The Chiropractor

I recently changed chiropractic offices when I began feeling a pain in my side awfully reminiscent of last year's rib-out-of-place debacle. I woke up on a Sunday morning with what felt like a stitch in my side (do you know what that is? My hubs claims it doesn't exist!), or a bad cramp, and it just wouldn't quit.

Monday morning I called my yoga instructor/new chiropractor and made an appointment for that afternoon. I, unfortunately--I felt at the time, couldn't meet with my yoga instructor but her husband, who instructs Tai Chi classes instead.

While I've gotten to be rather close with my new yoga friends, they really don't know too much about my personal life, namely my current inability to bear a child.

So, you can imagine my surprise when, as I lay belly-down on the red vinyl table, Dr. Tai Chi spoke of my misalignments in my back-namely, some that represent my menstrual cycle and ovulation.

Perk. Those were my ears clamoring for more information. I had never mentioned to Drs. Tai Chi or Yoga that I had irregular cycles or issues with ovulation.

Dr. Tai Chi asked if I ever had issues with one cycle being very heavy and painful compared with the previous month. Yes.

Then he talked about my ovaries and something about them getting tired or whatever. I don't exactly remember because I was trying to digest the million things he was saying in his South African accent while being adjusted this way and that.

Regardless, the main point of this is on Wednesday Aunt Flo arrived. Or so I thought. No, she did. It was just that the usual pain I have when she's here, wasn't. And the usual Flo wasn't usual...she packed light for this visit.

I feel I glossed over this too much...um, I couldn't even feel her presence.

Did Dr. Tai Chi have something to do with this? Can I be fixed from the outside? Is there hope for me? I seem to be seeing a lot of "hope" lately. We shall hope and see.

Ahimsa

In yoga, we've started to delve into the Yamas beginning with Ahimsa. Basically it's non-violence. And this includes no self-violence. No, I'm not a cutter nor am I physically mean in any other way (unless you count the things that Jillian Michaels makes me do...) but I am very guilty of self-deprecation. And so through the study of Ahimsa, I'm trying to live the life and be more loving of me.

I was in a discussion recently about signs. I believe in signs, I see little ones all the time. For example, my lucky number is eight. Basically, my birth date, time, and weight are all eights. Really. So I took that as a sign and eight's been my number, forever.

In the previously mentioned discussion there was a talk about 11. A person had many occurrences with eleven. So 11 became their sign. But it doesn't always have to be numbers. Sometimes when things don't go right--trying to make something turn out just so to only to have that certain something no longer needed. Sigh.

There's even the off-chance that I'll take extra work home in the midst of winter and voila, a snow day the next morning. It's like the universe is sending you little signs. It's her way of showing she cares.

So this morning, as I was working on the no self-deprecation, I was consciously thinking nice thoughts about myself ("My butt looks fine." "Those hairs that stick up on my head are probably overshadowing the 3 1/2 inches I got cut off last night." And so on.). And as I was in the main office of my work I was sitting in the chair, known as the therapy chair. It was there in the therapy chair I saw my first Ahimsa sign.

On the front desk of my friend and co-worker sits an apple-clothes pin contraption that holds the out-going mail upright. And as is very common in an elementary school setting, there was a Scholastic Books envelope waiting to be shipped off to the land of not-so-cheap books. Sitting next to the mail holder is a cup of pens. Where am I going with this whole Ahimsa-signs-of-the-universe thing?

Well, the exact position of the cup of pens combined with how I normally sit in the therapy chair--pushing myself to think kind things--partially blocked the view of the Scholastic envelope. The envelope that always has the same saying on the back, "Thanks for your buying our books at really unreasonable price..." oh wait, it doesn't say that. And it doesn't really matter. Except the first part. Today, the envelope, or the universe, said "Thanks for you."

Don't Give Up

Did you give up on me yet? I cannot believe it's been more than a month since I've written anything! I will get back into it. Surely.

Long story short--in regards to working out. Once the school year started I changed my ways a little. I am getting up earlier in the morning and working out, walking the dogs, and then getting ready for the day. Despite not liking the early rising time, it's actually working out quite well. I love being able to come home and just make dinner--not change, work out, then getting dinner ready. And most days, the pups get a walk after my workout. Too bad it's super dark that early in the morning.

Other than that, we're still on the budget. We're at $60 a week which I sometimes find hard to meet. I need to spend more time with my coupons but they're so overwhelming to me. Anyone have a good way to keep them helpful instead of drowning me?

I'm still not drinking coffee (I know!!!) but have started drinking chai lattes in the morning. I really like the warm morning beverage.

I still love my yoga class. This upcoming weekend we have a yoga retreat. I can't wait!

Okay, to make my grocery list. Happy Sunday. Happy October. Remember, share those couponing ideas!

Ramadan

No, I'm not suddenly Muslim. But I am, however, joining the outskirts of this holiday. With the encouragement of the community and my friend Nadia I've decided to do some fasting of my own. During these thirty days, not just sun up to sun down, I will be fasting from these four things:

1. Coffee--caffeine technically
2. Deep fried foods
3. Procrastination
4. Swearing

So far so good. I actually gave up coffee on Monday so I'm a day or so ahead and it's no fun. I am on day two of head and neck aches. However the procrastination is getting better. I'm getting things done that need to be done.

Unfortunately I've had FIVE slip ups in the swearing department. This one will definitely take more brain power for me. Four of the slips were last night and one today. I'm making progress.

I'm also on day four of working out. Feeling so much better already and liking the way my clothes are fitting better. Yay!

What Was I Thinking?

I totally wasn't in the right frame of mind to begin another 30 Day Shred. But now I am. And it's even Sunday today! I may switch things up a bit to not get too bored. I have the P90X Cardio disc and the Biggest Loser Last Chance Workout. I like having options.

Today was officially day one for me. Which means, the day before the first day of school, I will have completed 30 days. Sounds good to me, except the going back to work part. Where's my vacation gone?

This is week two of the grocery budget and planning. We're on a $60.00 a week budget and I am making myself make a weekly menu so that when I go grocery shopping I'm not aimlessly throwing things in the cart.

This week's menu: Chicken nachos, buffalo chicken salad, turkey burgers, ribs, homemade pizza.

Tomorrow I begin my slow return to work also. I'll only be putting my room in order and getting in cleaned up. And then I'll start thinking about what I'm teaching this year.

Happy second week of August!

Glorified Grahams

This is not my recipe. Or at least it didn't begin as mine. I have a friend who has the most amazing recipes and they're always out of simple ingredients. I don't have to scour several stores for this spice or that it's usually things I already have in the pantry. And I bet, with this recipe, you will too.

Interested?

First, you will need these ingredients:

2 sleeves of graham crackers
1/2 C. of butter (1 stick)
1/2 C. of brown sugar
2 oz. (about 1/4 C.) chopped pecans

That's it...for all this....

Here you go-

Melt the butter in and mix in the brown sugar until smooth and well-combined.

Get your grahams ready...

Lay them out on a baking sheet.

Spread the butter & brown sugar mixture over the grahams.

In retrospect, I should have allowed for the mixture to seep under the grahams more...trust me.
Then top with pecans.

While resisting the temptation to eat this concoction set the baking dish in the oven.

When you take them out, let them set for about 10 minutes to cool.

Go ahead and drool, it's okay. Just not over the grahams.

So, as you're enjoying these, make sure you tell Paula thank you.

Squidgy, Again

I'm not full on squidgy but I'm definitely getting soft around the edges. I started going to yoga class back in June and I love it. Problem is, it's not super workout yoga. Compound that with the fact that I've cut waaaay back on doing the Shred and I'm bound to gain a few back.

So, I'm back here again--ready to face 30 intense days of the Shred again. This is now the second cycle since the miscarriage that I have not conceived so what better to do than to get my body svelte? Okay, so it won't really get svelte, but it may get more toned.

I think I'm going to drag myself upstairs to the scale right now. I may or may not share the number I see. I'm guessing it's back over 200, sadly. But at the same time, if I've gained 5-10 pounds, it's my own fault.

So, wish me luck. And happy Shredding--if you do that sort of thing.

**Post Edit**
Okay, scratch that. I'm not in the 200s (whew) and I haven't even gained weight. Technically, since the last time I weighed, I've lost. I'm now at -31.2.
HOWEVER, knowing that I'm softer around the edges, I realize I have lost some muscle and since muscle weighs more than fat, I think I haven't really lost weight. So, time to get back on the wagon!

Pandora, It's Not Just For People

DIY

I'm coming back around to this blogging thing. I've been trying to get my life in order first. So, after a trip to Ikea with friends, here's project number one with a little confused dialogue.

Start with a blank and boring wall inside a cluttered office.

Oh, I have one of those.

Next, shop at Ikea for some organization things. But keep an open mind. You never know what you'll find in the kitchen area.

Hrm, okay if you say so.

My, are those heat pads made of cork?

Why yes they are.

Why would you buy cork trivets for an office?

Oh, you'll see...

Now you have velcro fasteners and trivets. You feeling okay?

Yup.

Hrm, putting the velcro fasteners on the cork? With both sides of the velcro on there?

Uh huh.

Oh, I get it! It's a build-your-own cork board!

Sho' nuff. The best part?

It's removable! Enjoy!

Back to Reality

I have lots to share but not enough time right now. I did want to share this with you all. Do you find it as funny as I do?

This was a cute little shop on the Upper West Side...

(The writing says, "In case it's difficult to read: West Side Cheese Company. Antiques Too)

What on earth does that little sign say? We'll be closed for the 4th of July holiday? We're out to lunch?

Small World

Here's the quick version of how I know Heather.

When we moved to the small town we live in we went exploring. It is a quaint town afterall. In this town there is a lovely antique shop. We got to talking with the proprietor one day and eventually became friends--a woman in her mid to late 50s. Subsequently, this woman's parents had moved from Vegas to our little town to be near their daughter and family because they were getting older. My hubby started doing handy man work for both families. We adore the older couple too.

A few months later, around Christmas, my brother was headed home for the holidays from NYC when he was chatting with a NY friend of his. He happened to mention that he was to be visiting his sister in their small little town outside of Lansing. When his friend inquired into the name of the town, her eyes grew big at his response. "That's the town my family lives in."

Turns out Heather my brother's friend, is the daughter of the antique store proprietor, the grand-daughter of the older couple.

Now, how small world is that?

A Bite of Irony

I was fortunate enough to meet up with an old friend yesterday. We went to high school together--he moved in our junior year, he reminded me--and even the same community college. We acted in the same shows and worked on the same sets in our theatre department. Yes, I'm a 'theatre' snob. You won't see me spelling it 'theater' unless I'm referring to the movie type.

We grabbed some lunch in Chelsea and then did a little walking around. Okay, I admit it, we were trying to find a cool, and by cool I mean cold!, spot for a nice drink. It was definitely a sweaty day here in the city. In our quest we happened upon a designer dog store. Did you know those existed? Me either. I believe somewhere I have mentioned that I'm a sucker all things small and furry so I couldn't pass up this display of cuteness. In the window were five or so puppies milling about playing with one another; chewing ears, kicking bellies, tail-wagging pounces. When we realized this store was air conditioned we hopped inside. Along the far wall of the building was a line of crates. In those crates were more puppies. And were they ever cute. I really could have rescued them all and taken them home. That is until I overheard the salesman (um, are you really called that when you work in a puppy mill???) tell another customer that the dog he had his eye on was, minus the $300 discount, now at a stunning $12,000 price point!

Bring your jaws back up to closed-mouth position, I have more to say.

All these dogs were miniature versions of their breed. The ones that caught my eye were the Australian Shepherds. And were they ever adorable. Like, stick one in your over-sized purse and run cute.

I will say, I did not take the best photos but I was seriously worried that the salesman was going to thwart me upside my head and confiscate my camera.

Really, did you not just contemplate finding this place and opening your purse and running?

On the way out of the store we looked at the window display pups from the inside. Here's where I think it's funny. There was this miniature dachshund playing with a cardboard/paper tray...you know, the ones you might get food from a ballgame or a fair in? One you might transport french fries, or a burger, or a hot dog?

By the time I fished my camera back out of my bag the little guy had moved a bit. The picture I intended was of the pup completely laying inside the tray. Like, "Order up!".
Clearly though this dog knew what was going on and he was telling the tray we he thought of that idea!

Completely changing gears here, remember me mentioning how my room view was going to change? It certainly did...and I love it. I'm guessing not many people would request a Broadway view with all the sights and sounds of NY...but I love it. My entire life living at my parents' house was street noisy. We lived next to a major interstate, not to mention one that is the main artery between Chicago and Detroit, and the hum of the cars lulls me to sleep at night. Here's the view from where I am now.

Tonight I'm off to dinner with another friend. Maybe when I get back I'll tell you the very small world story about how I know her. Au revoir!

Sunset

Bumpy Ride

I'm on the road again. I'm back in my favorite big city (in the US) and am currently holed up in my room avoiding raindrops.

My first flight this morning was on a teeny tiny airplane that went bumpity-bump-bump all the way across Lake Michigan. Once I arrived in the Windy City I had to hike from the F gates to the B gates. After, what seemed like forever, 45 minutes of waiting for a seat at the gate I finally managed to secure one facing a TV that was reporting about the storm outside Detroit last night. I only caught the tail end of the story when I heard, "...the gate for flight 689 with service to LaGuardia has now changed to gate B10". Which I should have known. The flight to Orlando, that was sharing our gate, had not begun to board because their plane had still not arrived from wherever.

I shuffled myself over to the next gate and sat down to enjoy my coffee and cinnamon scone. Across from me were two ladies enjoying apples and a view of the TV. Now, I'm a scone dipper. I like to break off pieces of my bakery treat and dip them into my hot cuppa joe. I was nearing the end of my breakfast when I happened to look up and realize that one of the ladies was still eating her apple a good five minutes after she started.

As I studied her, while trying not to stare, it looked as though she was just very slow and thorough in her apple eating. She even had a napkin tucked closely to catch any juicy apple drips.

Um, no. Not even close. She was taking a bite at a time, chewing the apple, and spitting back out the skin! I literally almost yacked my scone back up.

And then there was the cast of the traveling Wizard of Oz. How do I know they were the cast? They made sure to let everyone know. One gentleman (oh, excuse me, his sign clearly said he was a munchkin) was sporting a bright pink shirt and a gold lame fanny pack and was rather 'boisterous'.

Guess who sat behind me on the flight?

On this not-so-small plane the ride wasn't any smoother. We went bumpity-bump-bump over Lake Erie and all the way into the Big Apple. And then came the herky-jerky cab ride from LGA to the Upper West Side; I am certainly glad to be in a stationary position now.

In my short while here I've checked into the hotel--and checked out my view:

Which looked like this for about an hour. I could tell a storm was a'brewin' so I went for a quick bite to eat and some groceries (bottled water, grapes, Wasa crackers).

This is a Gray's Papaya...It was tasty...but not tasty enough to try again.

And when I got back my view looked like this:

Tomorrow my view should be completely different. Despite thinking this view is lovely, the size of room I have to endure to enjoy the scenery is not worth it. This girl packed her yoga mat and two workout dvds...I can't even spread the mat out in here. The oh so lovely and sweet ladies at the desk are going to move me into a bigger room tomorrow. Very very kind of them.

Now, what to do this evening...

A Regular Saturday Night

Right? Well, mostly.

Today was a normal day--yoga, breakfast, hanging out with the family, dinner, watching tv while the hubs plays a show, trying on my wedding dress...What?

Due to a combination of factors (really over the past two days) I got the bug to go revisit my wedding dress. I really started to worry that three years later I no longer loved my dress. In my head it looked dated and cheesy. There was really a moment that I was scared to look.

In between episodes of Say Yes to the Dress (yes, yes, okay--this show was my breaking point!) I tip-toed upstairs and snuck up on the oversized garment bag hanging in our spare room's closet.

A good 20 minutes later I had wrangled myself into my dress again (it's a lace-up-the-back kinda dress) and scooped up my camera for this momentous return-to-the-day photo op.

Although the pictures are cheesy and in terrible lighting I didn't think it would be very nice of me not to share.

Oh yeah, check out those hot tan lines!

So...Did I purchase a dress that could stand the test of time?

Did I still love it?

Absolutely!

Funk That

Remember that terrible song? I thought of it today as I got ready to take the dog for a walk. And it's my new proclamation. Funk That!

I am so sick and tired (and flippin' hot!) of hiding a body that I think is not attractive. I've been wearing long pants and jeans for YEARS hiding my legs and all the while I'm completely suffering.

When I was working out two days ago in our living room no one else was home yet there I was in my long black stretchy pants about to pass out from heat stroke. Are you kidding me? Why do I torture myself? Oh, because I might offend someone with my cankles and chunky legs.

So, it's time to get over it.

Yesterday I went to Wal-Mart (good, cheap workout clothes!) and purchased two new tanks and a pair of--get this--capri leggings. Not only do they not go to the floor, they're also skin tight. And I love them. I wore them to yoga last night (um, I did, however, wear my other black pants over them for the walk to the studio and back; baby steps people) and then today I wore them to workout. It was so much more comfortable and practical.

And after my workout (which is now the P90X Cardio, super good!) I took the dog for a walk--in my leggings. And it felt great.

I might not look so hot but I don't care. Why have I been worrying about everyone else in life and not my own comfort?

Funk that!

A Shirt

I have this shirt...

Since losing some weight I've been able to shop at "normal" clothing stores. And it's great. Well, mostly great. One store I shop at often tends to be snobbish and cold but what's a gal to do? (Yep, I know there are many things I could do...but I haven't)

This one shirt I really, really liked. I liked it on the hanger. I liked it on me more. But I did not like the price. And so I played the waiting game. You know, I'm getting good at that game. This time it paid off. A week later this shirt was 40% off. Nice.

Of course this shirt is blue tones...lovely blues that I don't often wear. So this presented the first set of problems, pants and shoes. What do I wear with this shirt?

After I got home I dug through my shoe cabinet. This literally is a cabinet that I shove my shoes into on a daily basis. I happened to have a lovely pair of bronze heels to rock with this shirt. But which pants? I found myself at a point where all my pants were either black or super big.

But, ah ha! I could wait until Friday. On Fridays we can wear jeans to work. That would be fantastic.

And so Friday finally came. Unfortunately for the record books, it happened to be this Friday. A Friday I'm sure I won't forget for a very long time. I remember thinking as I dressed that morning that this shirt was going to help me cope with the day. I'd look fantastic and feel the same despite what was happening inside me.

And all Friday long this shirt stuck with me. It kept me cool in the warm, humid, sun. It made me feel put together as I watched many a people walk past me in pajamas and other lounging clothes. Every once in a while I remembered the great deal I got on that shirt. And that was my problem...I put too much emphasis on this damn shirt.

Even now, one month past the whole ordeal, whenever I see this shirt that's all I can think of. The poor shirt is ruined to me. No matter what I try to pair it with, no matter how many times I try to convince myself it's just a part of my wardrobe, I only ever think of that Friday full of tears, red-stained cotton gauzed elbows, and a small, very small, loss (emphasis on the actual size...).

I really am passed all the emotional baggage of the event, but why am I still stuck on this stupid shirt?

New Beginnings

This post will be short and sweet. I know it's been forever since I've posted--egad, so out of a routine. Summer break has officially begun for me but I'm still finding myself busy.

This morning I woke up to the return of Aunt Flo. Perfectly on schedule. I was amazed. So, here I am, at the beginning of thinking about pregnancy again. It's exciting. Too bad there will be a very small window of opportunity for this right now. When I'm finally ovulating, I will be leaving for NY. Can I bottle that stuff up and bring it with me? Only kidding.

This morning I also started attending a yoga class. It was nothing like I expected and it was completely delightful. The others in the class were so kind and helpful. A friend of mine and I went together and my friend had never done yoga before. After class we all walked to breakfast together and continued having a great time. I'm looking forward to continuing this on a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday basis.

Now I must get ready for a wedding today. I'm going to be hostess/bartender extraordinaire. Let's hope the weather holds out.

Happy Saturday!

Walk

The pups and I went for a walk through downtown tonight. I took my camera along to snag some photos to be able to post in a thread that highlights your hometown. After some thinking, I decided to post the photos here seeming as though I have nothing better to say and the fact that I've been really lax in the photo posting department.

Welcome to my town. Enjoy!

Testing, Testing

I went back in for my beta hcg test on Wednesday. The way my doctor's office is set up involves me bypassing the regular waiting room and finding my way to a tiny sitting area just outside the lab. Unlike my previous blood draws, the door to the lab was closed and the note upon it prompted me to patiently wait in a seat and I would be helped soon.

As I sat there, I kid you not, three different pregnant women--all with husbands/boyfriends in tow--came bounding back for their ultrasounds. Without expecting it (but why would I?) I found myself sad. I think there was one quick moment where I could have cried. Was this my first test of strength? But then I remembered, someday that WILL be me too. I will drag my hubby along with me to the OB to share in the excitement of hearing baby's first heartbeat. Ahhhhh.

Then the door to the lab opened and there stood the tech who I had seen the other day. You know, the one who had no comment when I said, "I sure hope this one's better than the last".
But unlike last time with her, this poke was painful...and I think she nearly missed the vein because she said, "Uh oh", (yeah, thanks by the way...so comforting!) and when I looked over I saw my blood all spluttered in a tube and a very small amount in the vial. She literally had to look up how much blood was needed for this test to make sure she had enough. I was sweating bullets for a moment. Luckily, half a whatever (I can't remember how much it was) was enough. It literally took up half an inch at the bottom of the vial.

Then I had to wait. I'm not a big fan of the waiting game. However, waiting for this wasn't too bad. If my hormone levels were too high, I guess I'd be back in the same chair next week. If they were normal I'm off the hook.

I got the call this afternoon and then sat on hold for 14 minutes to hear, "Everything looks good. Your level came back at 3. We consider 5 normal".

So now I'm back to the waiting game. Waiting for Aunt Flo to show back up. Then waiting for her to go away and then show back up again and then back into the baby making frame of mind.

Of course it's not that simple. Remember those two little things that can put my monthly schedule into a tizzy? Well, I'm planning on one of those in exactly one month from tomorrow. And trust me, I don't plan when I'm going to be sick. It's back to New York for me for a week. Have I ever mentioned that I Heart NY? I really do. But having it put my schedule outta whack is going to suck. This year, however, I'm going to be in shape and maybe having that regular-ness will help out in other areas too.

But, either way-depending on when AF shows up for the first time (um, on my normal cycle or following the MC cycle plus the travel delay) I'm hopefully looking into a mid to late July try. I have my fingers and toes crossed. I know it won't be easy, it never is. I just wonder how much testing I can stand up to?

Hot Minute

Well, ("It's a deep subject", as my mom would say) it's been a long weekend. Maybe it's been more of a long month. For a hot minute I was pregnant. Really. One year and eleven months of trying to conceive and we finally did. It was exciting, scary, and unbelievable all at the same time. But alas, it was short lived.

I'm mainly writing about this to help myself digest everything but I suppose someone, somewhere, may learn a thing or two from our experience.

First off, I could hardly contain the fact that I was late. I'm rarely ever late. The only things that make me late are travel and sickness...neither of which I had experienced this month. I, amazingly, controlled myself enough to wait five days past my missed period before testing.

After a series of very faint positives on a Monday night, I resolved to retest the next morning. The digital stick said, "PREGNANT" and the Dollar Store (um, those things really do work well!) one clearly showed a blue plus sign.

Finally. Almost two years of trying, hoping, peeing on sticks to finally see pregnant. Me, I was pregnant. And when that actually sank in, it scared the shit out of me.

Tuesday morning I called my OB to schedule a blood test which I did late Tuesday afternoon. The hubs said he'd believe I was pregnant when it came from the doctor. So, I had to get the blood drawn. I hate needles and furthermore hate getting blood drawn from my body. But heck, if I were going to get a phone call in return telling me I was pregnant, it was worth it.

Wednesday afternoon, while in the computer lab with all 26 of my students and my dear friend the computer lab aide, I got the phone call. I answered the phone, smiling, anticipating the great news. When her tone didn't match mine, I immediately worried. From what I remember, this is what she said, "Your beta results show you're between one to two weeks pregnant."

Now, I'm no doctor, but I can do some math--and with the greatness of the Internet I'd already calculated a due date and all. "One to two weeks?"

"Yes."

"That can't be right (you know, because you can argue with a nurse and medical results), I'm at least five weeks along."

"Well, let's schedule you another blood test. If the levels rise, you're in good shape."

I don't remember much else of that conversation other than trying to excuse myself into the hallway to continue this awkward phone call only to find a colleague of mine standing there grading posters on the wall. How do you talk about this sensitive subject in front of others, especially when no one knows?!

Wednesday into Thursday were full of worry. I'm a realist. I'm definitely positive but when I'm given actual medical data, I can't help but think of what might be.

Thursday afternoon I returned for the blood test. On my way out, I made a comment like, "I sure hope this one's better than the last."

The lab tech said nothing. Not a good sign.

Thursday evening I cried all night long. I could feel it in my bones or rather, I couldn't feel it in my bones. I just knew.

Friday morning I woke up to spotting. In retrospect, I'm so glad I found out myself first, instead of having anyone else tell me. I snuggled in bed with the hubs before I left for work and told him the news. I cried a little bit more but pulled myself together for the commute to work.

When I got to work, I started bleeding. After walking my kids to their Special first thing in the morning, I noticed I had a voice mail. Again, not a good sign when the OB's calling you at 8 am.

I braced myself for the phone call and tried to talk myself out of crying. Worked like a charm, NOT.

Turns out this whole process is more complicated than just miscarrying. This included the doctor and also, and this was the hardest, telling my mom not only was I pregnant, but I was now miscarrying. Both my mom and dad were headed up for the weekend and by the time this all happened, they had already arrived. After getting through the initial news, it worked out well. My mom came with me the whole afternoon and we even had the chance to go grab some lunch.

I had to go see my Dr. first to go over some information, set up repeat blood tests (watching hormone levels drop), receive an exam--which never happened-thank goodness, and get the schedule of when we could try again. Since I didn't know my blood type I had to also head to our hospital for more blood work (have I mentioned how much I hate needles and blood work?!?) to find out if I was RH negative.

I left my Dr's office with a form for the blood test that read at the bottom, "STAT". Now, I know I'm okay, uncomfortable, but okay, so why stat? Turns out, long story short, if I happened to be RH negative I would have to receive a shot called "Rhogam" to further prevent my body from fighting off and rejecting any future pregnancies. But don't you think I'd know if I were negative?

Turns out, not so much. After two very painful pokes (a MISS on the first attempt, that was no fun) I returned to the waiting room, eyes full of tears, to my mom. I don't do well with needles, ahem, and with the additional pain of a student phlebotomist I could hold no more.

We waited in the lab for another hour and a half only to have a nurse call my name again as she held a small package. Sure enough, RH negative. Which meant, another needle.

And that was the last time I cried during this whole situation. Am I sad? Sure. Is it the end of the world? Nope. Am I getting right back up and back on the family planning wagon again? You betcha.

I'm a firm believer in things happening for a reason. This has been proven to me time and time again. I'm waiting for this one to be completely clear. I now know about the RH negative issue but I feel there may be something greater than that. Only time will tell.

But for one hot minute, I was pregnant.

Love

I can't believe I forgot to write about this before. I've seen many kinds of love in my life but I recently witnessed a new one.

I know the hubs loves our pup. I love our pup. But when Codie got home after her surgery recently, the hubs was very gentle and thoughtful of her needs.

After she woke up from her anesthesia-induced nap he decided to get dinner for her. He grilled her her own chicken breast.

This may not sound like much but knowing that the hubs won't cook unless he's begged, for him to open a package of chicken for her one piece, and to stand in the cool rain outside on the deck to make his puppy dinner...that was a new kind of love.

Five Months In

Well, I'm five months in and 28 pounds lighter..errrrr, scratch that, as of Monday morning I'm now 30 pounds lighter! I'm not at my final goal. Actually I'm about half way to my final goal. If I could, I would love to lose another 20-30 pounds. Summer is right around the corner too...will I be more energized to work harder? Will I fall to the free time I will have? Please don't let that happen, I beg of myself!
I'm now officially down one pant size and on my way to being down two. Some of my pants, after a few minutes of wearing them, slide down and are a bit uncomfortable. My shirts I'm wearing mostly larges and some mediums. That definitely feels nice.

I think soon I will need to evaluate my summer vacation workout plan. I would love to find a yoga class to go to. I can only do so many videos, sorry Bob and Jillian.
That's all for now. Have a great week!

Sentimental

The hubs and I went out to dinner this evening before his gig. As we pulled into East Lansing we thought we had made a mistake-it's Michigan State University graduation day. Yikes!

But we got fairly lucky when we number one, found a parking spot in downtown, number two got into the restaurant we were headed for just before the crowd, and number three really enjoyed our dinner.

On our first official date we went for Indian, Bombay Cuisine in Grand Rapids (pre remodel). I'm still quite sentimental about the images I have tucked in my memory from that night.
And when we moved to the Capital, we tried another Indian cuisine restaurant and about had a come-apart. Everything about that night was awful! But tonight we tried a new place, Mumbai, and it was delicious!

As we were sitting there, among the hoards of new graduates, our table was just behind a family of five. Very proud parents and two siblings all there congratulating the oldest girl. There was one moment, just before they ordered, where her parents asked her what her plan was now. From what I recall she said she was, "returning back to Dubai," and something to the effect of, "great booming economy," etc. After the girl stated her intentions the parents presented her with a gift. I'm not sure of the amount but it must have been quite nice, but she was given a check for all her hard work while she was here at school. I got the feeling they kept tucking money away as if she was being paid for doing a job while in school. The whole moment was amazing though. The parents explained how this was to get her on her feet and to start fresh in a new place.

I literally had to lower my head and concentrate on my Chicken Tikka to avoid crying. I'm not doing the moment any justice but to be a part of it all was lovely. Her parents were so proud of her and in return the girl was so grateful. Very touching.

On top of having a wonderful meal with my husband, I left that restaurant with an even better feeling. I'm excited to return but strangely, I'm more excited for that girl's family and their future.

Squidgy

That's my word. Squidgy. To me it means soft and pudgy around the edges. Like my body.

It seems no matter how much weight I lose, I still feel squidgy.

I was SURE today as I got on the scale there was going to be a 2 pound uppage in weight. I was SHOCKED when the scale was down three more pounds. That's right-I'm now officially 195.6 which is down 28.2 pounds. That's really close to thirty. So close I can almost taste it.

It seems as though I'm a long-term gal. The more I keep going the better it gets. I definitely think the yogging is helping. And tonight, despite my miserable allergies, I will be yogging again.

I will take pictures soon because I'm having a hard time believing it too.

Hey Baby (errr Babies!)

So our friends welcomed their twin boys on Friday morning. There are many amazing things about this birth. One of them happens to be that the mother-to-be went 39 weeks carrying twins. I'm convinced she could have made it 40 weeks but they had (by doctor's orders) scheduled the c-section at that time.

Secondly, the boys came out weighing 6 lbs 6 oz and...wait for it...8 lbs! Unreal. She was literally carrying two fully grown single pregnancy babies in there.

The hubs and I went to the hospital today to visit. And boy, they are perfect. Right now, they look nothing alike. They were both ultra sweet and fell asleep in my arms-such a lovely feeling.

So, that's one friend pregnant with twin boys down, one more to go. This week this second set of friends will find out how much longer they are supposed to go. I think full term she'd deliver in June. Not far off at all.

Our weekend was full of family and babies. What about yours?

Post Surgery

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers for my pupper. She did famously well. Although, she's still groggy and a bit wobbly from the anesthesia-but I'm super glad to have her back.

Turns out she has a fungal infection in a couple of her nails too which was making the situation worse. So, this poor dog is literally going to be on six different medicines for a few weeks.

When I picked her up she had water lines streaming from the corners of each eye. To me it looked as though she were crying. Which made me cry. Yep, I've officially cried three times this evening. Two involving the dog and one involving a talk with the hubs about my desire to be a mother. Yeah, that was pretty.

I'm off to drown my sorrows in a bowl of edamame. And to find some good Thursday night television. Ciao all.

Surgery

When I came home from work tonight I held my usual routine. Codie and I headed outside to toss the ball around and then I noticed, she was limping. And not just limping a little bit, she was certainly nursing her front paw and when standing, was keeping it elevated.

Off to the local vet we went. By the time we got there her paw began bleeding. Turns out she has extra long Quicks-the fleshy stuff under her nails-which does a combination of things. But the end result is that her nails split, bleed, and get infected.

Thursday she will go back to the vet for surgery. Anesthesia, breathing tube, the whole shebang. I'm slightly nervous about the whole process. She is my baby after all.

So, say a couple of puppy prayers for her if you will. Let's hope I can make it through the day without tears.