Part two of a very long saga.

Last we left off, I had just had major surgery and was slowly recovering...

Now I don't know about you, but for me, when the
 "I'm pregnant" switch goes off in my brain...

it's very hard to turn off.

So all of August, September, and October were constant thoughts of getting pregnant again.
Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds.

I  was actually at peace with what had happened with the miscarriage and knew that between the car accident and IUD, and all that jazz, 
it was just a fluke. Right?

I mean I wasn't happy about it by any means,

but I also didn't feel like it was going to happen again. 

I thought it was a one time deal.

I mean come on...guys...this is me we're talking about here.

I always get pregnant.

And stay pregnant.

And have millions of babies.

(millions being relative obvi.)

So, when the begininning of November came around and I had those symptoms I know all too well,

I was SUPER excited. 

Now even though I was confident about this, one of the worst parts of miscarriage is having to tell people you are, in fact, not pregnant anymore.

Reliving it just isn't fun. As I'm sure you can imagine.

So, I decided to tell a few people and wait as long as possible to tell the rest of the world.

Well, a couple of weeks go by, and my wonderful...amazing...sweetness of a husband, being the awesome father he is, tells...facebook. 

"I was just too excited to hold it in any longer!", he tells me.

I was a little bit upset, because you never know,
 but figure whatevs and move on.

Well, about a week later it all goes to shit.

Pardon my french here, 
but I honestly don't know how else to say it.

I start having the majority of the symptoms of miscarriage, 

except for abdominal pain.
Which is exactly the opposite from last time.

So of course, I keep my hopes up, praying that everything else is just weird side effects from having another baby so close to my surgery.

We go in for an ultrasound a couple of days later 
and there it is.

Clear as day on the monitor.

Emptiness.

Nothing.

No baby.

I'm heartbroken.

I held it together in the office pretty well, 

but mentally I was downward spiraling fast.

Real fast.

The rest of November and all of December was a blur...

I did things.

Had fun.

"Merry Christmas!", blah blah blah.

But I had a really hard time coping with my thoughts and emotions when I was alone.

So I read books.

A lot of books.

And basically escaped my reality as much as possible. 

By this time, 
(after losing two babies) 
I am really jonesing for a baby.
(I know, that sounds weird, move along)

So by January 1st I make a decision.

I'm going to take 3 months, get super healthy, 
and then get pregnant again.

And hopefully this one sticks.

So I am doing paleo and crossfit super hard for about 3 1/2 weeks, 
and then it hits me.

Those same. damn. symptoms.

I'm pregnant.

And I know it. 
I take a pregnancy test out of habit, but I didn't need to.

It wasn't supposed to happen this fast!

I am convinced this is going to turn out badly.

This time I tell a couple of people and vow them all to silence.

I cannot go through this again.

Get pregnant, get my hopes up, tell everyone, 
miscarry, have to re-tell everyone.

Cannot.

So for 18 weeks I worry, and am anxious, and just cannot believe I'm still pregnant.

I just know it's going to end at any moment.

And at my 18 week appointment, I'm almost right.

I walk in like normal, check in like normal,
pee in the cup and weigh in like normal.

I even chat with the midwife and measure. like. normal.

Then she goes in with the doppler to hear the heartbeat.

waiting...waiting...waiting.

Static.

And right then and there I know.
This isn't good.
Don't lose it, don't lose it.

She leaves to get another doppler.
Nothing.

She tracks down a third doppler.
Still nothing.

By this time I can't hold it in anymore.
I'm crying.

She goes on to tell me we need to go to Dr. Bootstaylor's office for an ultrasound just to check on everything,
but "I'm sure it's fine."
Yeah...fine. Right.

But I don't feel like I need to know anything.
I'm sure it's not fine.
I feel like this is all just cruel and unusual punishment.
Am I being punk'd? 
Am I gonna get to meet Ashton?
Can I punch him in his manparts?
Seriously?!

In the hallway, I'm trying to rationalize,
but deep down I'm not confident at all.

Anjli, the midwife who attended Cora's birth,
meets me in the hallway and has clearly 
been briefed on what just happened.
She tells me to not worry until we 
have something to worry about.
Good advice.
I try to tell her I haven't had any symptoms of miscarriage.
She says that's a good sign, but sometimes it can take up to a month to see the signs this late in the pregnancy.
Ok. I appreciate the honesty. I welcome it even.

She offers to use the crappy ultrasound monitor they have in the office, but assures me that it could potentially also be wrong. She tells me that we can do that or wait for the ultrasound at Dr. Bootstaylor's office.

Again, I appreciate the honesty. She's not making any guarantees while still supporting me. 
Exactly what a mother needs. Or at least this mother did.

Now as a little backstory/side note...
My good friend Kellie had just shared this video, (Brene Brown at a Ted Talk Conference) with me a few days before and I loved it.
I had been contemplating how I could live life with more vulnerability, 
like she talks about,
 and all of a sudden it pops into my head.

We found out that the next available ultrasound appointment wasn't until 1:30pm...it was 11:15am. 

So I'm faced with a decision.
Do I take the crappy ultrasound and commit to, 
more than likely, feeling worse?...
or do I choose vulnerability?
Do I choose to just take what I have and be content with it.
I am worthy of a baby. 
Whether it's this baby or the next, I. am. worthy. 
Worrying about it for the next two hours 
isn't going to change that.
Or do I start that downward spiral? Again.

Luckily, I chose vulnerability.
I shaped up and walked out without the crappy ultrasound.

We went to lunch, like normal.
I acted like normal.
And I didn't cry, like a normal person does on a normal day.
I even ate a normal, healthy lunch 
instead of taking my emotions out on food.
(which I often do, unfortunately)

Two hours pass by and we're in the waiting 
area of Dr. Bootstaylor's office.
I'm holding it together kind of and 
am pretty nervous at this point.

We get called back and I lay down,
telling myself over and over,
"It's going to look empty, just like last time.
Don't freak out."

And then there it was.

A baby.

I still held my breath at this point because even though I could see the baby, the ultrasound technician hadn't turned the sound on.
Then she flipped a switch and there it was.
A heart beat.

A healthy, living, thriving baby.

I burst into tears at this point and 
nearly scared the ultrasound tech to death.

She immediately apologized and said she didn't realize I was so worried! 
She said, "I would have turned the sound on right away!"

So much for being calm, cool and collected!

So then she asks if we want to find out the gender of this amazingly alive child and of course I do!

After a bit of searching we come to find out that this baby is 
A C T I V E.

Which would explain why the doppler wasn't picking up the heartbeat. The baby was moving so much that it was literally too hard to catch him.

This makes a me little worried for toddler years, but hey, too much movement is always better than none at all! 

To no surprise at all we find out it's a boy!

We expected this all along, but it's still fun to find out right?

Next we meet with the man himself, Dr. Bootstaylor.
He congratulates us, assures me there is nothing wrong and that his high level of activity was the only problem with finding the heartbeat.

We have a nice chat about babies and vbacs and how we still have nothing to worry about and then he sends us on our way.

Then...we have junk food to celebrate :)

It was a reward for not stuffing my face when I was sad.
That's legit right?

Anyway, later that week we finally decide to tell the rest of the world...


Now I'm not gonna lie, put on a happy face and say I haven't worried ever again since that day.
I worry all the time.
I think that's just what happens after you miscarry.
It's not all-consuming, but it's there.
I'm definitely more cautious this go round and often think about 
"worst case scenario's".
I will not be satisfied until he's healthy, in my arms, 
all ten fingers and toes accounted for.

And I don't think that's a bad thing.
I think things for me could emotionally and mentally be a lot worse. 
So I'm gonna take this one as a win.

I'm also not going to say this has been easy physically.
Boy oh boy, has this been rough.

My body went through a lot and since my body was still trying to literally make more blood when I got pregnant I have had a lot of issues....

No energy. 
(more than normal pregnancy no energy)
Headaches from increased blood flow.
Vitamin D problems. 
(which may or may not be from the surgery, who knows)

But I'm taking it day by day and eagerly await the arrival of 
a healthy baby boy.

Mack Aaron Lutz,
I love you.
I grow to love you more everyday.
And I can't wait to keep loving you 
everyday for the rest of my life. 


-------

Phew! Now that I got all that off my chest...I will now return you to my regularly scheduled blogging. :)

Workouts and recipes and motherhood and music...
I'll still throw in some "nitty gritty" keepin' it real stuff like this, but I think we've had enough for the past few days, dontchathink? 


xoxo,
Heather