moving…

I had originally created this site to write about my challenges with (in)fertility away from my family and friends.  Now that I’m pregnant, it seems repetive to keep two blogs, especially since recently I find myself writing the same thing on each.

So… I’d like to draw your attention over here…

the time when I tell three stories in one…

When we bought our car, we bought used.  My Husband had just received his license and we didn’t want to go new for our first car.    We had visions of backing into posts and dents and scratches and we didn’t want to do that with a brand new car.  What we weren’t expecting was being run over by a 53′ transport truck and dragged 1.5km’s (1 mile) underneath it’s trailer along the highway.

The day we picked up the car, my Husband brought it to be detailed.  That was my request.  I was fine buying used, but I didn’t want to drive with someone elses dirt in it.  So, it was scrubbed and vacuumed and cleaned for just over three hours and we drove out with a brand new to us, squeeky clean car.

Right after the accident, when the Emergency personnel showed up at the scene and I was pulled away from the car by some by-standers, the firemen got to work.  The wheel of the truck ended up on top of the car, trapping my Husband under neath it.  They lifted the trailer off and then got to work with saws and jaws of life and cut our poor car into pieces to free him.  When they were pulling him out of the car to the waiting stretcher that would take him to the ambulance and then helicopter, they brought me over to the car.  At this point, I had been sitting in my own ambulance for just under two hours not knowing what was going on and too afraid to look.  When I got out and saw the car sitting there I was confused.  This wasn’t our car, this car was a convertible.  It honestly wasn’t until the next day that I realized it had been cut down.

The next day, while my Husband and I were still in the Emergency room waiting for his first of many surgeries, my Brother in Law went to the wrecker lot to rip apart our trunk and get out all of our belongings.

A few weeks ago, when my Husband was finally released from the hospital, we went for dinner at my Sisters house.  My Brother in law pulled my Husband aside and told him that he found something in the cab of the car that may be special to him.  It was a 50 cent piece.

50 cent pieces haven’t been used for currency in Canada for quite a long time.  Before my lifetime at least.  But, they still float around.  Used more for nostalagia, collectibles, a cute little present to give a kid to hold onto.  For my Husband,  a 50 cent piece has more meaning.

Many moons ago when the surgeon walked out of surgery to talk to my Husbands parents, he explained that the hole in his heart was much worse then they had thought.  The surgeon said that he had no idea how my Husband had lived for the 15 years that he did with it.  The hole in his heart was roughly the size of a 50 cent piece. 

Nobody ever forgot that.  50 cent pieces are very special to his family.  They symbolize what he went through and how strong he is.

But, that 50 cent piece that my BIL found in the car did not belong to us.  Nor did it belong to my Father In Law who was sitting in the passenger seat during the crash, or my Mother In Law who was trapped behind my Husband during the ordeal.  We have no idea where this 50 cent piece came from or how it ended up in our car after the crash.

But, it just proves to me how important a 50 cent piece is to my Husband.  That’s twice that his life was saved and twice that a 50 cent piece played a part of it.

It’s a…

I had my second ultra sound yesterday… it will the second of many as next week I’m having a fetal echocardiogram and in four weeks I have to go back to check if the level of fluid in the babies kidneys have changed.  I’m not worrying about either.  With all my family has survived over the past 12 months I know that everything will be okay.  From what I’ve read, fluid in the kidney’s at this stage is somewhat common and I figure if my Husband was strong enough to go through open heart surgery to fix the hole in his heart, if required, this kid could too.

The ultrasound was amazing, and before the technician pointed out the sex, I saw it.  It wasn’t hard to miss.  It’s a boy.  And, although I had my heart set on girl, I’m already re-designing the nursery in my mind and eyeing cute boy clothes in the shops.  Boys are fun too, and who knows, maybe mine will still want to play Princess with me.

During the ultrasound while the technician was measuring, there was a perfect shot of the upper part of the baby when his arm moved across the screen like he was waving at us. 

me:  Oh my god!  That was so creepy!
Technician:  Glances over at me with an odd expression
me:  I mean… wow… how beautiful!

half way there…

I just finished my 20th week, which means I’m halfway there! 

Nothing too exciting to share…  I’ve been tired, sick and achey, but I’m growing a baby and my Husband is home and getting better with each passing day and each Physio appointment.  All is good in the world even if I am too exhausted when I get home to do much more then a load or two of laundry before passing out for the night.

All is good… I’m just waiting for the energy to start to post a little more often.

good days…

After 10 weeks of being alone, of visiting my Husband in the hospital for only an hour or so a day, for not being able to cuddle or lie with or even have a private moment alone with…

My Husband is finally home.

Oh!  And, I had my first OBGYN appointment and I was able to hear the baby’s heart beat for the first time.

It’s been a good week.

alone…

I’ve never lived alone.  Ever.  I moved out of my parents house right in with my Sister where I stayed for five years before finally moving in with Jason.  I always wondered what I missed out on, what living truly alone would feel like.

For the past two months, I’ve found out what it would feel like.  For the past two months, while my Husband has been in the hospital, I’ve been living, sleeping, eating alone. 

I now know why I’ve never done it before.  This house sure is empty with just one person in it.

Whose body is this and what have they done with mine?

The past couple of months have been some fun ones…  morning sickness?  Try all day sickness!  The past 6 weeks I’ve lost just over 15 pounds which would make me think that the first trimester is a great diet, if I wasn’t all paranoid about not getting enough nutrients in me to grow this baby.

With all the losing weight, my clothes got baggier with the exception of my mid-section.  There, the clothes felt snugger.  I finally caved early last week and even though I haven’t finished the third month, I bought a couple of pairs of matternity jeans.  Late September is a bit too cold to be running around in the capris that I have been.  But, as the only bottom clothes that fit, I had no choice.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I have a belly!  I don’t mean a cute little pouch just barely peeking out in my middle, but an actual round bump that even the long sweaters I’ve been wearing to hide any signs at work aren’t covering it.  But, I’m only 3 months!!  And, just barely at the end of those three months.  Aren’t these things supposed to take a while to pop out?

I’m thinking tomorrow is the day that I should tell my boss that I’m pregnant because I don’t see how I’ll be able to keep it a secret much longer.

what next…

My Brother In Law were talking the other night about how this year has not been a great year for our family.  Since January 1st when my Mom first got sick, it’s been nine straight months of illness, accidents and general bad things happening…  it’s been rough, our family hasn’t had longer then one month without a catastophe of some sort. 

I’m so tired of all this happening…  we’re good people.  We’re honest and hard working…

I’m looking forward to the end of 2008, maybe just this year has been cursed.  I’m nervous of the next three months, that they will somehow mimic the early part.   I’m optamistic that it’s over, that this last little bit was the last monkey wrench thrown in. 

This has to be the end of it…

bad days…

Today, we held a picnic for my husband on the grounds of the hospital.  My Brother in Law put together a feast and we found two picnic tables, one in which my husband could sit at in his wheelchair, and all sat and ate and talked as if we were in one of our homes and not still at that place.

After everyone left, I went back to the room with my Husband and curled up on the chair beside his bed.  I felt guilty for being so tired, I had only been with him a couple of hours and I could feel myself falling asleep.  The hospital smells trigger my nausea, so sometimes sleeping is better then sitting there beside him. 

After sleeping for just over an hour, I woke up to hear him on the phone with my Mom.  He was telling her that the worst thing about being in the hospital is that he can’t be with me to take care of me.  He knows how horrible I feel and yet he can’t do anything about it.  I lay there, being still, thinking of how tired I was and how I needed to go home and go to sleep in a real bed for a bit, but I couldn’t leave him alone.  He’s alone in that hospital for 24 hours a day, the least I can do is sit with him for a few hours a day.  But, it’s so hard.

I’m afraid to complain to him, to tell him about how I feel, how I’m afraid of something going wrong…  I can’t tell him because there is nothing that he can do but lie in the hospital bed and worry.  I know that he cries at night because he can’t be home experiencing all this with me.  I know that he’s depressed over the fact that he has a minimum of another month before he can even consider coming home.  It angers me so much and yet I can never tell him that. 

I can’t tell him that I have flash backs of the accident, of the sounds and smells and the screams that still echo in my head. 

I should be greatful, I should think of the most important things right now…

He’s alive, and I’m pregnant.

It’s just so hard to keep focusing on that.

high fives all over the place…

The best response I’ve received so far to my pregnancy news was from my 13 year old Nephew.

The conversation that took place between myself, my Husband and Sister in Law and said Nephew…

Hubby:  So, how do you feel about new babies?
Nephew:  looking panicly at his Mom’s stomach   Huh??
SIL:  Not me!  I’m not the one that’s pregnant!
Nephew:  What??  looking back and forth, all wide eyed, between myself and my Husband  Whg IS pregnant? 
Me:    laughing   Me!
Nephew:  REALLY??  Jumping up, reaching across with his hand raised poised for a high five  Good Job!!