Yesterday I used my last First Response test in the house.  I have always given myself permission to feel a little more confident after the test line gets darker than the control.  As I watched this very thing happen yesterday I was slowly converting my ifs to whens.  I allowed myself to take a deep breath and embrace that I was going to have a baby in October.

yesterday afternoon's test

Today, started like any normal day.  Gavin climbed into our bed and wanted to watch an episode of Little Einsteins on Disney Junior.  I turned on the TV, covered him up, and decided to take advantage of Joey sleeping in a bit to steal a quick shower.  I even took 5 minutes to shave my legs.  We ate breakfast and started getting ready to get Gavin off to preschool.  I made a quick trip to the bathroom after getting dressed, wiped, and had no other word than "shit!"  Staring back at me on that toilet paper was blood.  Not a lot but for me, bleeding during early pregnancy has never ended good.

As I drove Gavin to school I noticed that I was feeling really crampy.  I have had some mild cramping since before my positive test but this is different.  I feel like Aunt Flo is about to come bursting through my front at any second.  The bleeding hasn't stopped.  The cramps are getting worse.  I know where this is heading.

Today's test.  It has dried a bit darker but still not as dark as yesterday's.

I am going to get blood work done in the morning and an ultrasound if the bleeding increases.

I know that I need to pray for God's will.  I know that no matter how this story ends, it is for a good reason.  It may make no sense to me now or ever, but somewhere in this universe my experience today is necessary in order to execute God's perfect plan. 

I am feeling pretty low with intermittent moments of fleeting hope.  I know it isn't over yet.  I know there is a small chance that I get to be a success story where spotting/bleeding turns out to be nothing at all.  My heart is telling me otherwise.

As Arpita and her husband enter their fourth year of trying to conceive their first child, she is trying to embrace the lessons the universe still has to teach her. Arpita wears her heart on her sleeve on her blog, about trying to conceive both naturally and with medical help, the infertility experience, natural parenting and everything and anything in mommy-world including easy recipes and loads of Give Aways. She blogs at Up, Down & Natural. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

When you start trying to conceive there is no shortage of stories of "friends of a friend of an aunt" and the "I know someone who". First the stories start off with the "I know someone who... got pregnant the first month off birth control. No period or anything!" You start to convince yourself, of course we won't have any trouble! We are young, healthy, don't smoke, don't do drugs... and we waited for the right time in our lives. We have been so responsible with this decision. We're not some dumb teenagers just hopping into bed! All signs point to baby... Then, as the years crank on of the TTC drudgery, and doctors appointments and tests, you start wondering if all the tests and procedures are accurate, and how deep the doctors looked in to things. You start wondering, maybe they switched our "normal" results with someone else's. Even though everyone is all healthy you start almost, just almost, wishing that something were wrong so there would be something to fix!

This fall, after delaying it for well over a year, my husband and I are scheduled for an IUI with medical injections (COH) in September. I was so hopeful leading up to the procedure that I would be one of those lucky women who, like my sister, was scheduled for more aggressive fertility treatments and then at the last moment found out they were pregnant and didn't need to go through with it. These are the stories you start to hear after two, three... going in to four years of trying to conceive. The "I know someone who tried for 7 years, and as soon as she stopped trying, BAM! She got pregnant!" Of course, I suppose there is still time for me to miraculously find out I'm pregnant before the procedure... but now it is starting to dawn on me that most people who have to schedule fertility treatments do infact have to also go through with having fertility treatments. I guess everyone, myself included, wants to be the exception instead of the rule.

I was trying the whole "not trying" thing, and for a while it was working. Not a care in the world, and for the first time in years I started thinking about the fact that maybe I did want to progress further in my career and maybe having the delay in having a baby was a good thing. Of course, that lasted about a minute before realizing that the only real thing I've been sure of is that God put me on this planet to be a mother. I'm still on a "break" of sorts and not using any ovulation predictor strips, acupuncture or anything else this month. Just a few herbs and vitamins that I should be on even if we weren't trying to conceive. I've read and re-read Maria's post "It Isn't Always About Me" about 1000 times. I keep trying to tell myself that, and even though deep inside me I know it's the truth and there must be a plan for us, I'm having such a hard time tearing myself away from the though that it's just not fair. I think everyone struggles with the thoughts of what they know they should think and feel, and what they DO think and feel. It's such a negative trap but I keep thinking to myself "Well..... if I just had ONE baby, at least then maybe I could come to terms with the fact that of course God has a better plan for us." But the fact that me not being a mother might be in God's plan just doesn't make sense to me.

Over the years, I've met and talked with other women who have been trying to conceive, and having trouble trying to conceive. One of the true blessings of my blog is that I've been able to help many women who have had struggles cope and not feel along as they go on to celebrate their pregnancies. Part of me does wonder, maybe this is the point of it all. Maybe my struggles have been to help others. However... something does keep nagging at me. Over the years, I've had other TTC friends tell me before they didn't understand why some women just didn't want children. This always strikes me as odd, since it was always crystal clear to me. I would say to them, I totally understood it. I believe wholeheartedly that God has put this want and deep maternal desire within me because he has given me the ability to be an amazing mother and I truly feel within me that it's my purpose in life. I used to tell my friends that women who claim that they don't want children might have another purpose in life, and that's why God never filled them with this deep maternal desire. Now I don't consider myself to be very religious, but I do believe in God. On those really tough days, I start to wonder if maybe I'm supposed to learn some other lesson like "Suck it up, Princess. You can't always get what you want..." The rational side of me knows that this likely is not the case. However, the emotional, hormonal side who has spent the last three years congratulating other women on their pregnancies while I don a fake smile, and yet again push away the tears wonders if I'll always be the guest at the Baby Shower, instead of the one it's thrown for.

My mother, who I speak daily with about mine and my husband's struggles has often told me that being pregnant is such a small part of being a mother, and there are always other options. I do agree with her that pregnancy is a very short time period in being a parent, but I also think it's a defining one. I would give anything to know what it feels like to have another human being growing inside me, and using my body for nourishment. To create life with my husband, and help bring another human being into the world is something that has always been my dream.

At the end of the day, I have to trust the fact that deep in my soul, I do know that I will be a mother. I do truly believe I would not have this deep of a desire for it, if it were not meant to be in some capacity. I'm not certain in what way I will come to that end, but I do know that it is the destination I am headed for. What each day is teaching me, is that I must learn whatever lessons it is that God is placing before me, and try to enjoy the journey to that destination.

I am so happy to be able to share this post with you all. In the 8 months that I have been blogging I have been able to "meet" some of the most wonderful people with whom there is just a special connection. With Arpita, we are able to commiserate through our frustrations with TTC and laugh to the point I have tears in my eyes. She decided it was entertainment enough to share it with all of you on a post called:

Give It Up, Google. You Don't Have Kids, and You're Not A Doctor.

Stay tuned for more information on the fantastic website that has been born because of this conversation. Take that infertility!

I used to do my best thinking in the car. Then Gavin turned 3. It is rare that I can make a trip anywhere without a barrage of questions. On our grocery trip this afternoon I answered questions like, "What type of fuel does a cement mixer use- gasoline or diesel?" And, "How do you get to the top of of that tower (a cell phone tower)?" And my personal favorite was, "How does God make people?" So, you can see how being alone with my thoughts is a rare occasion. But, tonight, somewhere between Sam's Club and home, I was graced by a break in the questions just long enough to have an epiphany.

I often hear people say that God wants us to be happy. He doesn't want to see us hurting. He wouldn't break our hearts. People want to blame all that is contrary to what we dream of and hope for on Satan or anyone but God. This is what I think:

God's priority isn't our happiness. His priority is that we have faith, do His will, His work, and share His word. I think that if we do these things we will find and experience happiness but it isn't like God says, "Let me see what I can do to make Maria happy today." It is the opposite. I need to do a better job of waking up every morning and spending time thinking about how I am going to make Him happy.

As I am anticipating my appointment on Friday, I am really spending a lot of time thinking about happiness and what Gods wants for me. Right now, my thinking that sounds a lot like, "I want God's will but, man, am I ever hoping that God's will is for me to get what I want." I am human. I am struggling a lot with this.

At me appointment, I will hopefully learn what my likely options will be and that is when the real discussions will take place. I know that talk about assisted reproduction can get heated, intense, and feeling sometimes get hurt. I really hope that all of you who are on this journey with me, can respect each other and me when I talk through some of my personal thoughts on these topics. I don't know what direction, if any, I will go, but I hope that we can at least have a civil discussion if it comes up. I am sure that no one participates in fertility treatments without giving it a lot of thought, so I will never judge anyone for the decisions they make. I ask the same in return.

Since this was such a "deep" post, I'll end with a smile. I found this drawing on Gavin's desk the other night after I tucked him into bed. Despite the fact I have such little hair and a HUGE nose and look more like a Muppet, I love it!

When I was trying to conceive baby #2 and kept miscarrying, no matter when it happened, I was devastated. Maybe it was my coping mechanism, but I would find myself carrying Gavin in his carrier, 3 bags of groceries, and a gallon of milk up the basement stairs and think to myself, "I am not sure how I would have managed if I was pregnant. I have enough on my plate as it is." Or Gavin would go through a phase where he would need me more than usual, was more active, or more labor intensive, and I would think to myself, "God must have seen this coming and knew that I wouldn't have been able to handle this as well if I was dealing with morning sickness, being exhausted, or big and pregnant. It wasn't like my pregnancy with Joey was perfect but, when I was barfing my brains out, Gavin was content to watch an episode of Little Einsteins. I wasn't exhausted because Gavin was sleeping until 8:30 or 9:00am. And by the time I was big and pregnant, Gavin was thriving on being independent. So, really timing for my pregnancy was perfect.

I started my period last week after being taunting with just enough spotting to tease me into googling the crap out of implantation spotting. Nah. Just Aunt Flo stopping by to check out the accommodations before moving in her stuff. Disappointing? Yes. But until we get Doug's health in check, me dealing with morning sickness, going to the doctor weekly for monitoring, juggling Doug's medical appointments, all while somehow managing Gavin, Mr. I Live in Time Out, and Joey, Mr. If It Can Hurt Me, I Will Find a Way To Get It? Dare I say impossible?

As much as I want to be pregnant again, I know that God knew what was headed my way. He knew it would be too much. And now the confession: I weaned early partly so that I could start trying for #3. Whew. There. It is out. As Joey's first birthday is approaching and I think about how I should just now be weaning, I can't help but wonder if the fact that I have been trying for 8 months with no success is God's way of saying that I made a wrong decision about weaning when I did. Who am I to challenge God's plan and give Joey formula to circumvent the way things should have gone.

There is no sense in me dwelling on the decisions that were made 7 months ago but last week, as I sat in Doug's hospital room, I realized that I need to really follow God's lead. With as painful as it is to watch the pregnant world pass me by, I know that when God hands me another child, I will look back and say, "Thank you God for your perfect timing! Again!"


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I am going to give this a shot today since I feel like I need an opportunity to pour my heart out.

I am sitting here waiting for each day to pass to determine what my mood is going to be. I already know that, even if I try really really hard to stay positive, if I end up with a negative pregnancy test this month, I am going to be heartbroken. Every month without a pregnancy is hard but this month is different. Due to the medications Doug needs to take to get better, his fertility is going to significantly diminished. Everything I have read says that it is highly unlikely that we will conceive while he is on the medication. Since his treatment is going to last anywhere from 2-3 years, I can't help but feel like my dreams of a large family are being threatened. I will be 35 this summer and time isn't exactly on our side in that regard, not to mention that Doug is already in his 40's. I love my boys and I can't think of anything better for them than to have more siblings to grow up with, play with, learn from, and share with.

This is really hard for me to write about since I really don't want Doug to feel like he needs to focus on anything other than his health. He is my priority. His healthy is most important to me. But, I would be lying if I said that I am not devastated to learn that pregnancy may not be a part of our lives for 3 years. I am trying really hard to remind myself that God has a plan but right now, I am feeling like this plan really sucks. I have a few more days before I can rule out a pregnancy for this month so I am praying that we timed thing right and that this really low point for both of us can turn into a wonderful blessing while Doug heals.

Today I am 8 days past ovulation (for those of you following my TTC journey). I will keep you posted in the coming days as to those results.

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A few weeks ago, I decided that I should probably stock up on pregnancy tests. I found a good deal on eBay and bought three boxes of First Response (3 in each box) and clicked "Buy It Now." A few days later, they arrived in the mail. Some people get really excited about new shoes, new jewelry, and new kitchen gadgets. I get excited about fresh, unopened boxes of sticks to pee on. As I was putting them on my pee stick shelf I noticed that there was a free fertility test in each box of tests. Ooooh! I have never peed on one of those before. This could be great fun. I read the instructions and learned that they were to be used on the third day of my cycle. I was so hopeful that I would have a positive pregnancy test and that the third day of my cycle wasn't going to happen for at least a year. Since my period decided to show up and dash my dreams of a pregnancy, I was looking forward to peeing on a whole new kind of test.

On the third day of my cycle, Friday, I took the test. The test is supposed to be read at 30 minutes and no later than 60 minutes after it is taken. This is what I was looking at at 30 minutes.
Any other pee stick I have used this would be great news. But not this time. For the First Response Fertility Test for Women, if the test line (the line on the left) is as dark as or darker than the control line (on the right) it indicates elevated levels of FSH or Follicle Stimulating Hormone. This is not good news for a women who is trying to conceive.

This test is not intended to be used as a diagnostic tool. It is recommended that with a positive result that I follow up with my doctor. I intend to call my doctor and see what sorts of tests are indicated given this test result. I have done enough research to learn that this doesn't necessarily mean that I am infertile but it can mean that it will take longer for me to get pregnant. It may also mean nothing at all.

While I follow up with my doctor I would love to hear your opinions on the following: Do you think that seeking medical treatment to increase one's fertility is trying to interfere in God's plan for us. Meaning, if I enter into menopause early and I use fertility medications to induce or improve ovulation, is that trying to step around the plan that God has intended for me? Please share your thoughts with me.

I have seen many posts and articles where people list all of the things that people say to them in the midst of a loss that are really not helpful. I, too, have heard many of these comments as well and hated them just as much as the next girl. I will list a few of my "favorites".

• Well, at least you know you can get pregnant!
• Something must have been wrong with your baby.
• It wasn't in God's plan, I guess.
• Keep trying. It will happen.
• Just relax.

Anyone who has had a loss knows just how irritating it can be to hear these words from a well meaning friend or family member. But, now, I will share with you a confession. A few weeks after a loss, I secretly tell myself all of these things. I don't know why it hurts so much when others try to tell me these things, but it is okay if I have come to this conclusion on my own.

I was thankful that at least getting pregnant hadn't been an issue. I knew from doctors (both real and Dr. Google) that the most likely cause for my losses was something was genetically wrong with my baby. I was sad that that my baby wasn't in God's plan, but how can I argue with God's perfect plan? I would just have to keep trying. I knew I would get pregnant again and, when the timing was right for God, I would carry a baby to term. What I needed to do was relax and let God take the lead.

I don't know why it hurts so much to hear these bits truths from others. I think that maybe we assume that when they say these things they aren't recognizing how hurt we really are. Maybe it seems like they are trying to look for a silver lining regarding our loss when, at that moment, there is no silver and there is no lining. When a loved one dies unexpectedly, no one spends time trying to give you the silver lining at a funeral. Everyone needs to grieve and at a funeral, people respect that. With a miscarriage, especially an early one, there is no funeral. There is no "grace period". People seemed to expect me to bounce back right away and get on with life. Which I did for the most part, but there was a long and lingering ache that was very deep and painful. Without warning, it could get opened up with an innocently meant, "It wasn't meant to be." I knew they were right but I didn't want anyone else to tell me that.

Maybe it is more about being forced to confront something that we don't like to think about. Like if I need to organize a cluttered closet, I don't want someone else to look at my closet and tell me what a wreck it is. Or if I am having a bad hair day, I don't want someone to point out that my hair looks bad. Or better yet, if I have gained a few pounds and someone dared walk up to me and tell me that I look a little fluffier than usual, I would cry myself all the way to the closest ice cream parlor.

So, what should you say to someone who has had a loss? Keep it simple, heartfelt, and honest. If you don't know what to say, tell them that you don't know what to say. When you start making stuff up is when you will get yourself into trouble. "I'm sorry for your loss," goes a long way.

For those who have had losses, what is the best and/or worst things people have said to you?

I have probably touched on this before but I happen to think that have inherited the longevity gene. I have lived 34 years of life, almost 35, and have only been to 2 funerals. Each was for a grandparent. I have never had to deal with an instance of a young, healthy, surprise passing of a friend or relative. I haven't even had a relative pass away of an illness. I do have an aunt with advanced cancer who is in her late 50s but she has been doing chemo treatments and seems to be doing quite well. So, with all of this being my experience it is so hard for me to fathom the fact that today, for any number of reasons, might be my last day on Earth.

On Saturday evening, Doug and I were getting ready for our date night. We were getting the boys packed up to go to "Nana" and "Papo's" house for the evening. As I was doing a last minute diaper change, I started feeling a stabbing pain in the top left side of my head. It wasn't so painful that I did much more than put my hand to my head and wonder, "What in the world is this?" I don't get headaches unless I have skipped my morning coffee so a strange pain, unlike any other headache I have ever had, made me think.

Everyone has at least heard a tragic story of a healthy person just dying. I am not a hypochondriac. Aside from my recurrent miscarriages, I am probably one of the healthiest people I know. No allergies, no broken bones, no diseases, you get the point. But a moment or two after the first onset of the sharp pain in my head I thought to myself, "What if this is it? Maybe I am going to fall over dead from a brain aneurysm." I wasn't kidding either. I had a moment where I thought that I could possibly be experiencing my last moments of life.

I really was amazed, and rather impressed if I do say so myself, that my first thoughts weren't of sadness. I thought of God. I thought to myself that while I am far from being free of sin, I have faith that death is the start of something very beautiful. A journey to eternity. I thought that if it was God's will for that day to be my last then, since there was nothing I would be able to do about it, I should be excited about the next chapter.

A few minutes later the stabbing pain subsided and I continued packing the kids up and deciding what I would order for dinner at the new restaurant we were going to. I didn't mention my little "episode" to Doug that night. It was almost like it was a personal moment between God and I and I wasn't eager to share it. Then Easter morning we were off on another adventure.

I was getting ready for church and Doug was entertaining the boys. Doug put Joey down and told me that he was in pain. He went upstairs and I could hear him moaning and groaning in obvious pain. I know that Doug will argue with me about this when her reads this post but... Doug (and all guys, I think) can be a bit dramatic when they aren't feeling well. It is like they have a pass on being manly and can turn into big 'ol babies when they don't feel well. So, I didn't race up there right away. Then I heard heaving and moaning and groaning. Then, I thought that I should probably see what the problem was. He was clutching his stomach and chest and said he was in terrible pain. He was sweaty and there were tears in his eyes. I asked him if he thought we should go to the Emergency Room. This is when I thought, if he is just being dramatic, he'll pass on the ER and opt for some wifely attention. When, without hesitation, he said 'yes' to the ER I knew that he was really really in pain.

My parents came to pick up the boys. This is one of those times where it is great to have parents living on the same property. Withing 5 minutes the boys were picked up and we were in the truck and on the way to the ER. But, before my parents were able to leave with the boys, Doug insisted on kissing them goodbye. Without him explaining anything to me, I knew that he was concerned for his health and thought that maybe these were his last moments. Doug's story ended just as uneventfully as mine did. The only difference is that his is going to get billed to us in a few weeks as very expensive gas pain.

I don't mean this to be a depressing "we are going to die" post but I do think it is important to live each day as if it is our last. I think a lot of young healthy people think that they have plenty of time to fix things between them and God. They will get to church when the kids are older and won't interrupt service. They will read the Bible when they have more time. They will think of eternity when they are laying on their death bed and ask God for forgiveness for all of their sins. We could leave this world in a flash. With no warning. Maybe today is a good day to think about God and where we stand with Him.

When I was growing up, I was what many people would call spoiled. Not so much with my mother, but my father had a really hard time saying no. As a matter of fact, he still does. Gavin has learned this at an earlier age than even I did. Either that, or my dad has actually gotten softer. It is hard for me to believe that is possible. If I wanted something, anything, I would always ask my dad.

"I don't want to clean my room before I go over to Jen's house to play. I promise to clean it when I come back." My dad would try to stick to his guns and say, "Your mom told you you had to clean your room before you went anywhere." Then I would inevitably play the card that all girls have at one point or another. Turn on the tears.

"But Daaaaaad... " would precede any somewhat relevant explanation of why THAT simply wouldn't work for my schedule or meet my needs. I would beg. I would sob. I would plead. Promise. Cry more. And then after a few minutes of this song and dance I would be skipping off to Jen's house. I was a master of my craft.

Maybe this is why I am having such a hard time with yet another month passing without a baby on board. I have always been able to get what I want without too much effort. A little crying. I little begging. A couple of promises later I get what I want. But when it comes to God, that isn't the way things work.

Unlike my father who only wanted to see me happy, God wants what is good, right, and perfect for His plan. As I sit and await the arrival of my monthly visitor, I remind myself that God is only going to give me what I need. That doesn't mean that I won't cry. It doesn't mean that I won't mourn the loss of another opportunity to experience pregnancy. It doesn't mean that I won't get pangs of jealousy when others around me announce pregnancies. It certainly doesn't mean that I won't turn into an emotional mess when I live vicariously through a stranger on a TV show giving birth. It just means that I obviously didn't really need to be pregnant right now.

It is tough to be a grown-up and know the difference between what I want and what I need. Today, I decided that since God knows that I don't yet need to be pregnant then I must need to do something else. Perhaps it is that sink full of dishes.

I am pretty certain that the next baby I want to keep the gender a surprise. With Gavin, about 30 seconds after I saw PREGNANT on the test, I wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl. Doug was in the same boat. At an ultrasound at just over 15 weeks the technician asked me if we were finding out the gender. I said, "Yes! But it is too early to tell now, right?" Doug wasn't with me since I just assumed that there would be nothing remarkable at this ultrasound. The technician had a big smile and asked if I wanted to know. Now." After about 3.2 seconds of very thorough consideration I said, "Yes! I want to know!" She warned me not to buy everything in blue just yet and if I did, to keep the receipt just in case but she was pretty confident that he was a boy. We were thrilled!

When I was pregnant with Joey I was kind of hoping for a gender surprise but Doug wanted to hear nothing of it. I must admit that he didn't have to do much to persuade me. I posted the whole story about finding out that I was expecting another boy in a post called As Long As She's Healthy. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled initially. Because my pregnancy was night and day compared to Gavin's, I was sure that I was having a girl. It didn't take a really long time to get excited about Joey being a boy, but it makes me feel a little guilty about not being excited about the news. I should have been jumping for joy that I was pregnant with a healthy baby boy. How horrible of me that I was, even for a second, not recognizing how blessed I truly was to be carrying a baby in my stomach that was healthy. I still feel bad about this.

So the next time I become pregnant I want to be surprised. I think that God's design of women is nothing short of miraculous. He designed our bodies to host, grow, deliver and feed another human being. (That is probably a post for another day.) I think that immediately after delivering Joey, that euphoria that I felt when his weight rested on my stomach was instant (something). Honestly, I can't find a word that really represents that feeling. That love wrapped up in excitement, peppered with the knowledge that my world was never going to be the same again. I think that at that exact moment is the best time to find out the gender of my baby. If I am blessed to have a third boy I am sure that there will not be one split second of regret. It is easy to feel let down when your eagerly anticipated baby isn't much more than a black and white fuzzy picture on a screen every few months. Even though the books and websites tell you that there is a human being growing inside of you, and you are reminded of it with jabs and pokes and kicks, it is almost a foreign language until the birth. I can only imagine that when a pink, crying baby with arms flailing about, locks eyes with me I am going to be overjoyed to have whatever gender God felt was right for my family. That moment is when God intends for me to learn the gender. It will be hard to wait but I know it will be worth it in the end.

Okay... now if only I could get a couple of lines on a pregnancy test. I will do a more in-depth review of the Baby Confirm pregnancy tests in a future post but for now I will say that they have given me a very clear negative on both the dipstick and the midstream tests. Not even a hint of an evaporation line. It is still early so I am not ready to give up hope just yet.

It is days like today that make me question if I am really ready for another baby. Last night, Joey fell asleep like a dream and then, after about 3 hours of good sleep, he was done. He started crying and would fall back asleep for about 10 minutes. Which, coincidentally, was just long enough for me to get comfortable, warm, and halfway to Sleepytown. I would do this same agonizing cycle for a couple of hours when I finally gave up.

I let Joey sleep in bed with us. He always sleeps like a log when he is nestled between Doug and I. He rests his arm on my head or back and will sleep soundly until Gavin shouts, "Time to wake up!" promptly at 7 AM. Last night was a little different though. Gavin had his first nightmare. At 3 years old, he hasn't been able to really explain what it was about but inferring from the scream at 3:30 AM, it had something to do with a missing sock. Yes. A nightmare about a missing sock. I found him in the hallway, shouting, "I need my sock back!!! I need my sock back!!!" through tears of shear agony. It broke my heart to see him so scared and disturbed but I couldn't help but smile that his first bad dream was about a sock.

I took him to the bathroom to hopefully distract him from the thoughts of the dream. I reassured him that I would help him find any and all socks when the sun came up. I tucked him back into bed and shared a few minutes of cuddling and told him how much I loved him. I crawled back into bed next to Joey who was awake but calm. I was about to drift off when I realized that the monitor that goes to Gavin's room wasn't working because I could hear him calling for me but his voice was coming through the wall, not the monitor. After a couple of minutes of figuring out the monitor, Gavin started crying that he needed to go potty. Again. Doug volunteered to take him this time. He finally settled back in. And we all got to have a couple more hours of sleep.

We had a pleasant morning until we discovered that our heat wasn't working and there wasn't any firewood brought in the house. Since the inside temperature was 61 degrees, it was a good day to go shopping. That went well and both boys were manageable. Once we returned and ate lunch, it wasn't long before nap time arrived. Joey hasn't been napping very well or very long lately so I was prepared for a challenge on that front. Gavin, on the other hand, had been telling me all morning how he was still tired. After last night, I can't say that I was surprised. I was tired too. So, I took Gavin up for his nap. Then fed Joey and took him up for his nap. Joey, was acting tired but wanted me to stand right by his crib while he fell asleep. Meanwhile I am hearing Gavin shouting, "MOOOOOOOOOOOM!? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" Of course Joey was hearing it too and listening attentively to his shrill shouts.

I walked away from the crib to hear Joey instantly scream. I went to Gavin to ask him what he needed, trying to maintain my patience despite being able to feel the anxiety and shear exhaustion bubbling up. He requested some books to read. Okay. Easy enough. I go back to Joey's room and get him settled back down again. I finally see him drift off to sleep. I come downstairs to unwind, relax, watch some TV that isn't animated, and blog. I had just enough time to log into my computer to hear Gavin, in his innocent yet seemingly manipulative voice say the dreaded words, "I have to go potty." In my effort to get everyone along to nap, I had forgotten to make sure he went potty before he went to bed. My eyes actually started to water. Not exactly tears but just moisture that wanted to drip out to relieve some of the stress. Upstairs I go. Then, almost as if he was determined to ensure that I didn't have time to do anything other than tend to him, he tells me, "I am going to go pee. Then poop." Ugg.

So, as I finally am able to sit down and relax without any little voices, I have to wonder... Am I really ready to add to my family? I know that in a few months, today will be just a distant memory. Everyone has rough days, right? I wonder if there is ever an ideal time to add to a family. Won't there always be rough times no matter their ages? Maybe this is God's way of showing me, "See. I know what I am doing. I'll add to your family when I know you are ready."

Clearly, I am not ready today.

Every month I find myself daydreaming about the potential due date of my not yet conceived child. I was so excited about the possibility of having a baby at the end of October. October is by far my favorite month. I thought about how nice it would be to cuddle a newborn as the weather is getting cold outside. As the snow begins to fall, building a fire and staying in for 3 or 4 months sounds ideal to me. But... then after a number of negative pregnancy tests, my period starts to cement the fact that there will be no October birthday for my next baby. Maybe delivering a butterball turkey for Thanksgiving would be fun!

I have decided that I need to have a different attitude about trying for baby #3. I need to make this less about when I want a baby. I need to focus less on what I want and try to think about what God wants for me and my family. It is so hard to try to relinquish control, but when I realized that I am not really in control here anyway, it is actually kind of liberating.

I am going to do what I can to make sure that if God wants to bless us this cycle with a pregnancy, that I have done my part. But, should this cycle pass without a baby on board too, well, that is how God wants it. It may be hard for me to understand since I think I am ready right now but, He has proven to me over and over again, that His timing is perfect.

Because of the recurrent losses, I have spent a great deal of time on various message boards both on the giving and receiving ends of grief and loss support. My heart absolutely breaks into pieces every time I read about a mother losing a baby either late in pregnancy or shortly after delivery. I am not exaggerating when I say that I truly have tears in my eyes when I hear these grieving mothers share their tragic stories of losing those precious little lives that they barely knew but loved with every fiber of their being. I can't find words to describe how much pain I feel for them and their precious babies

It is for that reason that I can't seem to find much to say to women who electively terminate a pregnancy. I know that these decisions aren't made without a great deal of thought, research, and advice from doctors and other professionals. Doctors and professionals who won't be standing with them on Judgment Day. This is just my opinion, but I still think that to terminate a viable pregnancy is to decide to play God. If that baby is living in my womb, with a beating heart then that baby is who God chose to give me. I read a story of a woman who had a baby diagnosed with Trisomy 21 (Downs Syndrome) at approximately 20 weeks gestation. They were also told that he had an improperly formed heart that would need a transplant at birth despite being told that "they do not do organ transplants on trisomy 21" infants. She was also told that the baby would need a colostomy bag for the rest of his life. She terminated the pregnancy.

I am sure that any mother who heard this prognosis would be devastated. Utterly broken. Where I guess I differ is that I could never terminate that baby. If God gave me the gift of that beautiful miracle, it was for a purpose. Who am I to determine that his life was not going to be good enough? I have faith that God's plan is perfect. If He chose me to be the mother to a special needs child then I will embrace that role and love that baby for as long as God chooses to let his heart beat. For me to terminate a baby would be akin to me telling God, "Thanks. But no thanks. Your plan was good when it worked for me, but now that it inconveniences me, I am making my own plan." I am not going to judge the women who chose to terminate for that is between the mother and her Creator. I hope they make peace with God before they learn how long an eternity is.