Final countdown.

September 14, 2011

Not just a song by Europe, but a great way to explain this waiting game that is the end of pregnancy. More importantly, and perhaps most obvious is the fact that this is the end of my wishing. I am about to embark on the being part of this story.

I am nervous, excited, petrified, humbled, ecstatic and not able to believe that I am here – all at once. I keep trying to picture what giving birth will be like, what my first contraction will feel like and how I will know the false labour from the beginning of the real labour. I have cleaned and re-cleaned my house, I have painted, scraped and replaced. I am finally at a point in my pregnancy where the birth is welcomed, a little more than it was last month as pain and discomfort override fear.

The most evident of all the things I am going through right now, as I classify them in my head that is: is the fact that I am here, I made it this whole scary way. And that I am in one piece. I have love in my heart and a belief that good things do come to those who wait. This journey has been more than an opportunity to learn patience. It has been the change in my life that I didn’t know I needed. I grew (and shrank) and then grew again (literally)- and found myself. I didn’t let statistics or other people’s experiences shape me, but rather set out to find what we needed to do, as a couple and what I needed to do for myself.

As we get ready to welcome our little baby, I can say with confidence I am ready. Not ready for the sleepless nights or the diaper changes, not ready for the inevitable scares when it comes to their health. But I am whole, and I worked for that.

This has been the best gift of my life so far, the journey has truly been the best part.




July 31, 2011

I am an advocate of photography as a way to remember things. It can be beautiful or painful, it can make you smile or take your breath away but in the very least it is always there for you to look back on.

I had been doing maternity photography for the past 3 years, I just recently gave it up in favor of motherhood- this isn’t a statement about choosing one over the other, I simply do not want to take time away from the one thing I had wished for all this time, to take time away from my child.

For the first time today, I became the subject. I was photographed by my sister, my very own maternity photo shoot… it was scary to say the least. You are vulnerable and naked in front of the big glass lens. I wasn’t sure about doing them at all, but after the countless sessions with pregnant women over the years, I felt like it was a right of passage.

It was. I will have these images forever to mark this incredible blessing.


So here I sit, or should I say plant since my weight is growing at an exponential rate. It seems crazy to me after all this waiting and wishing we are almost there, just less than 12 weeks to go now. I am freaking out. In a good way, but freaking out nonetheless.

Today I ate pickles, and I had some ice cream- ok, when I say “some” I mean 3 cones today. And even in the instance where I am inhaling these foods, I am embarrassed at the cliché and all they represent.

I am not that pregnant woman, demanding that her husband run out and relieve some obscure middle-of-the-night craving… or am I?

Through this entire three plus years of waiting, wishing and finally being pregnant, I always thought of my situation, my plight if you will, as unique. Not unique in the sense that I am the only one who has ever gone through this, but unique in the way I dealt. Now I find myself on this runaway train, as I affectionately call it, and I am dealing with it- like every other pregnant woman. I am no longer the conductor. I’m just here for the ride.

Fingers crossed I arrive in one piece.



June 5, 2011

As my waist grows, and my thighs rub together I am reminded daily how beautiful I am by my husband. I realize that marriage has yet another layer to it- the lying. Good lies, not bad ones.

I can honestly say that I love my belly, round as it’s getting- mostly because for years I never had a great middle, I liked to hide it with loose clothing or empire waist shirts. Now, for the first time in my life I can (and do) rock the tightest shirts: emphasizing my expansive middle, ample boobs and the ever so slight curve of my (painful) back.

Do I look good? I’ll never be sure.

Do I care? Not at all.

Round is the new skinny jean and I love it.




April 18, 2011

I am here. I wished and hoped and prayed for this to happen to me. I am pregnant… yay!


I’m still nauseated, which is funny because the feeling is like a perpetual hangover, and I never drink. I’m 18 weeks and counting, I no longer can (or would) hold in this belly, cause it’s the real deal- and hard as rock. I have trouble sleeping and am a massive bitch, no apologies, I’m simply stating a fact.

The one thing about this whole ride that I knew was coming, because so many other women who have walked in your shoes tell you, is this issue of unsolicited advice. Holy shit- and everyone knows best.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge a single birth story, because I truly believe that they are badges of honour and every woman who has been cut open, split open or simply “popped out” a child- deserves the right to share their story- over and over. So thank you, to all of you ladies who have gone into explicit detail about your episiotomy or a c-section. Thank you for telling me about half-frozen epidural or ones that didn’t work at all. Thank you too, to those of you who swore that childbirth wasn’t as bad as some people make it our to be. All of your stories get me excited for my big day.

You know, the ones who really fall into this category are the ones who thrust their opinion at you, almost as if you asked for it. All you ladies that have had children know exactly what this feels like, in most cases you were the ones who warned me that this was coming. The funny thing is, those same women are imposing their opinions on me now. How soon we do forget.

I’d love for these women to remember what they felt like pregnant with their first child, how nervous they felt not knowing if things they felt, or didn’t feel were normal. I would love to know why the very same women who had dopplers of their own, would tell you not to get one.

As far as I’m concerned this should be a sisterhood, but what I’m finding is that, unless it’s your best friend, it’s a competition. An unhealthy one at that. I started this blog to share what it was like to want something that you have absolutely no control over, I wanted to educate the ignorant and reach out to others in the same shoes. I vowed to never forget what it was like to wait for 3 plus years for this little miracle.

As you read this, think about your little one, and then try to remember back to what it was like waiting for their arrival, not knowing what labour would feel like and being nervous. Then the next time a pregnant friend wants to talk- just listen and offer what she needs, not what you feel compelled to lay on her.

Did I mention that I was a bitch lately?


Natural bean.

March 27, 2011

I’m now at a more comfortable place in this pregnancy. I’m starting to show, which in terms that I’m more familiar with- starting to get fat. Urghhh. Beautiful I am not. At least not yet.

Finding out that I was pregnant was just one of those things. Flossing made me gag and drinking water tasted “funny”. Put two and two together and you have… a pregnancy?! Impossible! After all the needles, the doctors, the tears? After the months of looking toward adoption, the fighting, the strain on our marriage? After over three years, praying and trying anything that anyone would recommend? A trip to Mexico (a lovely place, really) and some tequila, ok… lot’s of tequila was all that happened.

We got pregnant.

This bean wasn’t made for us, but rather by us, a concept that had been long-abandoned.


Travelling bean.

March 5, 2011

My husband and I planned a trip over to Ireland and the UK this past week. We saw it as, perhaps, a final chance to really travel without a child. It has been the best trip of our relationship so far. We tried new pubs, saw professional rugby matches and spent quality time with people who are important in our lives. It really put everything in perspective. Time flies, we are already in our mid thirties and spent the past few years wishing and hoping for a baby, we forgot to stop and smell the flowers, taste the beer and see the rugby. The good news is that there’s still time for that. Well … about 7 more months to be exact.

I’m so thankful for this incredible trip together, just the two of us- and our little bean.