A Christmas Miracle

Christmas is my favorite holiday. I love the decorations, music, and family traditions. Although I am Santa's number-one fan, as a Christian, I'm always mindful that the reason for the season is a miracle birth.

For anyone battling infertility, Christmas is a season of emotional landmines. Aside from the "miracle birth" narrative, the entire season is focused on families and children. You see them while Christmas shopping. Happy little faces beam at you from family photo Christmas cards. All your friends talk about is what their children want and what they plan to give them. When you are childless and very much want not to be, your heart and your spirit take a beating during what to seemingly everyone else is a joyous time.

I went through two Christmases battling infertility. The first was early in my battle. I was sad and getting a growing sense something was off, but we weren't officially infertile yet, just trying to get pregnant with no luck. By the second in 2007, I was battle-scarred by seven rage-filled months on Clomid, several invasive and embarrassing tests, and two misfires on IUIs. (The first had to be scrapped due to the need for more genetic testing-I was a carrier for cystic fibrosis, so J had to be tested and we had to postpone the IUI. Luckily, he was not a carrier. The second scheduled, but first actual, IUI failed right around Thanksgiving. It was hard to feel thankful.)

I really wanted to take the month of December off. I knew Christmas was going to be hard on me and I felt like taking a break from the hormones, the trigger shot, the knowing-every-second-of-every-day-where-I-am-in-my-cycle, the two-week wait, the progesterone pills I had to put in my vajayjay twice a day everyday after the IUI, all of it. I saw nothing but heartache ahead.

J is the one who convinced me to go through it all again that December. It amazes me to think back on that now, as there were definitely points in our journey where he was ready to stop if I was, where he felt like it was too much to put myself through, and I was adamantly not going to stop until there was a baby in my arms. At the moment I faltered, he boosted my spirit. Our chances on getting pregnant on the first IUI were 8 percent. The chances on the second IUI were 15 percent, almost double. In J's mind, that was reason enough to try again. I'll never know exactly why he was so confident that we should proceed in December, but I'm forever grateful he was steadfast and supportive and kept me going.

We went to our RE's office on the morning of December 14th, 2007, to check things out via the oh-so-fun vajayjay ultrasound. The previous month, none of my follicles looked promising. On this day, I had two OK follicles and one very large, VERY PROMISING follicle. It was absolutely the first time on any of my MANY mortifying vajayjay ultrasounds that I could actually "see" what the doctor was looking for, and he was very pleased. Of course, it was only one lovely follicle, but that was more than I had ever had develop properly before. He recommended we do the trigger shot that night and come in two days later for the IUI. My Mom and Daddy came over that night so Mom could help me with the shot. (J hates needles and I couldn't bear to give it to myself. My Mom was practiced in giving her sister insulin shots, so she took the job. Love my Mom. Of course, she would do anything to be a Nana!)

On the morning of Saturday, December 16th, 2007, J and I went to the RE's office and submitted ourselves to our various indignities. We went home and I spent the next two weeks attempting to distract myself in all ways possible. I really wasn't in the Christmas spirit. Mostly, I expected the worst and braced myself for it.

My pregnancy test at my RE's was scheduled for the morning of New Year's Eve. I was off work and J and I had made no plans to celebrate since I figured I'd be home sobbing into the remnants of an entire chocolate cake, while watching the ball drop in Times Square-a fitting end to my hellish year.

I went for the test first thing, then drove to my parents' house to hang out with them...J was at work. I didn't expect to hear news till the end of the day. A mere two hours later my phone rang and my doctor's words were "I hope you weren't going to make a New Year's resolution to lose weight this year, because you're going to gain a lot of weight!" I was like, "What?!" and started crying and then he said I was pregnant.

I'll never forget turning to look at my parents and seeing tears streaming down my Daddy's face. I immediately called J to tell him the good news...I hate that he wasn't with me, but since we weren't expecting good news, we hadn't really thought about it. J came home from work early that evening and we went out for dinner and smiled and laughed all night. My heart has never felt so light. We're pregnant, we're finally having a baby, we kept saying. We couldn't believe it.

Now, on the other side of my infertility battle, I'm back to loving Christmas again. Every year, during the Christmas season, I remember the circumstances surrounding Sophie's miracle birth. Although she was actually born in August, she was conceived at Christmas. She's my Christmas miracle. I feel incredibly blessed and extremely grateful. The holidays are sweeter than ever before with Sophie in them.

Sophie and me at "Peter Pan" this week.

Sophie as an Angel in her school Christmas Program this week. It's been a busy week!

But every year, I pray for those who battle on. For all the women and men silently suffering, afraid to open Christmas cards, tearing up at touching holiday commercials, wondering why they still wait for their child. I pray for them because I've been there. I pray for their miracles.

Merry Christmas to you and all the miracles in your lives.

How Do You Know When You’re Done?

This is a question I’m asking myself a lot lately in relation to having children, because I am pondering taking steps toward permanent birth control.

I love being an only child. I don’t feel I missed out by not having siblings. I have a very close, very loving relationship with my parents. Growing up, I got to take dance classes, piano lessons, and fun summer programs, and go to a great university. Our family was firmly lower middle class, so if I’d had additional siblings, these things probably wouldn’t have been possible.

Given my background, I really only ever wanted to have one child. And J was good with having just one as well. Other than moments of desperation during our infertility battle when we would’ve happily taken quintuplets if that’s what we were blessed with, and my one bout of serious babyfever when Sophie was 18 months old, we’ve both been completely grateful to have Sophie and, at the same time, completely in agreement that we were one and done.

Sophie is an amazing kid. She has traveled with us to several states and two other countries in her short life. I’ve already got her in ballet, tap, and soccer, and life is SO GOOD. We are so blessed.

I really, deep down in my heart, know with 100 percent certainty that I don’t want to have another child. I don’t.

Our life is busy, our house is always messy, and I had to go part-time just to feel like I had a handle on things after Sophie was born. And I’ve adjusted to it and I love it (other than the messiness of my house) because of all the wonderful moments in those crazy days with my little girl, when she’s talking to me about her day or playing princesses or dancing alongside me to Just Dance 3 on the Wii. I just can’t see adding another child and more craziness and more stress to my life.

And I’m certainly done with fertility drugs and infertility treatments. NEVER AGAIN. I’m pretty sure seven months of fertility drugs did a number on my body that continues to this day and I have no desire to put myself at further risk physically or emotionally.

So, considering that I AM infertile, why am I even considering permanent birth control? Do I really have to worry about that?

Yes, because it would be my luck to have a fluke cycle where I randomly got pregnant despite my infertility. It has happened to people I know. And while if it happened, I’d consider that God’s will and proceed forth in life as a mother of two, I don’t really want to leave things to chance.

TMI ALERT!

The bigger reason I am considering permanent birth control is simple. I’m tired of having a period.

As a teenager, I had horrible periods (probably caused in part by an undiagnosed thyroid condition) where I bled for a month straight or every other week. All the time. It was traumatizing, until I was 17 and my mother took me to an OB/Gyn, Dr. F, who put me on the pill. Suddenly, I had simple, three-day periods, once a month like clockwork. I stayed on that pill for 16 years, until J and I decided to start trying for a baby when I was 33.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that pill-free, my period only lasted an extra day and was still pretty regular. Then, six months later, I was UNpleasantly surprised to find out I wasn’t even ovulating and couldn’t get pregnant, so what was I doing with a period every month anyway?!

Then, we finally had Sophie (who was delivered by Dr. F-I find someone I like, I stay with them!). When my periods returned post-pregnancy, they were much heavier, crampier, and longer. The pill no longer worked for me and I had lots of breakthrough bleeding, so I stopped taking it. This last year, my periods started coming closer and closer together, so I was basically bleeding every third week.

I really feel like my quality of life is suffering. I’m exhausted, probably a little anemic, and uncomfortable, more than I’m not at this point.

Researching my options, I discovered something called ablation, where they laser off the uterine lining and you no longer have a period. You usually have to do something else along with ablation, such as your husband having a vasectomy (not likely) or having your tubes tied (more likely for me), because if you did get pregnant after having ablation, the egg wouldn’t have anywhere to implant and it would be a bad, guilt-inducing situation.

So, I visited Dr. F, explained the situation, and waited to see what he recommended. I didn’t mention anything about ablation-I wanted to see if he brought it up as an option. I did tell him that my ever-closer periods, plus a laundry list of other symptoms meant I was going into early menopause. Ha!

He told me I was NOT going into early menopause (not sure I believe him), didn’t mention ablation as an option, but thought the reason my periods are coming closer together is because my eggs, which were so awesome and viable just three years ago (it’s the only fertility test I passed with flying colors-I had good eggs, they just didn’t GO anywhere to make me pregnant!), are now aging and unable to last a full cycle. Thus, closer-together periods.

He actually said, “Well, if you were trying to get pregnant now, you’d need a lot of help.” Um, hello, I needed a lot of help the first time when my eggs were GREAT!

He recommended I go back on a very low-dose version of the pill that would sort of smooth things out hormonally and help the eggs hang on longer, thus spacing my periods back out some. Great! A solution that’s not so drastic, I thought.

I started the new pill at the end of my period on a Sunday. Six days later, OUR FIRST DAY AT DISNEY WORLD, I began bleeding again. Heavily. And I bled for the rest of the trip, until I finally stopped taking the pill. Two periods in three weeks. ARGH. No more pill for me.

Then, last month, pill-free, I had a few days where my cycle ran long and I hadn’t started bleeding, and I was like, “What if I am pregnant?!” and I was in a complete panic. I really didn’t want to be pregnant and I was so relieved when my period finally came and I knew I wasn’t.

So, now I’m back to considering talking to Dr. F about more drastic measures like ablation and tube-tying, but I’m having a hard time with it. Because even though I know I truly don’t want to have another baby, it is so hard for me to take a step that will make it COMPLETELY impossible. To close that door forever.

As an infertile person, I spent a lot of time praying to God because I wanted a baby more than anything in the world. I’m so lucky to have a beautiful, healthy child and I’m completely happy, grateful, and fulfilled as a mother of one. Even though I really don’t want another baby, it still feels too hard to personally take an action to end my childbearing ability forever. Even if it is probably already gone on its own anyway (see: AGING EGGS).

So, I’m just waiting and thinking. And giving it more time. And hoping that I can be at peace with whatever decision I ultimately make. If anyone else has thought about this or done this, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Glam-O-Update

This has been a crazy fall. Over and over again, I have an idea for a blog, then time passes and I can't seem to find time to stop and write. So here is an update on all the random things that have happened in the last two months or that I wanted to post about recently.

1. Goodbye, Paci.
S turned three at the end of August, so I knew the time had come that we absolutely had to take away the paci. We considered doing it last year, but thought we would wait until she was potty trained (ha ha). Since that is an ongoing process, we decided to do it in late September when we had a week off from work and could afford a few sleepless nights. We had already limited her use of it to her room at night only several months ago.
In the last few weeks S had with the paci, I was really emotional. S took to the paci from day one and it always soothed her so well and calmed her down immediately no matter what. I was sad to see this last vestige of her babyhood going away, but I was also really sad that I knew it was coming and she didn't. The last two days she had with the paci I got teary watching her sleep with it.

We got rid of it in an interesting way. The last month we hid all the pacis except one that had a sea turtle on it. The week we were off, we went down to Corpus Christi to the beach and then spent the night.

On the beach, no idea this is her last day with the paci :(

The next day we visited the Texas State Aquarium and saw the sea turtles. All of them are injured in some way and cannot be released back in to the wild. S was fascinated by the guide's explanation of which ones were missing flippers and such. "He's missing his arm!" she said, over and over. J and I, sensing an opportunity, told S that she should give them her paci, because it would make them feel so much better. "Because they're missing their arms!" she replied. Before we left, she picked out a stuffed sea turtle to take home.

Hemingway is missing a few arms, poor thing

The sea turtles are so sweet!

That night, when she asked for her paci at bedtime, we told her we had left it with the sea turtles to make them feel better and that she had her stuffed turtle to make her feel better. She cried, but adjusted well. She's only asked for it twice in the last six weeks. She's definitely not sleeping as well without it and there have been days J and I wished we could give it to her to help, but we've stayed strong even though we're sad.

2. Potty Training Continues.
S has gotten really good about going pee on the potty, but still has the occasional accident at home and at school. She still mostly refuses to poop on the potty, but did go unprompted recently. We were at a friend's house for a dinner playdate with my two mom friends and their kids. All of a sudden, the kids got quiet, so we went to check on them. They had left my friend's son's room and went into the bathroom together! When we found them, my friend pulled her four-year-old son out of the bathroom, just as S hopped off the potty totally bare butt, having just pooped on the potty, and my other friend's daughter was jumping on without flushing LOL. S doesn't want to poop on the potty, but it's cool to do it with friends? Peer pressure at work? I don't know, but it was really funny!

S with Spiderman, her bathroom buddy!

3. Disney!
We are leaving for Disney World in 10 days and I feel really unprepared. I have no idea what to pack. I feel like I have nothing to wear. And I've been working so hard and planning the trip for so long that it doesn't seem real it's 10 days away. I feel like I should be more excited? But I can't quite muster up the enthusiasm yet? What is wrong with me? DISNEY, PEOPLE! I haven't been since 1994! Come on!

4. Giving Hope.
Last year, I wrote about one of my sorority sisters who reached out to me after I posted something on Facebook about going through infertility. She thanked me for speaking out about my infertility battle and wrote "now when I see your posts it also reminds me that even people who struggle with infertility can end up with a fantastic family." I was incredibly touched to hear that, since I've made a point about speaking out about my infertility in hopes of helping to end the stigma infertile women and men feel. We wrote back and forth, sharing information and experiences for several months.

This week, she announced on Facebook that she is pregnant! I literally cried tears of joy for her and her husband. It's so wonderful to see someone else getting their miracle. She wrote me a personal note after she announced it, thanking me again for my support. I couldn't be happier for her!

5. Extracurriculars.
S has started two new extracurricular activities this fall. She is taking ballet and tap at her day school every Wednesday and Soccer Tots on Saturday mornings.

She took to dance right away and is very excited every Wednesday to get to wear her tutu! She loves her teacher and seems to really love dancing! And this just warms my heart, since I took 11 years of ballet, two on pointe, 11 years of tap, several years of jazz, and danced on my high school and college dance teams. Nothing would make me happier than if dance is something she loves and continues to love doing as she grows up! Don't get me wrong...I don't want to be one of those crazy Dance Moms, but I would love to share that interest with her and get to relive some of my dance years through her!

S doing her best Flashdance impression

Soccer had a bit of a rocky start because the skills class requires the parents to be involved at first until the kids get comfortable. We finally figured out that if we just sit out and cheer her on, but let her do everything by herself, she follows the coach's instructions and behaves MUCH better LOL. She's doing great though and it's terrific exercise, so we are signing her up for the next session and will probably keep with it for awhile!

Score!

6. High School Reunion.
My 20-year high school reunion was at the beginning of October. I kind of dreaded it beforehand, but it ended up being SO MUCH FUN. I think the reason I liked it was that it was better than the 10-year. At the 10-year, everyone was focused on what they had and what they were doing. At the 20, people were just genuinely excited to see each other and see everyone's kids and it was awesome!

Me, Salutatorian of my class, 1991

My two girlfriends/dates for the reunion, a guy friend we were all excited to see, and me at the reunion banquet!

Another reason it was fun was because instead of dragging my poor husband who didn't know anyone and would've been miserable to the banquet, I went with two of my girlfriends from high school. One is getting divorced and didn't want to go alone and the other's husband was like mine and wouldn't know anyone, so we went together! And driving around before and after, reminiscing, and dancing at the event really felt like old times, as if 20 years had not passed!

Then, the following day, we had a big reunion picnic, so I brought J and S to that and introduced them to everyone. It was neat to see S playing with the daughter of one of my friends from junior high!

With my friend and her new baby at the reunion picnic

My friend P's daughter with S. P and I were really good friends in junior high!

7. The Best Halloween.
This was S's fourth Halloween, but definitely the best so far. The first year, she was eight weeks old, and I dressed her in a furry pumpkin onesie and worried that she was hot all night since it was 95 degrees.

My little pumpkin, Halloween 2008

The next year, at age one, she was a cute Tinkerbell, but was so cranky she only wore the costume long enough for me to take pictures and did not go to any houses. (Also? Still 95 degrees!)

Tinkerbell, Halloween 2009

Last year, she went as sort of a bee fairy. She was cranky about putting on the costume and only made it to three houses before she had a complete meltdown and the night was over. And it was 95 degrees.

Bee Fairy, Halloween 2010

This year, S decided she wanted to be Cinderella. I got the full Disney costume, since we are going to have dinner with Cinderella at the castle during our Disney visit, so she can wear it again. She tried it on a few days before Halloween and was SO excited! "I'm a princess, Mommy! Like Cinderella! I'm so pretty!" she said. So adorable!

Halloween night, she came home from school and wanted to immediately put on the costume! And when she realized people would give her candy at each house, she was all about trick or treating. We went all the way around the block, hit about 16 houses, and had so much fun! She didn't meltdown or fuss once. Everyone thought she was so sweet! And it was actually only 75 degrees, which was AWESOME.

Cinderella, Halloween 2011

Trick or treat!

Happy Halloween!

So there you have it...my fall, abridged version. How was yours? I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving and I will try to post a Disney vacation update after we return! If you have any Disney travel tips for me, please share. I definitely need them!

Every Day Is Mother's Day to Me

Last night, my baby girl, S, was having trouble going to sleep. When I went in to check on her, I picked her up, wrapped her in a blanket, snuggled with her in the glider in the corner of her room, and rocked her.

As we rocked, I stroked and kissed her hair and talked to her. I told her how very happy I am to be her mommy and how lucky I am to have her. How she is my best little girl and I love her so, so much. I breathed in her sweet baby smell and felt tears coming to my eyes.

As we continued to rock, I thought about the fact that at this time, four years ago, I didn't think I would ever get to be a mother. My world seemed extremely bleak, and I was sad and angry most of the time.

Then, I thought about the fact that at this time, three years ago, I was happily pregnant, and enjoying a pretty easy pregnancy (sciatica and swelling aside), which would be followed by a fast and easy delivery.

May 2008: Happily celebrating my birthday and Mother's Day

Still in the "cute" pregnant stage. The "HUGE" pregnant stage was still to come!

Then, I thought, how I wish I could go back in time and tell the sad woman I was four years ago to have faith--that the hard part was almost over, that she was going to be a mother and soon, and that her daughter would be the most beautiful, sweet baby who is growing into a strong, smart, independent, funny little girl who makes her proud everyday.

Since she was riding a horse, she HAD to wear a cowgirl hat!

My little girl's growing up so fast. But she's still my baby!

S with her pal Zoe at Sea World of Texas

Four-years-ago-me would have a really hard time believing it. Some days, I can't believe it myself.

I'm so blessed. So lucky. Every day is Mother's Day to me.

Giving Hope

Recently, I posted a link to an article, Infertile couples cope with prolific Facebook friends, on my Facebook page with the comment "I have to say, I completely understand this reaction. I'm glad I wasn't on Facebook when I was battling infertility. If someone wants to hide me because of my baby pictures and updates, I would totally understand. I've been there."

This week, I got an inbox message from one of my sorority sisters. She's two years younger than me, married, and living in another state. I haven't seen her since I graduated, but keep up with her on Facebook. We were not super close in school, mainly because we only overlapped in the sorority together for about a year since she's younger than me, but I've always thought she was a very sweet person.

She wrote: "I just wanted to thank you for the post you made a little while back about fb and infertility. Although I can't really figure out why, somehow it's something you're not supposed to talk about. I was glad you mentioned it.

We've been dealing with infertility for awhile now, and it really sucks. No other way to put it. And yes, fb can be really hard when everyone I know has such beautiful children and gushes about them all the time...But I don't think I'd hide anyone for it bc I'm so glad to see these people I know so happy. Honestly, it's huge to me to know you dealt with infertility but have had such a fantastic happy ending. I've always enjoyed seeing your pics of your daughter bc she's so cute and looks like a mini-you...but now when I see your posts it also reminds me that even people who struggle with infertility can end up with a fantastic family."

This message means the world to me. I cried reading it. I do have a fantastic family and I'm so blessed. And I'm so happy that by sharing this link and my experience, I gave my friend some hope in her own infertility battle.

Infertility is nothing to be ashamed of--it's a medical condition, despite the fact that most insurance companies do not cover its treatment. I made a promise to myself after I had my daughter that I would always talk about the way she came into being honestly and share my experience in part to try to take the stigma away from infertility. I suffered mostly alone and in silence while I was going through it, feeling like a failure and angry at God. So I won't be silent about it ever again.

I wrote back to my sister and told her how much her words meant to me. I also gave her my number and told her to please call me if she ever wanted to talk and needed a sympathetic ear from someone who's been there. And I told her I'd be praying for her and her husband. I so hope they will get their miracle baby. Mine was conceived about this time three years ago via IUI...a true Christmas miracle.

"Now when I see your posts it also reminds me that even people who struggle with infertility can end up with a fantastic family." This is one of the best sentences I've ever read! I gave someone hope today. What a great feeling!

My little Christmas miracle

Two Years of Miracles and Dreams Come True

"I was waiting for so long/For a miracle to come/Everyone told me to be strong/Hold on and don't shed a tear.

Through the darkness and good times/I knew I'd make it through/And the world thought I had it all/But I was waiting for you..."

--From A New Day Has Come by Celine Dion

Two years ago today...I met an angel God sent to me. She saved my life.

Glam-O-Mommy meets daughter

Ready to go home--third day

First moments at home

8 lbs 6 oz, 21 inches long

When I look at her, I believe miracles can happen. Dreams can come true.

One month old

Seven months old

One year old

Thank you, God, for answering my prayer.

Two years old, 30 lbs 8 oz, 37.25 inches long

Happy birthday, Big Girl. Mommy loves you SO much!

Cowgirl cutie, ready for her big party

Vanity, Thy Name is Glam-O-Mommy

A major part of my feeling of self-worth lives and dies by the state of my hair.

If my hair looks good, there's almost nothing that can ruin my day. If my hair looks bad, well, the day is only going to go downhill from there.

Lately, I've been having LOTS of bad hair days. This is partially because about seven months ago I let my stylist of 17 years convince me to change the way he does my highlights. For about five years or so, I've sported chunky double blonde highlights set off with double lowlights. This makes me look very blonde, which makes me very happy. (I was born a blonde, so I'm always trying to return my hair to its natural state LOL.) He really thought I should go back to thin blonde highlights and few lowlights, with more of my regular (I refuse to call the dirty dishwater color that grows in my natural color) color coming through.

When I decided to try it his way, I instantly regretted it. Not only did I look less blonde, my roots became visible much more quickly than normal. For seven months, I've been trying to get him to switch my highlights back to the chunky double highlight/double lowlight look I love...the look that feels like me.

Then, July happened. Let's take stock of my July, shall we? Hurricane Alex hit the first week, which meant I worked extra long days at work and missed out on time with my kid, which makes me unhappy. By the time that was over, I had a horrible cold, which dragged on through the next week and caused me to miss some work. Then, just as I was getting over that, my husband had emergency surgery and was in the hospital for three days, and then was still down for the count recovering all this last week. This meant that I again missed work, putting me behind on a big project, plus I was extra stressed taking care of both my dear husband and my daughter without his help, PLUS I missed my normal highlight appointment, meaning my already scraggly, rootsy hair had to stay that way for an extra week.

So, I've felt kind of like Crap Walking all month, but especially the last two weeks. And when my parents offered to keep my daughter yesterday (hubby's not allowed to lift her for FOUR MORE WEEKS-GAH), so I could go get my hair and nails done and do a little personal pampering, I jumped at the chance! When I called my stylist to make my hair appointment, I was all, "Look, dude...I am not letting you talk me out of this again...I WANT my chunky double highlights and lowlights back! I want my MOJO back!"

Two points here:

• I said "dude" to my stylist because he is a 6"4" straight guy (strange for a stylist, I know) who has curly 80s rocker hair all the way down to his waist. I'm not even exaggerating this description. He once got mad at me when I told him I had DREAMED he had cut his hair short like Sammy Hagar did when he was in Van Halen. Last night, he was going to see the Scorpions in concert here in San Antonio. Because I've been going to him for 17 years, I can call him dude and be completely honest with him about what I want. I realized yesterday he is one of the few people I can talk to this honestly LOL, and it's very refreshing. :)
• The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "mojo" as (1) a magic spell, hex, or charm or (2) magical power. I truly believe my hair is the font of all my mojo and has magical powers. But only when the highlights are RIGHT!

So yesterday was a fabulous day for me. I got a mani/pedi for the first time in at least a month. My stylist willingly obliged me and did my highlights the way I like them, which has made me SO happy. (In his appointment book, next to my name, he had written, "Wants mojo back!" LOL) Then, I got a massage and a facial and capped off the day with dinner with all of the people I love: my sweet parents, my dear husband, and my darling daughter.

Am I vain? YES. But I was thinking about it this morning and I realized I'm a lot LESS VAIN than I used to be.

As a mom, there are lots of situations you find yourself in where you just can't take the time to care about your personal appearance or how you look to other people.

This morning, for example, I took my daughter to a different pool because our swim class was cancelled. I would've preferred to carry my daughter about in the water and practice some of our swim class activities, like back floating, kicking, going underwater briefly, etc. This could all be done in the four- to -five-feet deep section of the pool, so that my poochy mom belly and flabby thighs would be nicely covered up by the water as they are in swim class. My daughter preferred to sit in the shallow two inches of water at the entry end and splash, which meant that is exactly where I sat with her, poochy belly and flabby thighs out above the water for the world to see. :) She was happy as a clam, and I was happy she was happy. This is a far cry from the pre-baby me that only ventured in a pool to cool off, never got my hair or face wet, and inclined on a lounge chair with one leg cocked up at a precise angle to make my belly look as flat as possible LOL.

(OK, technically, I am working out twice a week to try and tighten the belly and thighs up before our Jamaica trip; however, realistically I know that I will spend very little time in Jamaica lounging on a chair under a palm tree like I did on my last visit and most of my time carrying her or chasing after her and looking crazily disheveled and wet like I did at the pool today. A girl can dream though.)

Other situations I've faced as a mom where all vanity and caring-what-other-people-think-of-me went out the window:

• Infertility treatment. Everyone and their brother got a look at my hoo-ha during this time--the first part of my journey as a  mother.
• Giving birth. Everyone and their brother got a look at my hoo-ha, I threw up twice in front of a room full of people, and continually felt stuff other people could see gushing from me for several hours. BUT I got the epidural, which made all of that go out the window and was A-MAZ-ING, and my beautiful daughter came out healthy and loudly a mere eight hours after the whole thing began. AWESOME.
• Explosive diapers. My daughter has gifted me with several of these, most memorably as we descended into the San Antonio International Airport. You know, on the descent. Where you cannot leave your seat. Where my husband and I belatedly wrapped my daughter and her RIVER of poop in her changing pad and I ran off the plane (not really, even the threat of poop doesn't stop the idiots in front of you from taking forever to get their damn suitcases out of the overhead bins) to the bemused stares of the surrounding passengers and had to inform the flight attendants to check seat 24B for poop on the way out. Where I then had to strip my daughter completely naked, wipe all the poop off of her and myself and change her into another outfit to the bemused stares of the surrounding female passengers, who had all come to the bathroom directly off of our flight and seemed to be enjoying my Poopapalooza.
• Vomit. The first time my daughter ever threw up, I tried to catch it in my hands to save the couch. Take it from me...that doesn't work. It leaves you with a couch still covered in vomit and HANDS covered in vomit...hands that need to pick up your baby who is freaked out and covered in vomit. Luckily, this was at home. I've also worn another kid's vomit on my pants back to work after feeding my daughter her bottle at school. Word of advice: identify the stealth vomiters in your baby's day school class early and do not sit near them while feeding your own baby. It's bad enough to wear your own kid's vomit...worse to wear some other kid's!
• Insane crying, part I. This has really only happened to me twice in public. Once was at my daughter's first swim class, where she cried hysterically from the beginning to the end of the lesson, all the while clinging to my neck and face and HAIR and almost exposing my boobs to the assembled parents watching their older children's lessons. I just kept going and tried to keep my boobs covered and my hair out of my eyes and now she loves swimming.
• Insane crying, part II. The other time was worse. My daughter really is generally a good traveler, explosive poopy diaper aside (that was the airlines' fault, we had experienced several flight delays, but the kind where you are on the jetway and they won't let you get up from your seat and people don't like it if you change a diaper right on the seat, so you try to wait the situation out, thinking, "We'll be there soon."). Counting each leg of a trip as its own flight, she has been on 14 flights in under two years. The explosive diaper was one bad experience. The only other, insane crying one, I also blame partially on the airlines. She and I had already had a flight delay, so we were taking off on our last flight of the day into San Antonio later at night than I'd expected. My daughter was overtired from being out of town, meeting new relatives, being spoiled by my parents who were at our destination, and napping erratically despite my best efforts to keep her on a schedule. As the plane took off and the lights were turned out for our 40-minute flight, she fell asleep, which was awesome...for 25 minutes. Then, the flight attendants abruptly turned on the lights and made an announcement, which jolted my daughter into having a night terror. This is a bout of insane crying where the baby isn't actually awake or consolable. They last 10-15 minutes and there is really nothing you can do to calm the baby down. She had had a few of these night terror episodes at home before, usually when she skipped a nap and was overtired, so I recognized that was what was happening right away. I knew nothing would console her, she just had to get through it, but I tried everything to do so anyway, all the while with her screaming, trying to climb out of her seat and up my body, and clawing at my hair. Yes, I was that parent unable to calm down their child on a plane. Yes, I got RUDE comments from people in the surrounding rows, although I got several supportive comments from parents who had been there themselves. I got a little more sympathy when a flight attendant asked me my daughter's age and I told her she was 18 months old. Because my 18-month-old was as big and TALL as many three-year-olds, so most people just thought she was being a Terrible Toddler. "She's just a baby then!" the flight attendant exclaimed, which shut some of the people up. Yes, she is indeed a baby, I said. And she's having a night terror episode because she was overtired, our flight was delayed till late, and the lights and announcement jarred her from a sound SLEEP! The capper to this episode was discovering as I finally deplaned with my finally calm baby that I had gritted my teeth so hard trying to calm her down that I had CHIPPED the top of one of my lower teeth. We met my husband at baggage claim and I promptly burst into tears. Not glam.

So there you have it. I am admittedly vain, but becoming less so all the time. I mean, I did live without nails and accepting bad hair days way beyond my pre-baby tolerance for that type of thing (ZERO TOLERANCE). This is just one of the ways my daughter is making me a better person. I'm growing. I have less time for vanity and more acceptance of imperfection. I've also become amazingly more patient, but that's a subject for another post. :)

This is what my daughter has looked like on 12 out of 14 flights.

 This is how we normally look when we travel--poop and night terrors aside.

Hi. My Name is Glam-O-Mommy and I'm Infertile.

Me: "Hi. My name is Glam-O-Mommy and I'm infertile."

Me: "Hi Glam-O-Mommy."

This is me imagining myself at an Infertility Anonymous meeting. And how many people are in the meeting besides me? NO ONE. I'm having the conversation with myself.

I've documented my battle with infertility in somewhat graphic detail here on my blog before. I am one of the lucky ones. I emerged victorious from my battle with a beautiful baby girl.

Still, I wish I had known someone like me when I was in the trenches of my battle. Someone willing to talk about it.

My battle had been going on for over seven months before I even realized I was in a battle and I was losing. We had been trying to get pregnant faithfully each month. My doctor told me to come in and get a blood test to check to see that I was ovulating. I was at work when I realized I'd missed a call on my cell phone from his nurse. On the message, she told me I got a "two" on the test and needed to call her back. Being EXTREMELY naive, I called her back. "I got your message," I said hopefully. "Is a 'two' good?" "You need to be a 14 or above to be ovulating," she informed me matter-of-factly. "So, I failed the test," I said stupidly.

I remember vividly how at that moment I felt like icicles were sliding through my veins, when in fact the temperature was in the 90s with high humidity and I was sweating. Things were about to get VERY DARK and emotionally torturous for months, with no end in sight.

And the worst part of it was...no one I knew, except possibly my husband, could really understand what it was like to be me.

Or, the ones who did know, weren't so big on talking about it. Many women feel that battling infertility is something shameful, and I understand that feeling. You feel like a failure as a woman. Women were made to give birth. That is our role in the circle of life. We carry the babies. So it is devastating to find out that something so elemental, something you spent years and money trying to PREVENT from happening at the wrong time, is never going to happen now that it's the RIGHT time.

You feel damaged and broken. And the majority of people you encounter just have absolutely no capacity to understand or relate to how you feel and what you are going through, even when you try to half-heartedly give them a little insight into the fact that you are having DIFFICULTIES without going into graphic detail. And they say stuff that they think is absolutely well-meaning, but in reality STABS you in the heart repeatedly.

I mean, when you have gotten a "two" on a test that you should've scored a 14 or above on, and the doctor tells you that means you do not ovulate (which is totally weird because you seemingly have a period every month, so what is that about?) and you, being an educated person, understand that no ovulation=NO BABY, you don't really know how to respond when confronted when these kind of statements from Well-Meaning People [WMP]. Because most of the time, it's none of their business, so you just keep things to yourself, but other times, you just want to come out with the truth so they will shut the H-E-double-hockey-sticks up. Although most times, these people are the truly clueless, who upon hearing you have a problem, continue with these statements, not understanding they should just shut up.

Things Never to Say to Anyone (Because You Have No Idea If Someone is Possibly Infertile):

• "You just need to relax, then you'll get pregnant." (Um, no I won't. I am barren.)
• "The minute we stopped trying, we got pregnant." (Um, that won't happen for me. I am a failure!)
• "I heard if you put your legs in the air for 20 minutes after sex, that will help you get pregnant." (Um, no it doesn't. Believe me, I tried. Stupid waste of time. Besides, I'm barren.)
• "Maybe you should adopt. I heard that when people adopt a baby, they usually get pregnant right afterwards." (Hello...adoption is a wonderful choice, but that's not a good reason to adopt a baby!)
• "I know how you feel. It took us two months to get pregnant." (Please kill me now.)
• "I just don't understand why you don't want to give your parents grandchildren!" (Speechless devastation.)

While I heard all of these things and many more, the last one was a real doozy. It was said to me by an Annoying Aunt of mine, who is not a WMP by any stretch of the imagination, at a family reunion. Loudly and haughtily. So most of my relatives could hear it. As if I was CHOOSING to be childless to spite my parents!! I was literally rendered speechless and just walked away. I had to avoid her for the rest of the weekend because every time she came within 10 feet of me, she started in on the topic of my selfish childlessness like a dog refusing to let go of a juicy bone.

Believe me when I tell you that if a woman says to you she is having problems getting pregnant, she does not want you to say any of the statements above, or anything else. What she wants is for you to simply say something like, "I'm so sorry. That must be really tough." And then LISTEN and be a friend.

Anyway. I am getting a little off-track here. What I feel passionate about now is speaking up about my infertility battle. I tried to talk about it with people as I was going through it, and I mostly got blank stares or the aforementioned comments, because it's just impossible for people to understand it unless they go through it themselves. And today, when I bring it up in conversation, most people still don't get it. But I bring it up very specifically, so that if the person I'm talking to IS facing that battle themselves, they know I am someone they can talk to and someone who will listen and understand.

Here's how the conversation generally goes:

WMP: "So how many kids do you have?"

Me: "I have one daughter."

WMP: "How old is she?"

Me: "She's almost two."

WMP: "So, are you going to have another one?"

Me: "No. I had to take fertility drugs and do fertility treatment to get pregnant with her, because we couldn't get pregnant without help. I don't want to put myself through all of that again, but I'm just so grateful I have one healthy baby."

WMP who has no trouble getting pregnant: "Oh, well, some people still get pregnant on their own after fertility treatments, you know. I have a friend..."

Me: Trying to not roll my eyes....

or

WMP who is having trouble getting pregnant: "Really? You guys had trouble? We're kind of going through that right now."

Me: "Ask me anything. I'm happy to share my experience with you."

I've actually had this conversation with several women who started asking me questions because they were facing infertility. One was a coworker, and I met with her almost monthly, kind of like a little infertility support group for her, for over a year until she finally got pregnant through treatment. Her baby was born recently and I'm so happy for her! And she is grateful to me for being there as someone who can understand and relate, which makes me really happy, like something good (besides my amazing miracle child) is coming out of the pain and loneliness I felt during my infertilty battle.

NOW, I know there are tons of infertility-related blogs and online communities out there. I wish I had known about them when I was going through my own experience, because I am sure they would've provided support to me and helped me feel less isolated, but I didn't. Either way, both online and in person, I am now all about speaking out about infertility. It is NOTHING to be ashamed of. It is a MEDICAL CONDITION and we need to support women going through it rather than making them feel like there is something shameful about it. (We also need to get insurance companies to cover more of the costs related to infertility treatment because it is a medical condition, but that's another post entirely.)

I really admire the actress Constance Marie. She is 44 and has a young baby. She's currently blogging on People.com in their celebrity baby blog section about motherhood and wrote an in-depth entry the other week on exactly what she went through to have her daughter. Her battle was WAY worse than mine. Her honesty prompted lots of comments from other women facing their own infertilty battles and I think it's terrific that she is speaking so openly about her experience, as it can really help other women to know they are not alone.

This last week, actress Catherine Bell was also featured on People.com's celebrity baby blog. She is pregnant with her second child. The headline was "Catherine Bell: Son Was Conceived 'Pretty Much Naturally'". In the article, it says: "'We were totally trying,' the Army Wives star, 41, reveals. 'I conceived pretty much naturally.' In fact, it was just two months after starting the fertility drug Clomid that Bell became pregnant."

I like her, but this really rankled me. And it's probably completely irrational on my part, I know, but I was disappointed. Why couldn't she just say, "We needed some help, so we used Clomid." Instead, she's trying to make it sound less shameful that she had help, when there is NO SHAME in getting help. Actually, from the article, she makes it sound like they just wanted to get pregnant quickly, so they may not really have needed help anyway, they just used Clomid to speed things along, but still! I have to tell you, there is nothing 'pretty much natural' about Clomid. Clomid makes you a raging menopausal crazy person, which is very unnatural. But it does help you get pregnant, so it's amazing. And that is what I think we should say.

I feel so grateful that medicine and technology (gifts from God in my opinion) have given women like me a chance to be a mother. Even with all of that, there are still women who will not be one of the lucky ones. Who will still not get pregnant with all of that in their corner, for reasons mysterious and unknown. But all of us, the lucky ones and the unlucky ones, have nothing to be ashamed of. We need compassion, support, and understanding. And we need to use our voices to help fight the stigma of infertility. So that's what I'm doing.

Yes, I have a beautiful baby. But I am indelibly changed by the experience I went through to have her. Sometimes I feel like I walk around with an invisible red "I" on my chest. I am still an infertile woman. My experience colors how I view the world. So I am going to keep speaking out and hope that sharing my experience helps others in some small way to not feel alone. And I am going to hug my baby tight and love and cherish every moment I have with her. Because, while all children are miracles, I know mine really is. :)

Seven Quick Takes on a Thursday Night

Many blogs I read do a "seven quick takes" blog entry on Fridays, so I am going to give it a shot here on a Thursday night!

1. I have not abandoned this blog, I swear! It seems like this last month has flown by between Mother's Day and my birthday, which are a week apart, and crazy busy-ness at work. I may not have mentioned this before but I am paid to write for my company, so sometimes, while I have interesting ideas for my blog, and would much rather spend my day writing for my blog, the most energy I can muster when I get home at the end of the day is to note the idea, thinking I will come back to flesh out the post later. Um, yeah. I will try to write a little more regularly here in the future. I am better at posting pithy, 140-word updates to my Twitter feed, @GlamOMommy, so follow me on Twitter if you dare!

2. After almost two years and nine months, I have started regular exercise again--yay! Pre-baby, I was a regular, three to four times a week, Jazzerciser. Some people may think that's crazy, but I love Jazzercise. It feels more like dancing to the latest top music rather than "exercising," but it combines cardio, stretching, and strength training in one hour. I always feel so much better after a class, because I know I've worked every part of my body. I couldn't exercise during my pregnancy, because I had an early bleeding scare and considering all the difficulties I encountered to get pregnant, my doctor advised me to take it easy for the first trimester just so I would have peace of mind that the baby was okay. When the second trimester began, I was primed to go back to Jazzercise and do it all low impact, but then I was struck with a severe case of sciatica that left me having trouble simply WALKING for several weeks. By the time that passed, I was so huge and it was so hot in Texas, I just gave up and told myself I'd get back in class after the baby was born. Um, yeah. I went three times while on maternity leave, and it was SO hard because I'd been practically immobile for so long. Now, almost two years later, I am back in class, and doing WAY better than I expected. Apparently, chasing after and lifting a 28-pound toddler is fabulous exercise all on its own. My stamina now is almost better than I went to class all the time! I'm only going twice a week after a work. The other two days, I pick up my daughter from school and my husband goes to work out, so this way, we both get a good workout in!

3. On Saturday morning, my daughter and I start the first of 11 Saturday mornings of Mommy and Me swim class. What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking I didn't want my daughter to be as old as I was (six) when she started swim lessons. I wanted her not to be afraid of the water and possibly save herself. I was thinking it would be cool for her to have some good experience in the water before we go on our vacation in September (more on that later). What I wasn't thinking was, oh, that means I have to GET UP and BE SOMEWHERE at 9:15 in the morning every Saturday this summer. What I wasn't thinking was, oh, that means I have to WEAR A SWIMSUIT every Saturday morning this summer. In front of other people. With my mommy pooch and less-than-toned thighs in full effect (thus the Jazzercising!). What I wasn't thinking was, oh, that means I have to wrangle my cute baby for essentially TWO HOURS every Saturday morning this summer for a half-hour class. What I wasn't thinking was, oh, that means I have to WAX regularly this summer! (I have an appointment tomorrow!) Hopefully, it will be a fun bonding experience for me and my little gal and she will take to the water like a cute little duckling.

4. I found out this week that yet another friend of mine who has a kid around the same age as mine is pregnant with baby #2. And I feel fine. I feel I am good with my decision to only have one child, after having moments of doubt and serious babyfever this spring. While I'm not completely ready to start selling off our baby equipment and clothes yet, I feel that I am done, and I'm okay with that. I essentially knew going into our pregnancy that it was most likely my one shot at experiencing that miracle, and so I really reveled in it and tried to enjoy it as much as possible. It's a little bittersweet knowing that was truly it, especially as my daughter now looks like a kid vs. a baby and hits huge new milestones all the time, but I love her so much and I'm so grateful to have her, it's okay. She'll have all of our love and attention, whether she wants it or not! :)

Watch out world! I'm a big girl now! (21 months old)

5. Next week, for the first time in my motherhood, I am going to be single-parenting it all week, as my husband is going out of town for work. EEK! I am taking the advice of another blogger, and have lined up dinner with the grandparentals on Monday night (it's my mom's birthday), dinner with a mom friend on Tuesday night, and may take my daughter to the grandparentals to spend the night on Thursday, so I can get in one Jazzercise class at least. :)

6. As if things weren't going to be hairy enough for me next week, what with some looming deadlines at work and the single parenting, I had to go and make things more complicated by choosing NOW to start working on potty training. SIGH. I really don't know what I was thinking. For several months now, I've talked up the potty with my daughter--she comes in with me occasionally, we've watched an Elmo potty video, and read an Abby Cadabby potty book--just so she would start getting the idea. This week, I set up her little potty in our bathroom, but did not point it out to her at all or tell her it was for her. Yesterday morning as we were getting ready for work and she was playing in our room, I told her I was going to go potty, and she immediately ran over to HER potty and sat on it! Hooray--she's ready, I thought. But the thing is, at her school, they don't reinforce potty training in the class she's in now and I wasn't sure when she was going to move up to a class that would. So my husband and I stopped in at her school today and talked to the director, and she told us they have a transition class they are putting some of the early potty training kids in, and that she can visit the class NEXT WEEK (while I'm single parenting) to see if she'll do okay there, and if so, she can move on up there and doesn't have to wait until August, which is when the rest of the kids her age will move up to the potty training classes. And, in the new class, she will get music and a stretch and grow class once a week, so I think that will be fun for her...I worry that she is bored in her current class. (I may be biased, but she can count to 10, spell her first name, sing the alphabet song and many others, recite some books from memory, and recognize all the letters, shapes, and colors, so I think she's pretty smart and a fast learner and want her to be challenged and learning new things.) But, and I do this every time she moves classes, now I'm sad to see her leave her teachers, who are so sweet! It's tough...I want her to move on and grow, but I want her to stay my baby and stay with good people that love her too, so it's a push and pull all the time. Luckily, one of the teachers in the new class was her teacher when she was first in school at four months. My daughter doesn't remember her now, of course, but I loved her and so that makes it a little better for me, although we have yet to have a bad teacher at this school. :)

7. Jamaica. Jamaica. JAMAICA!! We've booked our big vacation this year, and we're going back to Jamaica! (Another perk of not having another baby--we can still afford to travel fun places!) My husband and I went to a Sandals resort in Negril about four years ago and had an amazing time. We also took the picture that became our Christmas card picture that year on that trip.

Our 2006 Christmas Card Picture from Jamaica

I thought this was pretty glam, I have to say!

Next door to Sandals, which is couples-only, is their sister resort named Beaches, which is for families. On our last visit, we walked over to check Beaches out because we had privileges there, but came back quickly after encountering all the noisy children. Now that we have a noisy child of our own, we are excited to go to Beaches! And our daughter is excited too, because she saw the pictures of Elmo and the other Sesame Street characters that live at Beaches on their website! She was like, "Elmo!!" So we will get to have a fun beach vacation in a beautiful place and help our daughter make some fun memories with her Sesame Street friends too. So, as you can imagine, the Jamaica vacation is essentially what prompted both the return to exercising and the Mommy and Me swim class! (The potty training will help too...our daughter can participate in better kid activities at the resort if she's potty trained!) And, on a few recent shopping trips, I bought two possible outfits for myself and one for my daughter for the Christmas card picture we will take on the beach in Jamaica on this trip LOL. Now I just need to coordinate a nice outfit for my husband too. :) I'm already ahead on our 2010 Christmas card--BONUS!

If you are reading this, thanks for reading! I'll try not to be away as long next time. :)