Today was my D&C.

My husband has a wonderful, and inappropriate, bedside manner. Like, after he used my purse to modestly cover my crotch while I was climbing onto a gurney in my assless gown, he only referred to my purse as my “goody bag.” He also said a lot of other things I shouldn’t repeat, and then called himself a “selfish Patch Adams.”

I’m sad, and tired, and sore. But I’m also relieved.

I’ll explain.

One of the cruel realities of a missed miscarriage, are on-going pregnancy symptoms. I’ve spent the last four days, nauseous, tired, short-of-breath, and achy (in addition to sad!) — only this time I knew it was all for nothing.

And I’m sure there are lots of experiences in life that cause as much anxiety as pregnancy after recurrent miscarriage does. But those things are probably like, oh I don’t know, being kidnapped. Or dangling over an Indiana Jones-esque pit of snakes. Or being repeatedly bumped by something you can’t see in the ocean. And then doing any of those things for 10 months straight.

I’ve spent the last 9+ weeks agonizing over every twinge, cramp, pull, and ache, and frantically checking every square of toilet paper for any signs of trouble. And then, God forbid!, there are actual signs of trouble, and the Prophet Of Doom takes over in your brain, and obviously everything is ruined!

It’s been a few hours, and my ever-present nausea? Is already gone. The aches and pains I’ve been dealing with? Well, they gave me Vicodin, so those are all better too.

I’d gladly deal with all this craziness, and more, if it meant we could undo what’s already been done, but since that’s not the case, I’m relieved to know 1) my body* and, 2) my mind** will get back to normal soon.

And by “normal,” obviously I mean *chubby, and **full of annoying children’s songs.


Recipes, Ryan Reynolds, and Randomness

The other night (when I should’ve been sleeping, because the baby was sleeping, and that’s what you’re supposed to do!) I got sucked into a vortex of blog stats, and started reading the top google (etc.) searches that people used to find/stumble upon me and my story.

I was happy to see that the majority of people ended up here because of my Almond Flour Pizza Crust (which is delicious!, and gluten free!, and low carb! You should try it.)

I was surprised to see almost everyone else was looking for ways to curl their hair with a headband/sock bun/no heat, which I literally tried once (and failed) THREE years ago.

Other popular searches were for good Gluten Free Fried Rice and Copycat Cosi Tomato Basil Soup recipes, and mine are pretty good, if I do say so myself.

The rest of the searches though? They were a mixed bag of totally random, and WTF.

For example.

My BFFs Full Name — I thought, well, that’s weird. Why would looking for my Bestie bring you here? I don’t think I’ve ever even used her full name. So I did a search to see what happened, and almost every google image result was a picture …of me?! And one of our friend Kelly, holding a giant fish. Ummmm. Ok. Obviously we’ve spent so much time together the Internet has decided we’re the same person.

“Tom Selleck Three Men and a Baby” — Obviously, if this is what you’re searching the Internet for, we should get to know each other better. Handsome men, in short shorts, and that stache! Yes, please. I hope you found what you were looking for.


“Pigs Humping” — Now, to be fair, Mike and I DO have a set of S&P shakers from Jamaica in the shape of humping pigs (because they’re hilarious, and when you find something like that, you do not hesitate to buy them for everyone you know.) Unfortunately I don’t think that’s what this person was looking for.

“Ice Skating Shoes” — 1) They’re not called that, and 2) You came to the wrrrroooong place if you want advice about ice skating, other than, never, ever, try to ice skate (you’re welcome).

“Hammocks” — A little generic, sure, but I love a hammock as much as the next girl. Unfortunately my claim to fame involves going ass over teacup into the sand in front of all my coworkers.

“Babies with Muscle Men” — Sorry, friend. That’s just weird.

“Hot Date Tonight” — Good for you! I hope you didn’t come here looking for inspiration, unless you and your significant other are really into ordering Chinese food and watching a SVU marathon.

“PMS jokes” — This had to be a man. Women already know that 1) you better not joke about that shit, and 2) all the really good jokes.

“Ryan Reynolds Naked” — We have SO MUCH in common, my friend. And the Internet just keeps letting us down, right? Believe me, if I could help, I would.

And the weirdest, and my personal favorite:

“Boy Crutching with Hard Leg Cast Next to Doctor” — I don’t even know how to respond. But I’m certain they didn’t find what they were looking for.

Word to the Wise

When your child keeps you up all night, and you finally throw in the towel and decide to nurse him back to sleep at 2:50, ugggggh it’s the middle of the night … wait. What? 12:55! Shiiiiiiiiit. This is gonna be a long night.

Anyway, when you get up and run to the bathroom before lulling your once ahhhmaaazing sleeper back to bed with milk, and you notice the whites of one of your eyes is now red — do NOT do a google image search for “blood in eye no pain.”*

1) Subconjunctival Hemorrhage sounds like it’s going to be horrible, but turns out, not really – once WebMD reassures you it’s all gonna be ok.

2) That unfortunate image search, while terrifying, will quickly make you realize the tiny red spot in your eye is not actually as bad as you initially thought…

3) but so much for sleeping now, sucker, because you’re surely about to be haunted by visions of those eyes that were waaaaay worse than yours, which (ironically) you cannot unsee.

*some of you are thinking about googling it, aren’t you? I find eye things particularly disturbing, so maybe it’s just me? No. It’s not. Just don’t do it.

Dear Seatbelt, I Love You!

So, yesterday morning, I was on my way to the doctor to have some blood work done so we could start another round of IVF.

But then, this happened:


Long story short: I started to slide on some ice, tried to steer out of it, zigged back and forth across two lanes a few times, down into a ditch, and up and over in what I can only describe as a somersault.

I was upside down. Which was a new experience for me.

I remember a lot — although, upon further investigation, what I remember and what really happened aren’t really the same thing.

I remember being upside down, and knowing I needed to get out of the car. I tried to get my keys out of the ignition, but couldn’t. I unbuckled myself, and laid across the roof , and looked around for a way out. I distinctly remember seeing all the windows we’re broken (but today, when we emptied the car, only the driver’s side window was completely broken). Then I thought, just for a second, “Man, I hope I’m not too fat to crawl out a window.”


So, I grabbed my purse, and army crawled out the window, feet first.

Some people were there — they helped me stand up, and walk back over to the road, and across the very muddy ditch I flipped over. So, I was cold and very muddy, and bleeding a little — but aside from all that, and my pancaked car, I felt OK.

Someone called 911, but then everyone who had stopped had to leave. So, I waited on the side of the road for the police/ambulance/Mike to get there.

A lot of people who passed stopped and asked if I was OK, before one guy stopped and insisted I sit in his car and wait for help. His name is Matt, and he’s awesome — because when I realized I didn’t have my glasses on anymore and couldn’t see anything, he went into my car and came back with my glasses and my keys. (I was like, “My keys! How did you do that?!” and he said, “Well, you forgot to put your car in park.” Good one, Matt.)

The EMTs checked me out, and let us head to the hospital of our choice, where we sat for a few more hours before I got the OK to go home and rest. Meanwhile, the mud caked on my shoes (and about six inches up each leg) started to dry and fall off. So, when I went to the bathroom at the hospital, I left a trail of large, wet, brown lumps on the floor.


I was all, “OMG, I can’t leave that there! It looks like I pooped all over the floor!”

So I grabbed some paper towels and started frantically wiping up the mud — which helped, a little, but basically resulted in me smearing mud everywhere in huge streaks. So then it looked like I pooped all over the floor, and lazily tried to clean it up. Great.

The doctor told me I have “excellent bowel sounds,” so go ahead and be impressed. He said I was lucky, and fine — aside from some cuts and scrapes on my hands and legs, and probably a minor concussion.


Seriously — that’s it. Those are the only visible indications I was in a car accident. My neck, and head and back are sore — but I basically escaped unscathed.

A lot of people would think, why did this happen to me, why am I so unlucky? But I cannot express to you how lucky I am.

I was on a road surrounded by trees, which I did not hit. On the opposite side of the road, was a rocky creek I could have just as easily ended up upside down in. I slid into the opposite lane twice, and there were no cars coming. The only window that totally shattered was the one closest to me, and gave me an escape route. A car flipped over on top of me, and I stood up and walked away from it on my own.

I’m surprised how many people asked me if I was wearing my seat belt. I was. I always do, when I’m driving. I’ll be honest, I never do in the backseat of cars — but I will now.

Yes, it was icy, and it wasn’t my fault. You never expect these things to happen. Life is unpredictable. I was worried about being late for the doctor, and was probably driving faster than I should have, given the conditions. From here on out, I’d rather be five minutes late for something, than upside down in a car, or worse.

So, seat belts, people. Seat belts — all the time. Mine is the only thing that kept me from flipping over and crushing my head or breaking my neck.

Today, I am sore and bruised and woozy. My car is totaled (unofficially, but we’re sure it will be). I was cleared to start our new IVF cycle a day later (I was more upset about the possibility of having to skip this cycle, and about the ceramic cake stand in my trunk, then I was about my car, or my body).

But more than anything, I just feel lucky to be here.

Also, I’m psyched about that cake stand, which is still in one piece.

Ohmygod, This Week.

I should be at the beach right now.

Wait, don’t get out your tiny violins — I’ll be there in a few hours — but I should have been there first thing this morning…

This week has kicked our asses.

First, Mike got attacked by hornets. Between Sunday night and Monday evening, he was stung six times — and some of the terrifying culprits chased him into the house. Of course, I didn’t realize I had a bunch of angry hornets in the house until after I helped him with all his wounds — so by the time we got downstairs and there were two in the foyer, I was totally paranoid that there were more just laying in wait. I was expecting a hornet attack around every corner.

I’m not exaggerating at all when I tell you I spent the rest of the night sitting with my back to the wall (watching gymnastics, naturally) clutching a fly swatter like my life depended on it. I’m terrified of bees, and these made bees look like little baby puppies.

Each time he was stung, he was in the same place in the yard, so we knew we had a nest over there somewhere. So then I had to find someone to remove what turned out to be a volleyball-sized hornets nest from the bushes 15 feet from my front door.

Then, I decided that I despise Facebook. Fine, whatever — I’m pretty sure everyone agrees with me.

Then last night, a hour before I was going to start packing our bags, Mike walked down in the basement, and there was water, everywhere.

Thankfully, we have a shopvac, so we were able to clean it up over the next few hours — but there was easily 80 gallons of water down there — courtesy of the AC/condensation drainy hole thingy (super technical, I know) not, well, draining.

Long story short (too late!) we couldn’t leave for the beach until someone came out and fixed our watery basement issue.

Please keep your fingers crossed that our vacation is disaster-free, athank you. Worst case scenario, I just make someone pee their pants again.

Roughing It

I spent the last weekend roughing it.

Well, roughing it for me.

Somewhere in the Pennsylvania mountains, three ladies ate a lot of cheeseballs, drank entirely too much wine, and engaged in a little healthy board game competition.

I slept in a cabin (with electricity, a dvd player, and running water). I walked and played in the woods. I ate at a roadside diner. I slept in a twin bed.


I made the mistake of teaching my most competitive friend how to play dominos, and she promptly destroyed me.


I almost twisted my ankle running away from a bee.

At least, I think it was a bee. Whatever it was, it wanted to attack my face, and my instinct to flee took over.

It was the closest I’ve come to camping in easily 15 years. And I actually enjoyed myself.

Next time though, we need a bigger bag of cheeseballs. They were gone way too quickly.

Bacon & Birthdays

Next week, I’m throwing my BFF a party to celebrate his 30th birthday.

First of all, I’ve been friends with this man since 2001. I’d say I’ve been best friends with him since… 2004? And even now, after 11 years of friendship, I keep learning new things about him.

Like, he is irrationally afraid of things. Particularly seagulls. And he hates anything that touches his neck. His biggest fear, is that a seagull will attack, and go for his throat. But I’ve known this for awhile. (Our other best friend is afraid of mascots. Ironically, our college mascot was a giant seagull — so they were both essentially terrified for four straight years.)

He also hates surprises.

This was new information for me.

I happen to love surprises. But I’m nosey, and sneaky, and am therefore rarely surprised by anything. Maybe that’s why I love them so much — because they are few and far between.

Anyway, in an attempt to not kill my best friend via heart attack, I decided to include him in the party planning.

It went like this:

Me: Do you want to have your birthday party at my house, and do you want to eat bacon pizzas?
Him: Yes. And yes. I think the party should have a theme. Bacon is a good theme. Bacon and pajamas.
Me: Mike just pointed out that he sleeps naked, so I guess that’s your present.

And that’s how I found myself planning a bacon-centric birthday party. I even found bacon desserts (but have decided to improvise a new favorite to include bacon, I think).

Our sole vegetarian friend is really out of luck.

But the rest of us are really looking forward to it.