A special post: What successful pregnancy finally looks like.

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Guys (and probably more gals), I am so ridiculously, over-the-top, unbelievably happy to be able to FINALLY share with you our sweet baby girl Evelyn Rose! She is literally the center of my universe and my heart could not be more full.

Like any new parent, there are days that are difficult and frustrating and all of those things that parents warn you about before you have children. Finally sharing all of those old, heart wrenching, secretly written, blog posts about the journey that finally led us to this beautiful baby really helps keep everything in perspective. It has really allowed me to fully appreciate, and want to cry tears of joy, at just how far we've come. I hope for any of you who may also be similarly suffering, whether it's openly or in silence, that our story of struggle has given you a shred of hope. Just because you feel despair today certainly does not mean that you will tomorrow.

Okay, so the details... since I stopped blogging and ended the story short. And ps. I really did stop blogging. There were no blog posts written, even in secret, from that point forward, which was sooo difficult at times. Especially once I got pregnant. I wanted to write all about it, to document every moment of every day, but for fear of jinxing myself, withheld. So anyway, here goes...

First of all, let me state right upfront for those of you who don't believe in psychics, guess which month I found out I was expecting? That's right...April! We had gone ahead with the 2 planned rounds of IUI and unfortunately still found my womb empty. I'm not sure what hubs and I would have done after the 2nd unsuccessful attempt if my family hadn't literally come in and saved the day. On an ordinary day like all others, in the mail, I received a touching poem about family from my own mom, dad and sisters, along with a check written from each of them, for a sum total which allowed us to move forward with a third IUI attempt. It was such an amazing and thoughtful contribution, made so much more beautiful by the fact that it was this third attempt which brought us Evelyn Rose. My heart swells just thinking about it. If that isn't God's love at work, I don't know what is.

On a lighter note, my sister likes to now joke that she owns 1/4 of my daughter. (insert laughter)

On a weirder note, in April, an omen from God showed up at our front door in the form of Parent's magazine. Don't believe me? I thought it such a good luck charm at the time, that I actually photographed it, seen here for your viewing pleasure!

There were some noticeable differences with our third attempt, perhaps worth mentioning to those also trying IUI. First and foremost, since this was, to the best of our knowledge, our last go at IUI, I decided to go all in. I called off "sick" from work that morning so that after the office visit I could go home and do nothing but lie on the couch all day, which is exactly what I did. Was it this that made the difference? I don't know but it's the only time I tried this tactic. Speaking of the office visit, it just felt right. If the first IUI attempt was nerve-wracking, the second disheartening (the office was jam packed and the lady next to me was older and on her last IUI attempt), than the third time was perfect. I had the first appointment at the office. I was the first patient in the door. The morning felt serene and calm and everything you want when you're trying to make a baby. Ok.. and this is where it gets a little bizarre.

At the time, perusing online forums to read about other people's IUI experiences wasn't entirely foreign to me. On one, a girl had mentioned that her doctor had difficulty inserting the catheter (sorry, TMI?) and that ended up being her successful month. So, back to me.. guess what happened that third try? Yep, me and my "curvy cervix" as my doctor liked to joke, gave him lots of issues that morning and resulted in him having to try to get it right multiple times. But hey, it worked! You know me and my signs... :)

Lastly, hubs and I abstained from, uh-hem...the deed, after the IUI. Previous months we'd made sure to supplement with our own natural methods but I decided to switch things up as much as possible for our last attempt.

Perhaps it was just the odds of happening or all of the above.. the overwhelming feeling of support from my family, the serene morning, my extra curvy cervix (right timing?), lying vertical for an entire day, or the absence of certain extra-curricular activities... but either way, God blessed us with Miss Evelyn Rose that month and I will be forever grateful.

And so.. here begins my blog transformation from trying-to-conceive to what-is (oh, and with it a whole bunch more photos!).

As a side note: Please bare with me for a little here if my posts are a bit more sporadic. We currently have our belongings in three separate areas (or 4) if you count two storage units, short term housing and our new apartment. Unfortunately sorting out life may be a bit more demanding than updating blog posts, especially since we only have internet currently at one location. I will do my best to get on a more regular schedule once things have settled down a bit! Thanks in advance for your patience!

Au revoir, originally written February 21st, 2014.

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February 21, 2014

So, all of those things the psychic said that were too sensitive in nature that I was unwilling to share earlier. Well, for your viewing pleasure.. here they are!

She said again that she saw us having 2-3 children. It was the first question I asked, eager to confirm if she still saw kids in our future. Later in the conversation, she said she saw 2 and that 3 would be a strain (just like she did over a year and a half ago!).

I'm supposed to give up pulling out clothing from the washer. Wet towels etc. NOT good for my uterus. She said, starting Feb. 27th (such a funny an exact date!), hubs is supposed to start doing all of the laundry. He was THRILLED to hear that one!

No exercising. Not even the treadmill, because according to Valerie, I'm at such a high risk of miscarrying. I promptly cancelled my gym membership yesterday.

She said to prop my rear end on a pillow after the good deed, and wait 15 minutes. I stupidly have been laying on my stomach thinking it would help with the whole forward tilted uterus bit. But oh no. I got quite the scolding from Valerie on that one. Everything falls out that way! HAHAHA (Ladies, you can appreciate that sentiment!)

I'm supposed to ask my doctor about acid reflux, because I'm still suffering from it and she said it's not good for the sperm. And she said to drink a glass of milk as soon as I feel it coming on.

She mentioned my miscarriage was a baby girl, which is what she told me last time I spoke to her too. Two girls maybe? But she mentioned that my father in law is in heaven holding them and that not all babies are meant to come down here. Some go back to heaven.

Hubby will apparently make a very good father. No surprise there!

At first she said that I would be pregnant again on or before August. Later in the conversation (much to my glee) she said that April looks like a very strong month. I vote for April!

She agreed that IUI was a good idea and mentioned that I have a very good, determined doctor.
Stressed again, no heavy lifting! And she said to meditate by picturing my belly getting bigger and bigger. Positive thinking! And to leave the door open to the room I've picked out for the nursery in our house. Both things I already do.. which is quite impressive she picked up on!

When I tried asking her more about our move (to a supposedly warmer area), she said that we'll chat about that later, after we have a child. That kind of makes me think we'll have the baby in Cincinnati, yes? That makes me VERY happy indeed :)

And then she told me to stop blogging. That a blog full of dead babies in NOT channeling positive energy into my life. She was quite adamant about this one. And I guess, in hindsight, it kind of makes sense. As much as this forum has been a great tool to vent, to document and to dissect, it also represents my struggle, the long road we've had to travel, and some very painful memories, all piled up into one neat place. So, unfortunately I think this is goodbye. For now. I still hope to one day reveal all of these innermost thoughts and experiences of mine to the world. But hopefully the next baby post I write will include a picture of our adorable, giggly, pudgy, healthy baby.
Au revoir everyone!

An emotional update, originally written February 17th, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

Monday February 17, 2014

Sometimes I cringe writing the date. There was a time when I thought the year wouldn't be necessary, but alas, here we are...in 2014.

So, a gut check on how things have been going. I'd say, overall, it's going pretty well all things considered. I am, of course, thinking about the possibility of being pregnant about every 2 minutes seconds. I have over analyzed the fact that my face feels drier this month and my boobs haven't sprouted to herculean sizes yet like they usually do this close to the start of my period. Or the slight bouts of anxiety I've had at night. All potentially good signs. Maybe.

I've never had typical pregnancy signs in the past that cued me into the possibility of being pregnant. The first time around, way back when I was a newbie, it was the lack of PMS symptoms that made me test the night before my period was due. It was such a "Huh. That's weird. I don't even feel like I'm about to start!" moment. I bought a test and didn't even wait until morning. Just took it right then and there in the middle of the afternoon after drinking a fair amount of water not that much earlier. And guess what? It didn't matter. That test was glaringly, surprisingly, positive. The only pregnancy signs I started to notice came a week or so later. Feeling nauseous (but never actually having to go through with the act), dandruff and dry skin, heavy and hot sleep, nightmares and being uncomfortable in my regular bed.

The second time around, as I'm sure you've read by now, was a little more comical. There was dropping the test and the faint positive. But even before that, I had noticed the dandruff again. I had one night where I woke up in the middle of the night with heart pounding and the worst anxiety I've felt in a very, very long time. The following day, I went to a football game and drank some wine. The hangover was awfullllll and didn't match at all with the quantity of consumption. I remember getting excited. I was feeling a little off. This was a good sign. Next, my boobs went from completely normal to extremely painful overnight and I started getting headaches and having heartburn. And then the positive. Before the miscarriage, the only clue I had that it was coming were some slight cramps I felt after taking a 2.5 mile walk. A week later, I woke up one morning to my face slick with oil, like I usually experience the week before my period. A few days later, it was an obvious no go.

I'm very proud of the fact that this month I've successfully avoided taking my temperature. I officially know, only down to a window of 4 days, that I ovulated because of a morning temperature I took last Monday. So I've survived a whole week. I'm closing in on the finish line. It's within arm's reach.

My chat with Valerie the psychic is happening tomorrow night. Originally, I anticipated wanting to take a test tomorrow morning so I would know before our conversation what the result of my IUI was this month. What's the point in asking a whole bunch of questions about getting pregnant if I already am? Or, conversely, if I don't take the test, will I be crushed when I read into her answers about getting pregnant in the future and surmise that it didn't happen this month. Would I rather a test tell me that I'm not pregnant or a psychic?

Ultimately, I've decided not to test. I know myself well enough to know that I won't trust the results even if I do. There's no way I can say with certainty how many days past ovulation I am, other than to assume the latest possible scenario. That would mean I would only be 8dpo today and testing at 9dpo is pretty unreliable. In a desperate attempt to hold on to hope, I would likely just convince myself a test later in the week would give me the result I want to see. So basically, I might as well save my money.

Well actually, if you must know, the money has already been spent. There's a three pack of tests sitting in my bathroom as we speak. I don't possess that much control. Ha.

So, the question then becomes, how long will I be able to hold out? I've been feeling an uncharacteristic urge to hold off as long as possible. I kind of like this hope thing. Why rush to dash all of my dreams? Is it sad that I've begun to analyze which day I will be able to handle the disappointment best?

If I test Friday and it's negative, it's at least still Friday. I can indulge my feelings of sadness in a bottle of wine guilt free.

But if I test Thursday and it's positive, that gives me enough time to call the pharmacy and pick up my prescriptions by Friday. As soon as I find out I'm pregnant, I have to start daily injections of a blood thinner and progesterone to try and avoid another miscarriage. If I have to wait, I know there will be a lot of anxiety that I'm putting everything at risk.

The getting pregnant part is only half the battle after all. The real batter starts once I see those two lines.

If this post reads as negative, know that in actuality I'm feeling pretty positive about everything. Well, tentatively positive. I still feel stupid writing a post like this knowing that there's a very good chance that I'm not pregnant. Let's hope that doesn't happen.

Closeted fantasies, originally written February 12th, 2014.

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February 12, 2014

ROSYRILLI.COM Closeted fantasies

I have a secret stash. I'm pretty positive I'm not the only one either. Should you find yourself in a similar situation as I (aka, not "falling pregnant" overnight), I highly suggest the closeted baby room. Literally, the baby room in a closet. In my defense, I've been pregnant twice now, brief stints that they were, and most purchases were made in a flurry during those times. Most.

I may have mentioned it before (who can keep track with all of these baby posts piling up in hiding for so long!?), but when I was young, I remember wanting to start a baby bin. I thought it would be brilliant to start stockpiling clothing, pacifiers, baby bottles etc. so that one day, when motherhood was upon me, I would be fully prepared. Basically, I was an aspiring hoarder. Luckily, those thoughts stayed swirling in my mind and no purchases were ever made. BPA free didn't even exist back then, right?

So that brings me to today. Or yesterday, to be more specific. I found myself uncharacteristically nonchalant about this whole baby making business. I know my hormones enough to realize that such an easy, breezy blah feeling is only a short hop, skip and jump away from feeling very, very low. Blame it on the progesterone. It gets me every month so that by the time Auntie arrives, I'm as Negative Nancy as it gets.

In an attempt to combat the blues, I sprung for this little gem:

ROSYRILLI.COM Closeted fantasies
Serena & Lily, Hanna Anderson Chevron Bodysuit in Sprout found HERE.

I know. I know. Am I just torturing myself more? Will this just depress me further if our IUI was unsuccessful? I'm not sure. Probably. But for right now, I still want to grasp that little bit of excitement that comes with the experience of trying something new. Maybe THIS will finally be the answer. And as I told a friend yesterday, whether it's this month or some random month two years from now, I know in my heart of hearts that it'll happen. I will make usage of this colorful onesie!

And then there was one, originally written February 7th, 2014.

See the disclaimer here.

February 7, 2014

My 12 day ultrasound went down (pun intended) two days ago. It was a wreck of a morning which involved little sleep (for unrelated reasons), lots of snow and ice on the ground, and a rapidly increasing sense that I was going to be awfully late for the appointment... which to my great surprise I was not. The office was quiet, probably from cancellations, but I was happy enough to be there and to see, once and for all, what my ovaries have been up to these past two weeks.

My left ovary came out the winner, with one follicle measuring 22mm, whatever that means. I had two other follicles, one on each ovary, measuring 10 and 13 or some such numbers, inconsequential from what I was told. So there you have it. One strong winner. Although, with the meds I was on, I think my doctor was hoping to see more contenders. Next month, should we have to cross that bridge (fingers crossed, we do not), he's upping my dosage from days 3-7 to 3-9 to see if I respond better. All it takes is one good egg, just one!, so I decided to run with it. And so, the decision to move forward with the IUI was born.

Which brings me to this morning. I have officially, medically, been inseminated!!! They went ahead and put those little swimmers exactly where they need to be and, from what I was told, hubs did good on his portion of the deal and provided a very pretty specimen. So, we're off to the races folks. I didn't take the trigger shot, per my doctor's suggestion. I'm not sure if it had to do with me only having one egg or the fact that ovulation has never really (thankfully) been my issue. Regardless, it makes it a little hard to pinpoint exactly when ovulation is going to occur. I'm putting faith right where it belongs though and trying to keep my little googling fingers at bay from researching all kinds of questions (like how long sperm will live after IUI or whether there are instances of ovulation being prolonged because of the meds I'm on). I'm also following doctor's orders not to use any ovulation predictor kits and to discontinue taking my temperature. I officially have no idea when I'm going to ovulate and I officially am kind of happy about it. I know it would just lead me to over analyze and stress and pluck out perfectly good hairs from my head (kidding about that last one). Besides, knowing doesn't do anything. It won't change the outcome.

And regardless, I plan on supplementing the IUI with natural methods anyway. Wink wink. So now it's just a sit back, gingerly, and await the results kind of show.

Oh, and PS. in case you're wondering, no I did not request, nor did hubby insist, that he be there to witness the miracle that is insemination. I must not be sentimental (no surprise there) because there was absolutely no part of me that yearned for him to be sitting there awkwardly (for that was bound to be the case) watching while another man poked and prodded my lady parts with a catheter. I think if we were doing IVF, and it felt like someone was actually putting a baby in there, I'd have felt differently. But this is just sperm. It certainly doesn't guarantee a pregnancy and it was all just very weird and science-y. Which now that I think about it, maybe my husband would have appreciated, considering he's a scientist..

On a lighter note, a family member asked me whether I was going to give a helping hand to hubby this morning during his baby making adventures. I had to laugh. And for those wondering whether or not I did, the answer is an astounding no. Let the poor man enjoy himself for once!

Hopeless optimism, originally written February 7th, 2014.

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February 7, 2014

I'm bubbling over with excitement. The devil on my shoulder, who whispers about realistic expectations, statistics and all other means of deflating my pretty red balloon, has been kept away for today. In fact, I'm celebrating this evening with an indulgence of pizza, soda (which I rarely consume) and a good movie, all in my pj's and the great company of my husband.

This morning I shuttled the specimen to the office, tucked under my coat and wrapped in a scarf I had previously warmed up around my neck. I felt like I was toting a precious gift. When I got into the room and was told afterwards to lay still for 10 minutes, I gazed at the blank ultrasound and pictured a small beating heart. Comforting is the only word I can use to describe it.

I'll never get a do-over. There's only one first IUI experience and so far mine has been lovely. The hopeless optimism overflowing today is amazing and such a welcome treat against the stark reality and disappointment of so many months. I know it could all vanish in two weeks with the sight of one lonely line, but for now I'm basking in the possibilities of the future.

It's beautiful and new and I'm loving it. You'd swear I was already pregnant from the way I feel like I'm carrying around a special present in my belly. Already.

Inspiration struck at 4:41 am, originally written February 1st, 2014.

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February 1, 2014

I woke up from a random dream, of which I will not bore you the details, save to say that it involved artwork of mine being purchased. I awoke with a start at 4:41 Friday night Saturday morning, not longing to sell artwork but make artwork. Specifically, watercolors. First a sketch, pencils to paper, and then the paintbrushes. Randomly, at this not so decent hour, I decided upon a watercolor of the nursery and was so excited by the thought that I started planning out how I would design it all in my head, gaining new ideas by the second. It was so random, but such a strong feeling, that I actually found it difficult to fall back asleep. And then, the next morning, I decided to go actually buy the supplies I'd need, because, well... I haven't actually picked up a paintbrush to watercolor, oh, in say... 10+ years.

ROSYRILLI.COM Nursery inspiration sketch
ROSYRILLI.COM Nursery inspiration sketch
ROSYRILLI.COM Nursery inspiration sketch

Drum roll please... originally written January 28th, 2014

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January 28, 2014

So for those of you who have been anxiously sitting on the edge of your seats, patiently waiting to see if I am indeed pregnant or not. I..... [drum roll please] .......









am not. Sorry folks. No exciting, celebration worthy news here. Which means, onto the next level of infertility we go. We're "official" now. Well, I am anyways. Three months of $ free trying are over. Now we're bringing out the bad boys and paying for this sh*t.

And so, my forte into the world of infertility drugs begins. It still seems not quite right to me somehow. Infertility. I'm still so clearly in denial... but eagerly gobbling up my daily serving of Femara (a drug used for fertility). Next week to the day, I'll be shelling out some of that moolah I've been harboring in my baby fund for an ultrasound which should tell me how my ovaries are functioning. I'm praying like hell that those little guys.. or girls, are producing lots of shiny beautiful eggs ripe for the picking. And then, hubby gets to provide an, um, you know.. sample and off we go out of the gate. IUI here we come. I've made peace with it all. Or am trying to anyway. I'm still a little bitter that other people get to spend their money on new clothing, home decorations, vacations etc. and I get to spend all of mine on... doctor's appointments. But ya know, what'rya gonna do?! Life aint fair as they say. We're giving it two months. That's all I have before my savings are mostly depleted. If it hasn't worked out by then, we'll have to re-assess whether we want to continue shelling out cash for said baby dreams. I'm not so sure I'm ready to dig that deep in my pockets yet. I must say two months sounds perfect to me. First, it gives each ovary a fair shot at the game. Wouldn't want to be discriminatory or anything ya know. And secondly, it gives me a little de-stress, back up policy. There's not so much stress placed on this one and only shot we have.. because we have TWO golden tickets. So we'll see. Fingers and toes crossed as usual.

I also did something I've put off doing for over a year. I called my favorite psychic lady for a little tete-a-tete time. She did, after all, predict with accuracy my last pregnancy and had provided me tips on getting there. Amazingly, in the few minutes I chatted with her to set up the appointment, which isn't until next month, she remembered everything she had told me last time and was asking whether I was sticking to her suggestions. Which I wasn't. I felt like a child stammering my excuses but it also gave me a huge amount of hope that maybe this isn't so out of reach after all. She also, to my total excitement, joked that by the time I have my appointment with her I'll probably already be pregnant and won't even need the appointment. Not looking too much into that little tid bit because there's always a tendency for her to flip flop between polite, normal human communication and her psychic abilities and it wasn't quite obvious which she was using.. or being.. or whatever.

So between the good doc and my other worldly adviser, I really have some high hopes for myself and hubby. And don't let me fool you. This might seem all lighthearted and whimsical but I actually cried in church this weekend. It was quite embarrassing really. The tears and sniffling came out of nowhere. Well maybe not completely nowhere. The pastor told a sad story about his dog, followed by the story of someone dying and the image of Jesus weeping. I won't get too far into it but it was followed by a series of questions. What's burying you? What trouble is making you doubt? And it just seemed so clear that I've been burying myself in this tantrum I'm throwing. I'm the two year old on the floor screaming out to God that I want that baby and he's the mature adult telling me to be patient, or that maybe there are other things out there better for me or that I need to grow up and learn some lessons first. Whatever the reason, he's the adult and I'm the demanding child and it's just so not working for me. And it was just such an overwhelming moment because I was having a very similar conversation with my husband the night before. So Sunday, it really hit me hard. It was like the Pastor could have been speaking directly to me out of the crowd. I can't pretend this isn't a huge battle. A huge fight I'm trying to battle and to come to terms with every moment of every day. So that was that. I cried in church. We'll see where those tears eventually lead me but I'm definitely moving forward. One foot in front of the other on this journey.

Ups and downs, originally written January 22nd, 2014.

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Forewarning: Get ready for a some lingo that only serious trying-to-conceivers use! It's like trying to learn a different language when you first start. I'll try to walk you through it gently, I promise. 

January 22, 2014

I don't want to give the wrong impression with all of my positive, inspirational ramblings that swirl around this blog. I still have bad days.

I think I've done an okay job (I hope) of portraying both ups and downs through different posts on this site but it's important to note the fluctuations. Some days I wake up to the sun shining on everything and than there are the other days, when all I can see is clouds, and it's a struggle to let any rays come streaming through the grey. And many days, in fact, go all topsy turvy on me and one minute is bright and the other dark and gloomy. It just depends on the day. And probably my hormones.

So in an effort to be transparent, here's a little preview of my week so far. All was going well, as probably seen through my last post, when boom, out of nowhere my temperature plummets on 9 dpo (days past ovulation). That's never happened to me in the 5 months I've been taking my temperature so I was immediately, secretly, very happy. Implantation dip anyone? I was so anxious to see the next morning's temperature, wanting to will it back up to confirm my hypothesis that implantation had occurred, that I swear to you I couldn't sleep. It's like all of the anxiety that I've kept at bay for the last month decided to linger on this one morning. And alas, my temperature did leap back up, but no higher than any of my other post-ovulation temperatures (meaning it probably wasn't implantation). I was immediately crushed... until I did a lot of googling to reassure myself that this can happen and still result in that allusive BFP (big fat positive). THEN I did a very, very bad thing. I used my one and only pregnancy test. I should have known better. Really. I mean, really? After all of these months, I should know that no matter how much I reassure myself beforehand that I can still be hopeful after seeing a negative, I really can't. It just makes me tailspin into a world of doubt.

And that brings me to now.

ROSYRILLI.COM Fertility friend app

My thoughts are circular these past few days. They go a little something like this:

I had that huge dip. Maybe it was implantation. I wouldn't be able to even get a positive for a few days after anyway. What was I thinking taking that stupid test so early? I'm suuuure in a few days it will be different. I can't wait. I'll be sooo excited if it's positive. Maybe I can hold out until Friday. Imagine the cute ways I could announce it to hubby. Ugh, what am I thinking!? I already know what Friday will bring. The same thing the past few months have brought and then I'll be devastated all weekend. But hey, at least I can drink and work out in peace! That dip was probably just me taking my temperature wrong somehow. Stupid dip. Well, or maybe it really waaas something. I've never, ever, EVER had something like that before. But today it went back down. It should be getting higher, right?! Definitely not pregnant. And I think I feel cramps anyway. Wait, is that maybe good? No. Bad. Definitely bad. Don't I usually feel kind of crappy and gross before I get my period? I'm so getting my period. This sucks.

I'd love to actually have a little counter. Like maybe God could ding every time I think about my temperature during the course of a day. I bet the numbers would be staggering. And embarrassing, considering no matter how much I analyze or reassure myself, it won't change what's happening. It either happened or it didn't. Sometimes I think of all the months that I play this same game for the week before my period and I'm so sad at the thought that it was all for nothing. Here I am, hoping there's some microscopic cell form floating down to bury into my uterus, and really there was nothing. The sperm never even made it. It's pitiful how much hope I cling to and how sure you can sometimes feel.

My mom yelled at me the other night for calling it a failure. But how else can you describe the crushing feeling you feel after every month? It was a failure. A failed attempt at getting pregnant. There's no sense in beating around the bush. It's just that.

And so, I'm pretty sure, regardless of my temperatures teasing me this month, that I am not, in fact, pregnant. I feel a little sad knowing this deep down. Sad for myself for still trying to hope. But then, a woman stopped by today at my office and explained she had her baby inside her car and could only pop in for a second. She was older. Like, visibly older. And she would NOT stop mentioning her new baby. And as per usual, I started to feel that ugly tinge of jealousy. Like really?! This older lady can do it and I freakin' can't. And then something happened. She mentioned her baby was adopted. And suddenly, without a blink of an eye, my heart overflowed with tenderness for this lady. Clearly she was a new mommy and just couldn't stop talking about her new baby, a baby that she had probably worked sooo hard, harder than I ever have, to meet. Sometimes adoption seems like a lovely option. It's like the light at the end of the tunnel telling me that I can still possibly have a baby, if I want it bad enough. If all else fails, I can still end up with a baby. It's never not a possibility, me, having a family. And that really is reassuring. 

Misery loves company. So don't answer the door., originally written January 17th 2014

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January 17, 2014

Has it been awhile since my last post? Oh my.

Why yes, it's an entirely new year. When did that happen?!

Like so many others, I have found myself succumbing to the temptations of a little life makeover. A lifestyle makeover, if you will. Count us in as those annoying gym go-ers that join in January. Guilty as charged. But we didn't stop there. We also rid ourselves of cable. Entirely. No cable in our household. No sirree! You'd be amazed at all of the productive things I end up doing when coming home and plopping my skinny little ass on the couch in front of the tele isn't an option. We've been cooking (more) delicious meals, going to a church we recently discovered and love, hitting the gym (hello again elliptical. Long time no see!) and reading books like rapid fire. Or at least I am. I still can't quite convince my husband that reading is an enjoyable past time. Those mandatory books they force you to read in high school apparently did something awful because I cannot get that boy to pick up a book and stick with it to save his life. Oh well. Good thing I love him anyway :)

So you see, we've been quite the healthy version of ourselves this past month. Along with all of these lovely little changes came a resolution of my own. Ironically, it was to stop reading blogs. Yes, you read that correctly. Nice to meet you. Me, well, I'm a total hypocrite. As I write this blog post, I've sworn off almost everyone elses. I've also avoided Facebook (or Bragbook, as my husband calls it) and all baby related communities and web searches (of which I was quickly becoming an addict). And I must say, the change I feel is practically visible. I feel... free.

It wasn't long ago that I started questioning all of my obsessive behavior and thoughts towards babies. First came the decision to start helping others in need, and so my monthly commitment to a charity was born. Next came the realization that I was starting to hate my life, unnecessarily. I have a ton of beautiful, absolutely blessed aspects of my life that I should be nothing short of grateful for and yet here I was, stuck. Obsessing over the one thing I wanted and couldn't force to happen. My life became small and narrow. It all came down to this one element. This one aspect, that no matter how perfectly I tried, I was failing at and making myself miserable in the process.

So here I sit. A happier version of me. Focusing not on what I want, but what I already have. Trying to be positive and full and live life, not just feeling like I'm stuck on pause. I don't have a baby. I don't know if I'll ever have a baby. But what I do know is that there's more to living and enjoying life than babies. There's a whole amazing world out there and friends, families, jobs, opportunities, to be thankful for everyday. The sheer lack of horrible, unmentionable struggles going on in my life is enough to be thankful for because life can so quickly change. In a blink of an eye. There's a lot of pain and suffering up for grabs in life. Not being able to have a baby when I deem it the right time, shouldn't be one of them.

So I'm relaxed right now with the knowledge that I'm enjoying this life as much as possible. I'm making a decision to enjoy life. I'm making a decision, right here and right now, for as long as I can hold out, to be happy.

I choose happy.

And just maybe, the rest will follow.

Angalappan, originally written December 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

December 2013

Angalappan. That's his name. A little boy in India, with very little income and not a whole lot of opportunity.

I've been quite honest about all of the horrendous, monstrous emotions which seem to crawl out of thin air when you're fighting the battle of infertility or recurrent loss (or both, in my case). They're dreadful and so easily all consuming. If you let them be.

I'm keenly aware sometimes of just how selfish procreating can be. Why create more children when there are so many helpless children in need out there already? No, I do not need a lecture on the reasoning. I know it probably has a lot to do with natural instinct, or genes, or God...or any combination of those beliefs, depending on who you ask.

While we're not at the point of considering adoption (although some days I do let my mind wander), I'm also not naive to the situation beyond our four walls.

So I decided to try and turn it around. Turn all of those terrible, hideous, negative emotions into something positive. Maybe we haven't been able to successfully procreate yet. Maybe we're not quite ready to dive into the world of adoption. But that doesn't mean I'm not able to do something else.

To help someone else.

I decided to donate monthly to a charity, to sponsor a 3 year old boy in India who it could be said is less fortunate than ourselves. I may not have a baby yet but I do have a baby fund that I contribute to monthly. Why not contribute to someone out there who's in need now?

I won't go into details about the charity I chose because, at the end of the day, it matters little. What matters is that I'm hopefully helping. I'm channeling all of those negative emotions into something positive.  And that's a change I can get behind. 

The big, the bad, and the ugly, originally written December 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

December 2013

There's a lot of ugly that springs to life when dealing with infertility and/or recurrent loss. The thoughts, they creep in so slowly, so innocently sweet, that at first they practically go unnoticed. But then sometimes, those thoughts, they get too big and too loud.  Before you know it, you've got a whole head swirling with ugly, seemingly overnight, before you've even had a chance to realize they've come to stay.

They go a little something like this...

She already has one child. It's my turn. I deserve a baby more than she does.

We would make a better family than them because we have more means to afford it.  We deserve this more than them.

I would be a better Mom than that other girl because I'm older than she is and smarter. I deserve this more than she does.

I at least make good judgments in life and didn't get knocked up when I was single. I deserve this more than her.

That's really the dialogue we're having with ourselves every time we look at, say, a teenage mom with frustration and anger. Or the low income family with "too many" children. It sounds horrible to say out loud (or type, in this case) but if most of us are being honest, we've been there. We've succumbed to this new, bitter low. It's shameful and oh so easy.

I deserve this more than them because of x,y, or z.

When you strip it all away, I think it's mostly just an attempt to justify envy. But it's terrible and negative regardless. And I hate it. I think this is one of the hardest aspects of struggling with infertility. That slow disintegration of normal emotions. "Oh, you're expecting your second!?" Oh, that's um.... that's uh, great! I'm sooooo happy for you." Now quick, turn and run to the bathroom before anyone notices those alien tears that have sprung to your eyes from seemingly out of nowhere.

I said before that I think it's completely normal to feel envious when you're trying to achieve something so difficult. And whether you're religious or not definitely dictates some of your feelings toward the whole thing. Since I do believe in a higher power, I try to remind myself that it's not my call to make whether someone deserves a child more than I do, no matter how my circumstances appear in contrast to their own.

And if that doesn't work, than I like to play the what-if game. Not the happy what-ifs. Not the sadly optimistic ones that go a little something like this....

What if I hadn't had that first miscarriage? I would have a two year old by now.

No, no. I like to play the uglier version. It goes a little more something like this...

What if I hadn't had that first miscarriage? What if we had the baby but the stress of it all, at that time in our lives, was too great for us to handle? What if we ended up getting a divorce because of it? 
What if I had to choose - a happy marriage or divorced with a child?

Maybe, just maybe, there's a plan for us all and all we really have to do is try to be patient.

I do think it's important to stop and analyze what it is you're actually saying to yourself in the privacy of your own mind. Are all of those negative thoughts about others really helping? Are you actually bolstering yourself up at all by trying to put yourself on a pedestal higher than others? Ask yourself...what does that even do for me at the end of the day except make me feel more envious, more bitter, more frustrated?

And so, I attempted something different.

...which I'll share with you tomorrow because this blog post is already getting waaaay too long. Stay tuned!

Savings for someday, originally written December 12th, 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

December 12, 2013

I mentioned in this post that my husband surprised me one evening by informing me that he had opened up an account which automatically deducts a portion of his paycheck to fund a college savings account... for our unborn children. Pretty sure my heart melted completely away that night.

Well did I ever mention my little secret savings as well? I've been stocking away for months now. Automatically. Every other week when pay day rolls around, a portion of my paycheck is automatically sent to a savings account with a bank I don't use (to stave off any temptation). It's a nice little piece of knowledge to know that I have a cushion to play with should I find myself in the situation of needing to buy nursery furniture, decor or clothing. It WILL happen.

But in the meantime, it's one of my only comforting thoughts with regard to it taking longer than anticipated to conceive again. That little pot of gold keeps on getting bigger and bigger and the longer it takes, the larger it'll be. See, silver lining and all.

Project nursery & a new Etsy shop!

Post may contain affiliate links. Explanation here

Gals, I so appreciate being able to finally post all of those previously hidden blog posts about the journey that brought us Miss Evelyn Rose but can I also admit how painstakingly slow the process has been!? So many times I find myself longing to jump ahead and interrupt the story with a daily photo of Miss Sweet pea or to gush on our latest happenings. Like, did I happen to mention we moved from Ohio to the Northeast all in one shot?! A total of 12+ hours with an 8 week old baby in the car IS noteworthy, I do believe!

So ANYWAY, today is another one of those days that I'm going to interrupt the chronological flow of things because...I opened an Etsy shop!!! Ok, let me backtrack for a moment. Most of you already follow me on Facebook so my beloved nursery creation is nothing new to you but for my few fans who haven't yet seen my now dismantled (so sad!) nursery, I'm going to go ahead and showcase it today. Most importantly though, I'd like to highlight the flower mobile I made, pictured below. I've been toying around with the idea of creating an Etsy shop to create additional versions and decided to take the leap! We're still in very early production mode and the shop needs a lot of fine tuning, but the flower mobile and crack me pregnancy egg announcement I previously made will be available here! Just bear with me as it's still a SUPER rough version. I'll be creating newer additions shortly! As in, can't-wait-to go-to-the-craft-store today shortly!

Rosyrilli.com flower mobile available for purchase https://www.etsy.com/shop/RosyRilli
And now that I've mentioned my brand new, not yet quite shiny, Etsy shop aptly named RosyRilli, I'd like to showcase another project of mine...or more accurately, the complete project. I had listed this nursery already on Project Nursery's website, which was then also awarded February's Nursery of the Month for Best Home Furnishings! We're lagging, I know, but I promise we'll be onto current events soon enough!

Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
Rosyrilli.com nursery for Miss Evelyn Rose!
If you're interested in additional details regarding the nursery, feel free to stop on over to the Project Nursery website where I outline where items were purchased with a few additional tips and inspirations. It all started with a pillow :)


Bump. Bump. originally written November 21st, 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

November 21, 2013

I really should have known better. It seems all of that previously gleeful, estrogen-induced optimism plummeted with the appearance of my rising temperatures. Damn you progesterone. Now all that I'm left with is fatigue, frustration and a mounting sense of despair.

I'm also extremely aggravated because I thought I was 6dpo (days past ovulation), but realized all too slowly that number's more likely only 4dpo. Which, okay, I see doesn't seem to be a big deal. 2 measly days. What's the difference?

Well, I'll tell you. This two week wait is so dreadful that adding back 2 more days is painful to my brain. I'm so tired of over analyzing and fretting. Also, it puts the timing of certain important monthly events poorly. It means that I'll have to endure a pregnancy test when my family is at my house for Thanksgiving which I was hoping to avoid. I kind of was wanting and wishing to be able to prepare myself mentally ahead of time... for good or bad news. Also, pharmacies are closed for the holidays, which means should I actually get that shining, beautiful positive I've been dreaming of, I'll have to wait quite a number of days before I'm able to pick up any Lovenox . And THAT means, I'll be worrying like crazy about another early miscarriage.

You see how this is all spinning out of control? I'll probably test early, but I'm not sure it'll do any good.

All because I drank on Saturday. Sunday morning was "the" day. Sunday morning's temperature was critical to determining whether I had ovulated on Friday or Sunday and basically I had enough adult beverages at Saturday night's wedding reception to have to discard any reading the following morning.  So now I've been making up pretend numbers for that day and seeing what fertility friend tells me. Let's just pretend...

I hate limbo. Hate. Hate. Hate.

Another thing I hate? This familiar aching on my right side. It's baaaack. And so soon :/ Last month, after the surgery, I felt no pain. This month, after supposed ovulation took place, that dull ache crept back into my ovary. I called my doctor, and he seems to be under the impression that it's likely a cyst. Greaaaaat. Just wanted I wanted to hear. I have the option to go in for an ultrasound to confirm his hypothesis, but right now I'm sticking my head in the sand and hoping it dies a slow quick death. My cyst, that is. Not my ovary.

Regardless, this path just keeps on gettin' bumpier and bumpier. When does the smooth sailing start? Can I please sign up for that part? And soon!?

Longing, originally written November 11th, 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

I'm keenly aware that I don't just want a baby. I know. I know. That sounds... strange. But it's true. I want a baby and pregnancy. I want to experience pregnancy. The morning sickness. The round belly. The I-feel-like-a-beached-whale moments. I want it all. And I want a baby.

It's the experience I want almost as much as the baby itself.

It's a lot to ask for because it's not guaranteed in life that I will ever get to experience it. There are no guarantees. Oh, but how desperately I long for it. It's such a surreal idea to me. To carry a baby inside of you.

Both of my miscarriages happened so early, before I had visibly gained any weight. Before a heartbeat was heard. Before a baby bump emerged. Before it felt like anything was really even in there. Pregnancy, thus far, has felt more like a concept to me. When you're pregnant but show no signs, it's an idea.  I want to feel pregnancy. I want to feel my body change. I want to grow a baby.

Please God. Bless me with a baby.

I've been finding myself more drawn to writing lately. Maybe it's because the surgery has given me renewed hope.  Maybe it's because I feel like I've been given a clean slate to try again. A do-over. Or maybe it's because I can sense a change coming soon and I want to document all of my emotions while I still have them. To really feel and remember them. To honor this part of my life. These struggles, which one day, I hope, will feel long gone and like far away memories. How quickly things can change with just two pink lines.

Backwards and forwards, originally written November 11th, 2013

See the disclaimer here.

November 11, 2013

It's as if my brain can only handle one worry at a time. I feel like I'm upside down and backwards. I'm all turned around and sorted out wrong. This month marks the anniversary of my last miscarriage, which I don't often talk about. Really talk about.

Sure, I have opened up and shared the story of our struggles with friends and even occasionally strangers.  But I don't often talk about them. About the pain of the miscarriages. About the sadness and despair. I just say that they happened, as though that's enough of an explanation.

We've been trying to conceive for almost a year without success. It's been almost a year since my last miscarriage.

Ironically, my difficulty in getting pregnant has become the focus. My fear of miscarriage, it's still there, lurking, waiting. But now my focus is conception. I only have room for one worry at a time but I'm positive, with all certainty, that the moment the excitement and exhilaration of realizing there are two lines to that pregnancy test happens, the ugly fear will rear its nearly forgotten head.

Somehow I've done this backwards. It's like I'm going in the wrong direction. It took me 4 months to get pregnant the first time. There were no ovulation prediction kits in my bathroom. There wasn't a thermometer on my nightstand or a fertility friend app on my phone. None of that existed, because back then, I was confident with 100% certainty that I would get pregnant naturally. Easily. And then it happened. And just like that, I was thrown into a whirlwind of pregnancy books, and buying diapers in bulk and figuring out what size fruit my baby was that week. And sure, I was nervous about miscarriage. I knew it wasn't all that uncommon.

But it's a little bit like hearing about cancer. You know it's out there, but were you to ever receive the diagnosis, you would be taken by surprise.

I had a missed miscarriage. That first miscarriage, it hurt. It hurt a lot. It stole my joy and my dreams of ever being able to carry a baby without fear. That miscarriage introduced a fear so deep in my heart that I still don't like to think about it too closely.

It did, however, make the second miscarriage easier. It took us quite some time for me to conceive again. Eight months. I had started to become antsy and was relieved when I finally saw that positive pregnancy test again. I was prepared though this time. I knew better than to naively believe that a positive pregnancy test meant that I would have a baby in 9 months. I only had two weeks to warm up to the idea of my pregnancy before it was stolen from me, this time in the more obvious way. There was no way of ignoring the cramps and pain and blood. It happened in my childhood home, the day after Thanksgiving. Three days after I shared the happy news of my pregnancy with my parents. I honestly can look back and see it as a Godsend that I was surrounded by my loving family the second time around.

The second miscarriage. Officially now harder to ignore the possibility that the first time wasn't just a one off unlucky occurrence. It felt different the second time around. I had prepared myself mentally for the possibility. If the first time represented sadness, than this second miscarriage represented anger. I wanted answers. I was officially angry at what had been stolen from me. That happy, care-free pregnancy that I would now never know.

I have such mixed feelings when I think backwards and forwards. I want with all my heart to bring this full circle. I've had the laproscopy and hysteroscopy. I'm taking all of my vitamins. I'm ready for a third pregnancy. It's been a year and the timing of this month is symbolic. I will be hosting my family for Thanksgiving, a first. And wouldn't it be beautiful if I could announce my pregnancy over the holiday? Wouldn't it be beautiful to replace last year's difficult memory with a new, promising one?

I know not to get too carried away. To be too hopeful.

I know that even if I do finally see that elusive positive pregnancy test, whether it's this month or six months from now, that it's really just the beginning. I will worry endlessly about another miscarriage. I will fret over every ping and pang I feel. But you know, this journey has also made me realize something else too. Yes, I will worry. There's one hundred percent, no doubt in my mind, that I will worry.  I will worry about making it to 12 weeks. And then I'll worry about NICU's and stillborns. And then, when I'm finally relieved that my baby is outside of my body, I will worry about sudden infant death syndrome. And after that? I'll worry about freak accidents to little bodies. It's endless. The worry. But isn't that what parents do? They carry on worrying about their children until the end of their days. So maybe I should just make peace with this worry. This worry is here to stay.

I'm equal parts worry and equal parts hope. I'm ready.

My gambling addiction, originally written November 10th, 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

November 10, 2013

It's official. I'm an addict. Every morning, when I enter a new temperature into my fertility friend app, it's like I've received another card from the deck. Symptoms, OPK's... it's all part of my hand. The high's pretty amazing. Some months, I'm convinced I have an amazing hand and if I just play my cards right... Other months, I'm not so confident in the cards I'm holding. Regardless, I can't help myself from playing the game. And I never lose hope. If I just keep playing long enough, I'll finally win it big. I know it. I can feel it. Just a little longer.

Since I started playing this game, I just can't stop.

I am an A D D I C T.

Sorry is not in my vocabulary, originally written November 6th, 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

ROSYRILLI.COM Evelyn Rose's piggies

November 6, 2013

No more apologies. I will not apologize for thinking about babies... constantly. I will not apologize for feeling a little green when someone close to me announces their pregnancy. I make no apologies for buying baby booties even though I'm not pregnant...yet.

Sometimes, I think we're harshest to ourselves. It's the dialogue that no one else hears that hurts the most. And quite frankly, I'm tired of fighting the natural feelings. Why are we so down on ourselves for emotionally responding to situations.. naturally? Why are we hiding?

Isn't it completely normal to focus your attentions and energy solely on one aspect when you have a dream? In fact, most successful people (however you personally would like to define success) are the first to say that they never lost focus. Never lost hope. Kept battling even when people or situations pushed them down. So there! Eat that.

Also, that whole biological clock thing. It's real. We're programmed to want to reproduce. Okay, you could probably fight me on that statement. But whatever. I feel it's a natural inclination for most women to want children. So why feel bad about it? Why apologize? Hell, why even hide it?! Last time I checked, men don't hide their love of sports or cars or sports cars. Oh, or big ta-tas. They certainly don't hide that. Well you know what, Mr. Sir, I really, really, reaaaaaally want a baby. So there.

And lastly, that whole devil called envy. Natural response. Completely natural. How can one not feel momentary disappointment when someone else close to you achieves a dream which comes so naturally to most, but that you have to struggle and battle and fight for?

I will admit that this is a tricky one though. There's a fine line between your own self preservation, say, by slightly distancing yourself from said pregnant lady until you feel emotionally strong, or by just being downright monstrous by avoiding all communication. I think it's only natural to feel a bit envious. It's okay even. Maybe even talk about it? Acknowledge it. Don't freakin' try and hide it because guess what, no one's buying your BS. And it's okay. You're allowed to wallow for a few minutes. It's Normal, with a capital N! Normal! Normal! Normal! Take a few minutes to gather yourself. To remind yourself you're lucky in other aspects of your life.

I like to think that everyone is tested in different ways throughout their lives. This just happens to be yours.

And lastly, all of that time I spend pinning nursery rooms on pinterest and secretly buying discount baby clothing? Well, hell, if that aint positive thinking, I don't know what is. And last time I checked, there isn't anything negative about positive, unless you let it get you down. As long as you look around and see all of those baby items as hope and not despair, well then I say, pin away my fellow friend! Pin away.

So there you go. No apologies. Full speed ahead. This is who I am. This is the battle I've been chosen to fight. It comes with a lot of shit. A lot of wallowing and a lot of hope. It's a mountain I'm climbing. Sometimes it feels like I'm right there, about to reach the top. Sometimes it feels like I fell to the bottom. It's a journey I'm travelling. This is my life. And I don't apologize for any of it.

A sneak peak: Evelyn Rose at 2 months old.

A little preview of what's to come when the story of our journey to conception is over...

Evelyn Rose at 2 months old.

Cannot get enough.

ROSYRILLI.COM Evelyn Rose at 2 months

Stage 2, originally written October 2013.

See the disclaimer here.

October 2013

So this is it. The diagnosis: Stage 2 endometriosis. I'm slowly coming to terms with this reality. Stage 2 (out of 4) is considered mild. I gave up birth control pills two years ago which makes me nervous it was aggressive. The good doc succeeded in removing all areas of endo that he found so my pipes are clean, so to speak. He found the endo on my bladder, both ovaries and near my cervix. I'm hoping beyond all hope that this was the cause of our infertility this past year. I'm on strict orders to try naturally for the next three months. After that, I'm to call the office for a second consultation. I really don't want to make that call. I'm not sure what the next steps are to be but I'm quite certain they come with pretty hefty dollar signs.

On a positive note, we were told not to "try" this month so it's been a refreshing break from the roller coaster. Whaddya know!? I really still can act and feel like a normal human being in the absence of all that baby-making pressure.

As for the surgery itself, the hospital staff was amazingly sweet to me and tried as best they could to keep me calm beforehand. Like any surgery where anesthesia is involved, time seems to disappear. One minute I was awake having IV's put in and the next I was being ushered out to the car. The pain afterwards was about what I expected. I was able to slowly walk around on my own. I had a little bit of an injured animal swagger going on but I think I played it off cool. I kid. I kid. On a serious note, getting up and down from a sitting position was a bit of a challenge. The worst part was the bloated feeling I experienced which lasted 3 days for me. It wasn't necessarily painful, just uncomfortable. Oh, and meds + sleep are apparently a dangerous combination. I experienced one of the most frightful nightmares I've ever had. It was as if my body had felt the pain of the surgery and my brain was reconnecting the feeling later in my dream. I woke up hysterically sobbing. Poor husband didn't even know what hit him. After about a week, I was able to function more normally. I'm still careful about over-stretching. I had some very uncomfortable muscle spasms after sneezing, but besides my bruised and dry, flaky stomach, it's been a week and a half and you probably wouldn't even know I'd had surgery. Ok, well unless you actually saw the incision sites which still look like scabby cuts. I'm very eager to have this whole ordeal behind me, which brings me to my new found fear of it returning.

I really, really, REALLY do not have to go through another one of those surgeries. No one likes surgery, no matter how mild or severe. So I'm trying to do everything in my power to avoid it. From the little bit of research I've done, it appears that there are two paths you can take to try and prevent endo from reoccurring or getting worse. One option is hormone therapy, which is off the table since we're trying to conceive. The second option is to make lifestyle changes, ie. change your diet. And man, this is no easy walk in the park. The list of foods to avoid are long and plentiful, including but not limited to dairy, wheat. Dairy and wheat?! No more.... cheese?!?! I practically lived off of cheese. Cheese consisted of a very large portion of my protein and fat intake pre-laproscopy. So what have I done now?

I'm eating only granola or other gluten free cereal and experimenting with using coconut milk instead of the organic whole milk I was drinking before the surgery.

Instead of my yogurt and deli meat sandwich I previously had for lunch, I've switched to salad with fruit and nuts.

For dinner, I'm still trying out organic chicken pot pies, trying to use rice instead of pasta and avoiding anything which contains wheat.. which is hard, hard, hard. No more pizzas. No more pasta. Although, I have purchased some gluten free noodles and gluten free bread. I'll have to let you know how those go down. Somehow I'm thinking they're going to be gross imitations of the originals. For pizza, I've discovered some gluten free (cornbread crust) varieties, but I still can't quite get into the dairy free versions. I've succeeded in cutting out wheat almost entirely but dairy is proving a bit more difficult.

Everything is organic. I'm buying organic as much as possible, whenever I can. I was doing this previously anyway but now I'm trying much, much harder.

Speaking of organic, I came across a USDA certified organic tea brand which creates a red leaf tea, supposedly helpful for creating a good womb. I'll take it! I'll take that good womb :) Tea time it is.