It's official - I have a parasitic growth in my belly.

Yep, I'm pregnant.

Whew, now that that's off my chest (well, really on it, cause - dang - these girls are growing), what else is new?

Actually, I've been waiting for 5 years now to be able to get to this point in a pregnancy and be able to tell the world. With Elle it was totally unexpected, as any pregnancy that comes with two forms of birth control usually is, and I kept the pee stick in my purse as a daily reminder that my life was totally over. Heck, I was 23, working in a bar, and working on a whole new body to keep up with Jeffrey, Mr. Universe over here. A baby? Now?! But then she came and changed my world in so many ways I could never have imagined, changed me as a person, and I could never be happier as she sucked the life out of my breasts and breathed new purpose into my life.

After a year's stint on Depo Provera, I would spend the following two years trying to replicate this little joyful package. To no avail. 'Keep trying, it'll happen' turned into 'let's try this pill' and then 'why don't you take a double dose' which turned into 'you need to see a specialist' and even better 'Jeff needs to see a specialist'. After everything, it turned out that I was not ovulating every cycle, and that Jeff, while his sperm count was high (yes, dear, I'll make sure I note that), had lacadasical swimmers (no surprise here). So, not a serious malfunction on either side, definitely not impossible for fertilization, but we would have to work on it to make it happen. So yeah, piped-in hormones, padded boxers around Elle, and thermometors galore later, I peed on a stick and got the digital "Pregnant" that before had shattered my 'life' - but that day made my world.

Before even my first OB appointment I had already told my mom, my sisters, my sister-in-law, my best friend (who was also pregnant), and thought of many cute ways to announce to the world that we were having a new little baby. I bought books, I joined message boards, I weighed myself every day. Barely even a blastocyst, and this kid inside of me already had room specs and a list of possible names and a mom so ready to be pregnant, so anxious to sing lullabies to her tummy, and have a baby bundle cuddled to her chest, and a little toddler to say 'sissy' as their first word. This time it was going to be so different. I was a pro, right? I had been taking prenatal vitamins since before I even went off birth control. I knew my body inside and out. I had read every possible how-to book and had even started a journal to my little unborn bean. Nothing could stop me from being the best damn mommy ever!

Except what happened next. My first appointment went well, and the doctor wanted to take a quick look by ultrasound to see if he could give me a due date. Well, it looked like my dates were off. I probably just ovulated later than I thought, because there was no fetal pole, just a gestational sac. Come back in a week. Oh, okay. A week later, there was a fetal pole, but it still wasn't looking like the dates were just right. Another week . . . same thing. A little growth, but not enough. No heart beat yet. I remember talking to Jeff - he was out of town for a science convention - and he reassured me that everything was going to be okay. I went to a Chief's game on that Sunday with Jeff's dad - who still didn't know I was pregnant - and went to the bathroom and saw all the blood. Told him we had to leave - not that he minded - and called Jeff's mom on the way to the hospital to see if she could keep Elle. (Not the best time to tell your in-laws you're pregnant, I must admit) Was diagnosed with threatened miscarriage and told to go home and rest. The doctor will call me in the morning. I couldn't bring Elle to school, so she stayed with me the next day. My doctor's office called and asked me to come in to just check on everything. I had to take Elle. She sat in the room with me while he examined me and asked the doctor if he could see my baby. Right before he sent me over for an emergency D&C. She sat in the waiting room by herself waiting for my brother-in-law to come pick her up and they whisked me away after signing papers into the OR and put me on a table with a big hole in it and told me to count to 10.

I don't know how long it took. I woke up in a room with a guy sitting in a chair close to my bed - I guess to make sure I was alright. I sat there for a good hour or 90 minutes feeling absolutely empty. Absolutely empty. It sucked.

I didn't have anyone to drive me home. I didn't have anyone to hold me when I got there. I couldn't share this grief with my little girl. I was alone. I couldnt' call my mom. I didn't want to talk. The next two months were horrible. The people who knew I was pregnant kept asking me how it was going, the people who knew I had miscarried kept looking at me with pity, the people who knew about neither would ask what was wrong. I went through every scenerio about what I could've done, what my doctor could have done, what my husband should have done. I spent time on more message boards - but these were not as fun, I sought advice but didn't listen to any of it, I felt stupid for missing something SO much that I never had to begin with.

Jeff never understood. I think men are lucky to live outside of that world, but also I feel bad that we don't always let them in. He just said we'd keep trying. That we'd have our baby. But I wanted that baby. I wanted THAT one - and he never felt the loss, it was just another bump in the road to him. It was a relief that we had gotten pregnant, now it was my mission to stay pregnant.

Over the next two and half years, I spent a fortune on pregnancy tests, learned all I could learn about cervical mucus (I know, it keeps getting better . . . ), got educated about my body and read horror stories and success stories alike, felt closer to Jeff some days, felt as far away as ever others. Would get positive pregnancy tests only to start bleeding the next day, would wonder for months in a row why I couldn't get pregnant and then realize you have to have sex to have a baby, would try to go on with life while totally distracted by thoughts of baby and how much I needed one, would totally forget for days - for weeks - that I did. I lost other babies, but only had one other D&C. Elle was such a joy, I was kind of resigned to have an only child. Reading about all these women who tried for so long and hoped, and even lost hope, of ever having their own child, I felt guilty and ashamed for being so greedy. Listening to all those women who call themselves Fertile Myrtle because they have 3 kids after years of sex with no barriers, or people telling me that I will have a child when I'm meant to, or seeing the crackheads on Cops who get one of their 12 kids back after selling them for some rock really became unbearable - and if you are any of those people, no offense intended, it's just not fun to be your friend. (Except you, crackhead, it's really fun to be your friend.)

But anyways, this has become a really long story when I just meant it to be a quick little note. . . it's nice to be able to say that I'm pretty sure I will have a baby in a little less than 6 months. No worries about heart beat speed, or growth rate, or ugliness (already the cutest little alien). This one came unexpectedly again, and I guess that's the way my body likes it. I'm due on my birthday, but if the baby's a day late, I promise to name it Margarita . . . boy or girl.