When I started blogging one year ago I had no idea what I was doing.  I had spent a lot of time on message boards and had seen online friends who had links to websites in their signature but I never clicked on them.  To be honest, I just figured they were commercials trying to sell me something.  To click on them was like clicking on that really flashy ad on the side bar that says, "Get pregnant now! Learn more here!"  Nope.  Not going to click it. 

When I was pregnant with Joey I came across a birth story.  It was a birth story like none that I had ever seen or read before. (Get tissues before clicking...HERE) As I read, I was so touched.  The words and photographs were like art.  The emotions were raw and the pictures imprinted those feelings perfectly in all of the right places.  I read the post at least 3 times, falling in love with it a little more each time.  I was so inspired by this woman and her most touching and perfect telling of how her daughter entered the world that I wanted to be able to capture the emotions of Joey's delivery on film as well.  After debating how weird it would be to have a former co-worker and photography enthusiast in the room with for delivery, who also happens to be a man, I just knew that it was what I wanted.  Some people want an epidural.  I wanted someone to capture all of the real emotion and excitement of the birth of my child.

So after a most wonderful delivery, my photographer friend sent me the CD of all of the photographs.  I loved them.  Even though most all of them had me, my most disliked photo subject, I loved that I was able to feel like I watched myself in this most amazing and difficult to describe situation.  I could re-live every single moment with a click of a button.  Because I loved them all so much I wanted to share them with as many people who wanted to see.  Seeing as how I was really proud of myself for figuring out how to do simple things like post a picture in a message board post, the idea of doing anything beyond that was foreign and scary.

Doug finally sat me down, signed me up for Blogger, and suddenly I realized that it was just like posting in a message board.  I could do this!  I wrote out my birth story and added my pictures and read and re-read my post.  I would laugh as I read.  I would get choked up every time I relived the moment where I felt his weight on my stomach.   I would smile at the photograph that captured the exact moment where I realized, "He is here!"

What suprized me the most was how much I liked seeing how many others read my story.  I don't know why this would surprise me since authors of novels probably like to know that people like to read their books but I was just a mom somewhere in Ohio who wrote down a birth story.  Then all of the sudden, like a light bulb, I realized something!  All of these blogs and websites that I find myself landing on when I was searching for reassurance during my pregnancy, while coping with my miscarriages, and while trying to do what was best for my children, were really just other people sharing what their experiences.  They weren't the all knowing authority figures I had thought them to be.  They were just people like me that had figured out how to use Blogger much faster than I had.

As I started writing, I found a wonderful creative outlet.  I shared my innermost feelings, my darkest moments, my most inspiring epiphanies with myself and the handful of people who had found their way to me.  As my audience began to grow I started feeling a little like I needed to make the next "episode" of my life or my story be as entertaining, helpful or inspiring as the last.  I put this pressure on myself and started to feel like my writing had become forced, less authentic, and really just less.... me.

I love all of the people and connections I have made this year and I recognize that these relationships have come from me sharing what I feel most strongly about.  For those of you that have been following me for a while, you might recall that my header also included this line after my title.  "My children.  The ones that are here and the ones that met God before they met me.  My journey with recurrent miscarriages, my faith and my life."  I don't know if I took it off for any real reason.  Maybe it was a space issue?  Maybe it was because of the whole infertility aspect that I hadn't included in my tag line and was reluctant to introduce?  Maybe I was trying to be marketable?  I don't know.

One thing I do know is that I want and need to get back to that old me.  In 2012, I am going to just be me.  I will still be posting fun things.  I will still share my sometimes off the wall and unique views on things.  I will still have review and giveaways if they are applicable to the infertility, trying to conceive, or loss audience.  But to get to my promise... I am going to speak using my voice and stop trying to find a voice that I think "the people" will like.  It will be just plain 'ol Maria again.  The mom without the answers.  The woman with heartaches and questions.  The woman with entirely too much experience with fertility and fertility related subjects.

I want to sincerely thank you all for joining me on this journey, cheering me on, and supporting me when I need it most.  I want you all to feel free to comment on my posts.  For anyone that blogs, you know how nice it is to know that what you wrote was read, enjoyed, provoked thought, or inspired someone.  If you don't blog, commenting is a lot like signing a guest book at a wedding.  Just letting me know that you were there means a ton.

If nothing else, 2012 is going to be a year about being true to myself, my faith, and as a result, I promise to be true to you.  Thank you again, for a wonderful year and I hope and pray that in this year brings us all some fantastic miracles if God wills it, and more vibrant and colorful blooms of faith with every day we are blessed to enjoy with our friends, families, and our Creator. 

Happy New Year!!!
Love,
Maria, Doug, Gavin, & Joey

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Today I had to go see my OB/GYN for a yearly "check-up". Since I really didn't have any interest in sharing a story about having a pap with a very inquisitive 3 year old and a teething 10 month old in the room, I left the boys with my mother. As I drove to my appointment I had an empty car which left me alone with my thoughts. So rare and thoroughly enjoyed, I must say. I spent most of my drive thinking about what I wanted to ask my OB, if I was going to have to pee in a cup (a skill I am most skilled at), and how I needed to remember to share with her the website with my labor a delivery pictures that she has been asking about.

I then started daydreaming about having a surprise pregnancy (despite knowing that it would never happen to me) and came up with this strange observation. If it does happen, and I know it does, that a woman doesn't know she is pregnant and has no visible signs of pregnancy then what about the opposite of that happening? I wonder if a woman has ever known that she was pregnant and waited and waited for a visible baby bump and never gotten one. I can't imagine that this ever happens. If it did then wouldn't we be hearing stories about this happening. I am not talking about little ladies who just never really got huge in the last trimester. I am talking about women who never look pregnant at all.

I would feel totally ripped off. Being pregnant with no baby bump would be like a road trip without a car. It just doesn't make sense to me. So, if this happens one way, not knowing and no bump, then it has to happen the other way, knowing with no bump. Right?

I would love to hear any stories of women (you or someone's old high school friend's dog walker's mom) that had a baby with no bump. I totally think TLC could have a show called "Baby But No Bump". I would totally watch it!


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A few days before my due date and scheduled induction I had an ultrasound that had estimated Joseph to weigh 9 pounds 11 ounces give or take a pound. My first thought was of course that I was very much hoping for the “take a pound” as opposed to the “give” part of the technicians comment. I was thoroughly planning for a delivery with no epidural or other pain relief but that number scared me. A lot. I first called a dear friend of mine who I knew delivered a 10 pound baby with no epidural AND she was induced so I knew I needed a pep talk. She assured me that I could do it and told me about a phrase that her husband repeated to her that helped. It was, “You can do anything for a minute.” I went home and prayed that I would go into labor on my own. I didn’t.


My labor was really picking up and I was starting to zone out during my contractions. I was watching Judge Judy (4 o’clock or so) or rather staring at the screen between contractions. There was a case between two lesbians and the one woman’s last name was Massengill. That was the last time I recall laughing until after Joseph was born.

The contractions were getting tougher and tougher to breathe through. I had started to really need to focus, squeeze Doug’s hand, and the sweating started. They checked me and I was only at 4 cm. I was still determined to deliver this baby with no pain relief and so Doug started reminding me, with every contraction, “You can do anything for a minute.” That reminder seemed to be coming faster and faster with less time to recover. It was now about 6 o’clock and I was feeling as if I couldn’t go much longer. The tears started coming and the pleading with Doug to remind me that I was going to do this pain free this time but I would certainly get the epidural next time. So, the nurse checked me again and told me I was dilated to 7 cm. That is when the real tears started. Only 7!? I felt as if I had been in labor for days in that atrocious bed. I turned to Doug and said, “I need something. Something IV. Just so I can rest. I am too tired to do this.” He asked me several times if I was SURE that I wanted drugs. I said I was so very sure, so he told the nurse when she came back in the room. She looked at me with a face I will never forget. “Aw, honey. We can’t give you anything IV after you are 5 cm.” I was so devastated thinking that I was just going to lose my mind when the next contraction started. A few contractions later the nurse asked me if I was feeling any pressure. I thought about it for a second and realized that I was feeling some pressure. It was only a few contractions later that I started feeling an uncontrollable urge to push. I was sitting up on my left hip and telling the nurse, “Oh! I am pushing!?”

She quickly tells me not to push and she is going to check me. She checks me and tells me not to push because I have a bit of cervix left and it could damage my cervix if I push. At that moment, my body didn’t give two craps about my cervix because despite every effort to not push, I was pushing. The nurse made a call and this is when the controlled chaos began. I remember her saying to whoever was on the other end of the phone, “I have got a woman here who is really pushy.” My first thought was, “I am trying to be nice. I don’t want to be that pushy lady that doesn‘t listen.” Then I realized what she meant by pushy. The nurse had her hand between my legs and was holding the baby’s head. That was terribly uncomfortable. I was still on my hip looking over my shoulder at the faces coming in the room. They all looked puzzled and nervous. I heard one person ask another, “Where is the doctor?” and the other answered, “She said she would be here in fifteen minutes and that was fifteen minutes ago.” At this point I didn’t care who caught this baby, I was pushing him out. Now. I was still announcing to the room that I was pushing and everyone in the room would answer back, “Don’t push! Don’t push!” to which I would answer with an emphatic, “IIIIIIIII’M PUSHING!” I was looking over my shoulder periodically to look for my doctor and was thrilled when I saw her frantically scrubbing her hands at the sink. They put the stirrups up and I put one leg up, then the other. I saw the doctor slide into position and I went ahead and pushed with everything I had. This time I heard my doctor’s voice chiming in with everyone else, “Don’t push!” Then I swear I hear the doctor exhale in defeat when she said, “Okay just one little push.” Then, the next thing I knew the weight of Joseph’s body was resting on my stomach. I couldn’t believe it. There he was. All 10 pounds 3 ounces of him. The instant pain relief I felt coupled with the reality that I had just delivered my second son was euphoric.

My nurse awarded Doug the “Best Coach Ever” award. He was very proud of that award but I was prouder that he stayed right by my side and helped me through what was so challenging, yet so rewarding.

Our beautiful baby boy, Joseph William was born on July 15th at 7:09 pm.