through what we have been through, but one thing I know for sure is that I am meant to be there to help someone else just as others have been there for me. This is our story.
This last year has been one of the most painful times that I have ever experienced. I never imagined a year ago that I would be where I am today. Before I get too much into our crazy 2011, let me do a little background information for those who don’t know our story from the beginning. David and I got married young, we were only 20. We had been married for a little over three years when we decided that we wanted to have a baby. It seemed so simple. You never imagine things not working out the way you dreamed them. Well, 9 months later…still no baby. I cried every month that the test showed negative. I read all the books and websites I could find. We took the vitamins and supplements that were supposed to help. I started seeing a chiropractor regularly because I figured that would help. Nothing made a difference.
In May, I went in to see my doctor for my regular exam, and she started asking questions and I just started crying. I was so frustrated and discouraged; I didn’t understand why we still didn’t have a baby. She said we would start some testing on David and I. At the end of June we received the phone call that turned our lives upside down, letting us know that things weren’t right and we needed to see a specialist. I can remember being in so much shock that I didn’t really have words. It was my worst fears becoming reality. We had dinner plans that evening with my parents, and I can just remember sitting there through dinner, hardly talking. There was so much to process, so much I didn’t understand, and this intense feeling of all of my dreams slipping out of my hands. It still takes my breath away to think about that day. I remember where in our apartment I was standing as I talked to the nurse from the doctor’s office on the phone, and I can remember exactly what she said to me and that she said it in the most chipper tone. I remember thinking, really? Do you really have to sound that happy? Do you not realize that what you just told me changed my life forever? God really had his hand in our situation, because, in July, the night before our first doctor appointment, an old friend of our family happened to be in town and wanted to come and visit. I hadn’t seen her for years, but as it turned out, she had been through IVF with both of her pregnancies and as she sat there and talked to and cried with me, I knew I had found my support. Granted, my family was the biggest support I could ask for, but I was desperately needing someone who had been through it, who could talk to me and help me understand what was going on. It was divine intervention.
The next day we met with a doctor, and the following week another one, both recommended by friends, and there was one we just really felt comfortable with. He told us that in vitro fertilization (IVF) was going to be our only option to have a baby. I knew of some other friends that had tried less invasive treatments first, but our doctor informed us that it wouldn’t be worth our time, it wouldn’t work. I knew this was what we would have to do. We looked into our insurance coverage and lo and behold, it didn’t cover any of it. It covered the diagnostic part, so they would pay for it up to the part where they tell you that you’re broken, but didn’t pay to fix it. IVF was expensive, around $15,000 expensive.
We weren’t sure what we were going to do. My doctor offered us another option. He wasn’t sure if I would qualify, but he was conducting a clinical study of a type of in vitro called IVM, in vitro maturation. In IVF, a woman would be given injectable hormones to bring multiple eggs to maturity at one time. The eggs are then retrieved then fertilized in the lab. After 5 days, one or two are transferred back to your uterus in hopes that they would find a spot to stay and grow into a healthy baby. IVM is a little different. With IVM, most of your eggs are harvest immaturely, along with the one mature egg your body naturally produces, then in the lab, they are given the maturing drugs, then fertilized and transferred back. Only certain patients, based on age and fertility diagnosis could participate in the trial.
In August, we were set to take a family vacation to Destin, FL. It was while we were there that I got the call from him that we would qualify for the trial if we wanted to do it, the best part was that because it was a trial, it was free. We thought and prayed about it, and decided, YES! This was for us! We knew the chances for success were lower than IVF, our doctor was hoping for 2 out 5 successful pregnancies, whereas with IVF, you get about a 50-60% chance for success. We figured, why not? Let’s give it a try, and if it doesn’t work, we can always do IVF next. Before we left Florida, we decided that we wanted to buy something for our little one that we knew we were going to have in our lives. David and I found this little yellow onesie that said some obnoxious little phrase about vacationing in Destin. Then my mom surprised me with two little onesies that both had a pink and blue dolphin on them, because she really thought we might end up with twins. When we got home, I put those little reminders in my top dresser drawer, and every time I opened it, I prayed for that little baby that I just knew we were going to have. (I still have those onesies, they’re still in the top dresser drawer, not mine, but of my daughter’s.)
In August of 2008, we started our IVM cycle. The cycle was pretty easy to begin with, just office visits where I would get blood drawn and do an ultrasound, nothing major. I didn’t have to have any of the super-ovulatory drugs that made me feel sick and miserable, like I had read about in many books. I only had to take one shot before my retrieval, and thankfully, we were living with my parents at the time, and with my mom being a nurse, I didn’t have to do it myself. We went in 36 hours later for our retrieval. We had to go to the surgery center which was downtown Chicago. My aunt drove David, my mom and I to the city. I was pretty miserable after the retrieval, that one you have to be put under for. I didn’t expect the pain that followed it, but a couple days on the couch and I was feeling better. The doctor was able to retrieve one mature egg and several immature ones. He called me every other day, letting me know how the embryos were doing and how many were still surviving. We knew that he would transfer up to three embryos. In an IVF cycle, for someone my age, he would never do more than 2, but because this had a much lower chance for success, he would transfer 3, if we had them. The transfer was on Tuesday, and by Friday, we had three left. He said they all looked good. I was feeling great. Then he called Saturday and said that we may be moving the transfer up from Monday to Sunday. Two of the embryos were starting to fracture, and he wanted to try and transfer before it was too late. Then Sunday he called again and said one did fracture completely, but the other stopped fracturing and looked it was going to be viable, so we were still waiting for Monday because the 5 day transfer gives the embryos the best chance for survival. Monday morning, David, my mom and I trucked back up to the surgery center in Chicago to have my little babies put back inside where they belonged. After they were put back in, he gave me an ultrasound picture. Of course, you couldn’t see the embryos, they were far too small, but you could see little air bubbles from where he transferred them. I held onto that picture so tightly. We prayed over those babies every night and what seemed like most waking moments of the day. I took several days off work to stay home and rest, and keep my feet up (even though the doctor said it was fine to resume normal activity, I just felt better about it.)
A ridiculously nervewracking week later, on Monday, September 15th, I went in for my blood test in the morning. The blood test measures your hcg level, and anything about 5 or 10 is considered a positive test, but most numbers are about 40 or 50 at this point. I waited all day for the callback from the nurse, between 1 and 4 pm. I kept checking my patient portal online, because sometimes test results were posted before the nurse got a chance to call. At 1:30, I checked it again, and saw that my results were in. I remember feeling like my heart was going to pound out of my chest. I clicked on the results and it said 58.9. I was pretty sure I knew what that meant, but wanted to be certain. I looked up on a few websites, and after I was sure, I went next door to my teaching partner (who was also anxiously awaiting the news) and said, “my hcg is 58.9, I think that means I’m pregnant.” She screamed, I was still in shock. I waited for the official phone call from the nurse that afternoon and she confirmed it. My dreams were back within my grasp. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to tell my family over the phone, even though they knew I was getting results back, so I was mean, and told them the nurse called and said the results were inconclusive and I would have to retest in a couple days. On my way home, I stopped at Target and bought some cute little onesie that said something about Daddy on it, and took it home for David. We all rejoiced! It was incredible! Of course, every weird feeling or pain or ache made me terrified. I just was so afraid that after all we’d gone through, it was going to be taken away from me.
I loved being pregnant. Yes, I was sick, really sick in the first trimester. I think it had something to do with the fact that I had a double dose of hormones taking over my body, some that my body produced naturally and some that I was giving myself through injection, but it was incredible, the best time of my life. I first felt her move on December 14; it was the most amazing feeling, to know that life is stirring about within you. At Christmastime we found out that my sister was expecting also, so it was really special to get to experience it with her. On January 3 we found out we were having a girl! I was so nervous during the ultrasound to find out the gender of our little bundle. Then we celebrated with lunch out and a trip to Carters to buy far too many pink and purple outfits! In February, we bought our townhouse and moved in, with just a few months left to go. My favorite room to decorate was hers. I would sit in her room rocking in the chair every night just dreaming of what it would be like for my girl to be here and to put her to bed in her room every night. We got to do some really neat things during my pregnancy. Because of the clinical study that we underwent to have her, she was a pretty special baby. Our doctor was in the news several times because of his success in this clinical trial. We were interviewed and put on the WGN and ABC7 news where we were able to share bits of our story. Our doctor also did a live interview on the CBS Early Show. It was a really neat experience to be a part of, and we are so thankful that we chose to give the IVM a try, because we got such an incredible result from it.
On May 27, 2009, a day after her due date, Tessa Charlotte arrived in all her glory; all 9 pounds, 7 ounces of her. She has been the joy of my life every day since. Every morning, I wake up, look at her beautiful face and I just can’t believe how blessed we are to have her. I just can’t believe that she is mine and I get to spend every day being her mom. She’s 2 ½ now, and while she challenges us daily, she’s the best thing that ever happened to us. I love her with every ounce of my being. She is my whole world.
This last year has been one of the most painful times that I have ever experienced. I never imagined a year ago that I would be where I am today. Before I get too much into our crazy 2011, let me do a little background information for those who don’t know our story from the beginning. David and I got married young, we were only 20. We had been married for a little over three years when we decided that we wanted to have a baby. It seemed so simple. You never imagine things not working out the way you dreamed them. Well, 9 months later…still no baby. I cried every month that the test showed negative. I read all the books and websites I could find. We took the vitamins and supplements that were supposed to help. I started seeing a chiropractor regularly because I figured that would help. Nothing made a difference.
In May, I went in to see my doctor for my regular exam, and she started asking questions and I just started crying. I was so frustrated and discouraged; I didn’t understand why we still didn’t have a baby. She said we would start some testing on David and I. At the end of June we received the phone call that turned our lives upside down, letting us know that things weren’t right and we needed to see a specialist. I can remember being in so much shock that I didn’t really have words. It was my worst fears becoming reality. We had dinner plans that evening with my parents, and I can just remember sitting there through dinner, hardly talking. There was so much to process, so much I didn’t understand, and this intense feeling of all of my dreams slipping out of my hands. It still takes my breath away to think about that day. I remember where in our apartment I was standing as I talked to the nurse from the doctor’s office on the phone, and I can remember exactly what she said to me and that she said it in the most chipper tone. I remember thinking, really? Do you really have to sound that happy? Do you not realize that what you just told me changed my life forever? God really had his hand in our situation, because, in July, the night before our first doctor appointment, an old friend of our family happened to be in town and wanted to come and visit. I hadn’t seen her for years, but as it turned out, she had been through IVF with both of her pregnancies and as she sat there and talked to and cried with me, I knew I had found my support. Granted, my family was the biggest support I could ask for, but I was desperately needing someone who had been through it, who could talk to me and help me understand what was going on. It was divine intervention.
The next day we met with a doctor, and the following week another one, both recommended by friends, and there was one we just really felt comfortable with. He told us that in vitro fertilization (IVF) was going to be our only option to have a baby. I knew of some other friends that had tried less invasive treatments first, but our doctor informed us that it wouldn’t be worth our time, it wouldn’t work. I knew this was what we would have to do. We looked into our insurance coverage and lo and behold, it didn’t cover any of it. It covered the diagnostic part, so they would pay for it up to the part where they tell you that you’re broken, but didn’t pay to fix it. IVF was expensive, around $15,000 expensive.
We weren’t sure what we were going to do. My doctor offered us another option. He wasn’t sure if I would qualify, but he was conducting a clinical study of a type of in vitro called IVM, in vitro maturation. In IVF, a woman would be given injectable hormones to bring multiple eggs to maturity at one time. The eggs are then retrieved then fertilized in the lab. After 5 days, one or two are transferred back to your uterus in hopes that they would find a spot to stay and grow into a healthy baby. IVM is a little different. With IVM, most of your eggs are harvest immaturely, along with the one mature egg your body naturally produces, then in the lab, they are given the maturing drugs, then fertilized and transferred back. Only certain patients, based on age and fertility diagnosis could participate in the trial.
In August, we were set to take a family vacation to Destin, FL. It was while we were there that I got the call from him that we would qualify for the trial if we wanted to do it, the best part was that because it was a trial, it was free. We thought and prayed about it, and decided, YES! This was for us! We knew the chances for success were lower than IVF, our doctor was hoping for 2 out 5 successful pregnancies, whereas with IVF, you get about a 50-60% chance for success. We figured, why not? Let’s give it a try, and if it doesn’t work, we can always do IVF next. Before we left Florida, we decided that we wanted to buy something for our little one that we knew we were going to have in our lives. David and I found this little yellow onesie that said some obnoxious little phrase about vacationing in Destin. Then my mom surprised me with two little onesies that both had a pink and blue dolphin on them, because she really thought we might end up with twins. When we got home, I put those little reminders in my top dresser drawer, and every time I opened it, I prayed for that little baby that I just knew we were going to have. (I still have those onesies, they’re still in the top dresser drawer, not mine, but of my daughter’s.)
In August of 2008, we started our IVM cycle. The cycle was pretty easy to begin with, just office visits where I would get blood drawn and do an ultrasound, nothing major. I didn’t have to have any of the super-ovulatory drugs that made me feel sick and miserable, like I had read about in many books. I only had to take one shot before my retrieval, and thankfully, we were living with my parents at the time, and with my mom being a nurse, I didn’t have to do it myself. We went in 36 hours later for our retrieval. We had to go to the surgery center which was downtown Chicago. My aunt drove David, my mom and I to the city. I was pretty miserable after the retrieval, that one you have to be put under for. I didn’t expect the pain that followed it, but a couple days on the couch and I was feeling better. The doctor was able to retrieve one mature egg and several immature ones. He called me every other day, letting me know how the embryos were doing and how many were still surviving. We knew that he would transfer up to three embryos. In an IVF cycle, for someone my age, he would never do more than 2, but because this had a much lower chance for success, he would transfer 3, if we had them. The transfer was on Tuesday, and by Friday, we had three left. He said they all looked good. I was feeling great. Then he called Saturday and said that we may be moving the transfer up from Monday to Sunday. Two of the embryos were starting to fracture, and he wanted to try and transfer before it was too late. Then Sunday he called again and said one did fracture completely, but the other stopped fracturing and looked it was going to be viable, so we were still waiting for Monday because the 5 day transfer gives the embryos the best chance for survival. Monday morning, David, my mom and I trucked back up to the surgery center in Chicago to have my little babies put back inside where they belonged. After they were put back in, he gave me an ultrasound picture. Of course, you couldn’t see the embryos, they were far too small, but you could see little air bubbles from where he transferred them. I held onto that picture so tightly. We prayed over those babies every night and what seemed like most waking moments of the day. I took several days off work to stay home and rest, and keep my feet up (even though the doctor said it was fine to resume normal activity, I just felt better about it.)
A ridiculously nervewracking week later, on Monday, September 15th, I went in for my blood test in the morning. The blood test measures your hcg level, and anything about 5 or 10 is considered a positive test, but most numbers are about 40 or 50 at this point. I waited all day for the callback from the nurse, between 1 and 4 pm. I kept checking my patient portal online, because sometimes test results were posted before the nurse got a chance to call. At 1:30, I checked it again, and saw that my results were in. I remember feeling like my heart was going to pound out of my chest. I clicked on the results and it said 58.9. I was pretty sure I knew what that meant, but wanted to be certain. I looked up on a few websites, and after I was sure, I went next door to my teaching partner (who was also anxiously awaiting the news) and said, “my hcg is 58.9, I think that means I’m pregnant.” She screamed, I was still in shock. I waited for the official phone call from the nurse that afternoon and she confirmed it. My dreams were back within my grasp. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to tell my family over the phone, even though they knew I was getting results back, so I was mean, and told them the nurse called and said the results were inconclusive and I would have to retest in a couple days. On my way home, I stopped at Target and bought some cute little onesie that said something about Daddy on it, and took it home for David. We all rejoiced! It was incredible! Of course, every weird feeling or pain or ache made me terrified. I just was so afraid that after all we’d gone through, it was going to be taken away from me.
I loved being pregnant. Yes, I was sick, really sick in the first trimester. I think it had something to do with the fact that I had a double dose of hormones taking over my body, some that my body produced naturally and some that I was giving myself through injection, but it was incredible, the best time of my life. I first felt her move on December 14; it was the most amazing feeling, to know that life is stirring about within you. At Christmastime we found out that my sister was expecting also, so it was really special to get to experience it with her. On January 3 we found out we were having a girl! I was so nervous during the ultrasound to find out the gender of our little bundle. Then we celebrated with lunch out and a trip to Carters to buy far too many pink and purple outfits! In February, we bought our townhouse and moved in, with just a few months left to go. My favorite room to decorate was hers. I would sit in her room rocking in the chair every night just dreaming of what it would be like for my girl to be here and to put her to bed in her room every night. We got to do some really neat things during my pregnancy. Because of the clinical study that we underwent to have her, she was a pretty special baby. Our doctor was in the news several times because of his success in this clinical trial. We were interviewed and put on the WGN and ABC7 news where we were able to share bits of our story. Our doctor also did a live interview on the CBS Early Show. It was a really neat experience to be a part of, and we are so thankful that we chose to give the IVM a try, because we got such an incredible result from it.
On May 27, 2009, a day after her due date, Tessa Charlotte arrived in all her glory; all 9 pounds, 7 ounces of her. She has been the joy of my life every day since. Every morning, I wake up, look at her beautiful face and I just can’t believe how blessed we are to have her. I just can’t believe that she is mine and I get to spend every day being her mom. She’s 2 ½ now, and while she challenges us daily, she’s the best thing that ever happened to us. I love her with every ounce of my being. She is my whole world.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Tessa's antics (I mean helpfulness)
Tessa likes to help, I'll give her credit for that. Not so much helping with the things I would like for her to help with, like picking up toys, but she does like to help.
She likes to help me do laundry. Now, I know it sounds bad, but I often try and do laundry when she's sleeping or busy doing something else. Considering she hasn't taken a nap for the last few days, I've had to try to distract her. The reason why I distract her is because folding laundry is a never-ending process when she is "helping." She takes all the laundry that I've already folded and tries to re-fold it, then when she can't do it, she just gets frustrated and throws herself into the piles of clothes and ends up laughing and rolling around in it. So yes, folding laundry is near impossible with my helper. She does, however, make herself very useful in putting the laundry in the washing machine. I often give her the laundry basket and tell her to put a certain pile of clothes into the basket...she does that almost perfectly every time. Then we scoot the laundry basket over to the washing machine and she does really well to toss it into the machine. She can't see exactly what she's doing, but really does well. THAT is actually helpful. She also enjoys putting wet clothes into the dryer. I hand her the ones from the washer and she puts them into the dryer. I often find her in the dryer herself, but that's usually (not always) after the clothes are dry. This week, I have had a pile of clean clothes in my laundry basket that I attempted to fold numerous times, but each time was unsuccessful as Tessa has not been napping for me, and I haven't gotten much of a break. Last night, she wanted to "push the button" (on the machines) so she proceeded to fill my washing machine up with mostly clean clothes from the basket, then she started to refill up the laundry basket with dirty ones she found around the room. So now my basket is half clean, half dirty with a washing machine full of clean (dry) clothes. This is what my laundry looked like to start off today. I actually had her busy watching a movie, so I started to work on sorting. I'm trying to figure out which clothes in the basket are dirty and which are clean. Now, they've been mixed together all night, so I figured, I'd probably have to rewash them anyway. I notice as I'm going through the basket and smelling the clothes that they have a bit of a funny odor, not dirty or sweaty or like deodorant, as if they've been worn, just odd. But I kept going. Then, as I reached the bottom of the basket, I found the culprit. A wet diaper. Yep, that was the smell I was smelling. Tessa picked it up with everything else last night when she was filling the basket and tossed it in. So now it's official, I really do have to rewash everything.
She also likes to help me load and unload the dishwasher. I like to give her the silverware container and let her sort the forks, knives and spoons into their correct spot in the drawer. She actually does pretty good, and again, very helpful for me. Plus, I think it's a good skill for her to sort by shapes. This morning, I was loading the dishwasher, and here she comes, "Mommy, what you doing?" "I'm loading the dishwasher, Tessa." "Tessa do it!" So I started handing her glasses and plates and silverware, showing her where to put them. I love that she wants to help. Then, in trying to reach up on the top level, she climbs up onto the door of the dishwasher which is laying out flat. I hear a "crack!" That's where I took her off and finished the job myself. I haven't run it yet, so I'm hoping she caused no major damage. It closed okay when I was done, so hopefully, it's not broken. She also helps me wash the dishes with water. When I was upstairs this morning (folding laundry) I went down to check on her, which I do periodically when she's by herself downstairs, and I heard water running. I went into the kitchen to see that she has pulled a chair up to the sink, has the water running and my scrub brush in her hand rubbing the dishes (this was before we loaded the dishwasher). The counter was soaked, as were the cabinets up above, as were all my picture frames behind the sink, but yes, she was helping, and I am thankful for that.
My last Tessa anecdote for the morning, we were both downstairs after we had cleaned up all her toys, and I was going to sit down to work on hats. Our conversation went like this:
Tessa: Mommy, upstairs.
Me: You want me to go upstairs?
Tessa: Yes, upstairs.
Me: Why? Are you going to do something you don't want me to see?
Tessa: Yes.
I love the brutal honesty my daughter gives me. She's the best.
She likes to help me do laundry. Now, I know it sounds bad, but I often try and do laundry when she's sleeping or busy doing something else. Considering she hasn't taken a nap for the last few days, I've had to try to distract her. The reason why I distract her is because folding laundry is a never-ending process when she is "helping." She takes all the laundry that I've already folded and tries to re-fold it, then when she can't do it, she just gets frustrated and throws herself into the piles of clothes and ends up laughing and rolling around in it. So yes, folding laundry is near impossible with my helper. She does, however, make herself very useful in putting the laundry in the washing machine. I often give her the laundry basket and tell her to put a certain pile of clothes into the basket...she does that almost perfectly every time. Then we scoot the laundry basket over to the washing machine and she does really well to toss it into the machine. She can't see exactly what she's doing, but really does well. THAT is actually helpful. She also enjoys putting wet clothes into the dryer. I hand her the ones from the washer and she puts them into the dryer. I often find her in the dryer herself, but that's usually (not always) after the clothes are dry. This week, I have had a pile of clean clothes in my laundry basket that I attempted to fold numerous times, but each time was unsuccessful as Tessa has not been napping for me, and I haven't gotten much of a break. Last night, she wanted to "push the button" (on the machines) so she proceeded to fill my washing machine up with mostly clean clothes from the basket, then she started to refill up the laundry basket with dirty ones she found around the room. So now my basket is half clean, half dirty with a washing machine full of clean (dry) clothes. This is what my laundry looked like to start off today. I actually had her busy watching a movie, so I started to work on sorting. I'm trying to figure out which clothes in the basket are dirty and which are clean. Now, they've been mixed together all night, so I figured, I'd probably have to rewash them anyway. I notice as I'm going through the basket and smelling the clothes that they have a bit of a funny odor, not dirty or sweaty or like deodorant, as if they've been worn, just odd. But I kept going. Then, as I reached the bottom of the basket, I found the culprit. A wet diaper. Yep, that was the smell I was smelling. Tessa picked it up with everything else last night when she was filling the basket and tossed it in. So now it's official, I really do have to rewash everything.
She also likes to help me load and unload the dishwasher. I like to give her the silverware container and let her sort the forks, knives and spoons into their correct spot in the drawer. She actually does pretty good, and again, very helpful for me. Plus, I think it's a good skill for her to sort by shapes. This morning, I was loading the dishwasher, and here she comes, "Mommy, what you doing?" "I'm loading the dishwasher, Tessa." "Tessa do it!" So I started handing her glasses and plates and silverware, showing her where to put them. I love that she wants to help. Then, in trying to reach up on the top level, she climbs up onto the door of the dishwasher which is laying out flat. I hear a "crack!" That's where I took her off and finished the job myself. I haven't run it yet, so I'm hoping she caused no major damage. It closed okay when I was done, so hopefully, it's not broken. She also helps me wash the dishes with water. When I was upstairs this morning (folding laundry) I went down to check on her, which I do periodically when she's by herself downstairs, and I heard water running. I went into the kitchen to see that she has pulled a chair up to the sink, has the water running and my scrub brush in her hand rubbing the dishes (this was before we loaded the dishwasher). The counter was soaked, as were the cabinets up above, as were all my picture frames behind the sink, but yes, she was helping, and I am thankful for that.
My last Tessa anecdote for the morning, we were both downstairs after we had cleaned up all her toys, and I was going to sit down to work on hats. Our conversation went like this:
Tessa: Mommy, upstairs.
Me: You want me to go upstairs?
Tessa: Yes, upstairs.
Me: Why? Are you going to do something you don't want me to see?
Tessa: Yes.
I love the brutal honesty my daughter gives me. She's the best.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Cake time on a beautiful February day
David's birthday is on Monday, but I am having a party for him this Saturday. It's the first birthday party I have thrown for him in our 7 years of marriage and 10 years together. Not that we don't celebrate his birthday, because we do, I just don't do parties. This year, I decided to. The party is Saturday, but since I'm busy the next two days, I figured I would make and decorate it today. This is what I came up with. 
Monday, January 30, 2012
"Oh no! It's Mommy!"
This phrase, I have heard twice over the last two days from my 2 year old. It always seems to surface when I catch her doing something she's not supposed to be doing.
The first was last night. I had put her in bed, and we did our normal bedtime routine. Read the book, pray, tuck in with butterfly blanket, turn on her sounds, new music, and light buggin. Translation...sounds is her sound machine that I have had for her for a long time, it's basically white noise. That turns on at bedtime and stays on all night. New music is the Praise Baby Bedtime Lullibies cd that Magee (my mom, Grandma Vicki) bought her a few weeks ago. It's no longer new, but to Tessa, it's still her, new music. That goes on at bedtime, and plays until it's done, about 45 minutes later. Light buggin is her ladybug that lights up and projects stars and the moon on her ceiling. It can go in three different colors, she got it from Nana and Papa for Christmas and loves it. However, she is not allowed to remove her light buggin from her dresser at night, if she does, Mommy takes it away, and she knows this. She's lost it many a times. I love going in there when she's taken it into bed, (I can see through my video baby monitor) because as soon as I open the door, she usually throws it to the floor and says, "Here Mommy!" As if to say, I don't know how this thing ended up in my bed, but I know I'm not supposed to have it. She cracks e up. Well, last night, I saw through the monitor that she had light buggin in her bed, so I went to go get it, I opened the door, and I hear, "Oh no! It's Mommy!" She throws light buggin to the floor and lays real still in her bed. She got busted!
Then this morning, she got busted again. We were downstairs, I was working on hats and she was busy playing with her toys. She wandered into the kitchen, and I realized that I hadn't heard her say anything for a few minutes, which in Tessa-land, usually means trouble. So I got up from the couch, and turned the corner to walk into the kitchen. There she was, in the refrigerator, she spotted me and again I hear, "Oh no! It's Mommy!" and the tub of I Can't Believe it's Not Butter goes flying. I reminded her that we don't eat butter from the tub, although knowing that I did it as a kid too, I admit, I probably didn't say it with as much conviction as I probably should have.
Tessa likes to push the boundaries, but has lately been getting caught, the little stinker. Sometimes it's so hard to get mad at her though, because she's so cute and she says the funniest little things that I find myself more likely walking away from her so she doesn't see me smiling or laughing, than getting her trouble. Raising a toddler is never a boring job.
The first was last night. I had put her in bed, and we did our normal bedtime routine. Read the book, pray, tuck in with butterfly blanket, turn on her sounds, new music, and light buggin. Translation...sounds is her sound machine that I have had for her for a long time, it's basically white noise. That turns on at bedtime and stays on all night. New music is the Praise Baby Bedtime Lullibies cd that Magee (my mom, Grandma Vicki) bought her a few weeks ago. It's no longer new, but to Tessa, it's still her, new music. That goes on at bedtime, and plays until it's done, about 45 minutes later. Light buggin is her ladybug that lights up and projects stars and the moon on her ceiling. It can go in three different colors, she got it from Nana and Papa for Christmas and loves it. However, she is not allowed to remove her light buggin from her dresser at night, if she does, Mommy takes it away, and she knows this. She's lost it many a times. I love going in there when she's taken it into bed, (I can see through my video baby monitor) because as soon as I open the door, she usually throws it to the floor and says, "Here Mommy!" As if to say, I don't know how this thing ended up in my bed, but I know I'm not supposed to have it. She cracks e up. Well, last night, I saw through the monitor that she had light buggin in her bed, so I went to go get it, I opened the door, and I hear, "Oh no! It's Mommy!" She throws light buggin to the floor and lays real still in her bed. She got busted!
Then this morning, she got busted again. We were downstairs, I was working on hats and she was busy playing with her toys. She wandered into the kitchen, and I realized that I hadn't heard her say anything for a few minutes, which in Tessa-land, usually means trouble. So I got up from the couch, and turned the corner to walk into the kitchen. There she was, in the refrigerator, she spotted me and again I hear, "Oh no! It's Mommy!" and the tub of I Can't Believe it's Not Butter goes flying. I reminded her that we don't eat butter from the tub, although knowing that I did it as a kid too, I admit, I probably didn't say it with as much conviction as I probably should have.
Tessa likes to push the boundaries, but has lately been getting caught, the little stinker. Sometimes it's so hard to get mad at her though, because she's so cute and she says the funniest little things that I find myself more likely walking away from her so she doesn't see me smiling or laughing, than getting her trouble. Raising a toddler is never a boring job.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Back at it...
I make no promises, but I'm going to try. When I was on my Facebook account tonight, I saw that I had a website listed for myself. I totally forgot about my blog! My last entry was July of 2010, a year and a half ago. The other night, Tessa did something a little naughty but reacted in a way that was just so funny, and as I was telling my sister in law about it, she said, "I hope you're writing all this stuff down." what's bad is that I really haven't been. Yes, I post on facebook a funny tidbit or two, but Tessa is 2 1/2 now and is always cracking me up with her toddler antics. So yes, I think getting back to my blog will be a great way to record her more memorable moments. I don't promise to do it all the time, but now that I downloaded Blogger as an app on my iPhone, maybe it'll remind me to visit and update more often. Here's to giving it another try!
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