I didn't post last Friday, it was a long day. And so was today. Like most days are. So that being said, I thought I'd make this post all about pictures. I use to take hundreds of pictures of A. his first year. Over 2,400 to be honest. Now, I try and just take as many as I can manage. It certaintly isn't in the thousands but I love them all anyways.
The summer is also coming to an end and wrapping up. I can't believe that next Tuesday we have the open house for A.'s school already. So let's take a look back on summer.
Just looking at our summer makes me feel so blessed.
I talked before about how I won't have an actual room that is the nursery, instead it will just be in our room. However, that doesn't stop me from collecting inspiration for nurseries. My pinterest board is full of ideas and it occured to me I should probably make up some room boards to help narrow down my ideas. Not that there appears to be any rush, but still, I like to pass the time by obessing.
I have a few themes in mind including mermaids, unicorns, faeries and sleeping beauty for a girl and well, one theme for a boy, Star Wars. I also by the way, hate the idea of themes. Themes quickly turn into tacky. There is a fine line between a room with a nod to it's theme and Yoda thrown up on every surface.
I love the idea of a mermaid room. Even though The Little Mermaid is my favorite movie, I don't mean that kind of mermaid nursery. One that is more a nod to under water mixed with mermaids. Once again, just because it's a mermaid nursery doesn't mean it has to have a mermaid on everything.
Bacon is so incredibly yummy. So yummy. If a recipe says bacon in it, I'm interested. That being said, I wasn't aware that people hated making it. I love making bacon. Why? Because I bake mine. Yes, bake it.
Apparently this is weird and everyone I ever tell about it, from friends to co-workers, seem surprised at the idea. I learned it from My Mom who learned it when she worked at a summer camp. I have never made bacon any other way.
Baked Bacon This was does seem to collect a lot of grease. But it's not being splattered every where on you and on your cook top. Yay!
Directions Pre-heat your oven to 375 degrees.
Line your baking pan with tin foil. I mean, you can skip this part and scrub your pan, but I prefer the lazy way.
Lay bacon out. You can double up if you want, it seems to work just fine.
Cook for 10-20 minutes depending on your bacon preference. I usually do about 15, not slimmy but not burnt to a crisp. Basically take it out when it smells and looks like bacon you like.
So in case you missed it, which I apparently have for a bit now, Disney is releasing Cinderella on blu-ray and DVD combo disc on October 2.
The 8 year old girl in my is so geeked out. Soo geeked out. Cinderella ranks as my 3rd all time favorite Disney moves. Let's visit my top 5 in order, because I'm sure you care.
The Little Mermaid I watched this movie so much that the VHS beginning warpled. I had a Ariel doll that came in the bath with me and I remember thinking her life must be awesome because she gets to live under water. The minute it comes out on Blu-ray, I'm buying the one with the extra stuff in it.
Beauty and the Beast I loved Belle when I first saw her. Her brown hair, her blue dress, how she loved to read. I loved that she was smarter than the other townspeople. I had all of the song on VHS and probably still do some where.
Cinderella I loved the idea of singing birds and mice. I also wished for glass slippers like hers as a girl. Now as an adult I think what a horrible, horrible idea that sounds like. But they were oh so sparkly.
Sleeping Beauty I use to dance around like Aurora does in the forest. I remember thinking living in the forest would be so awesome. It also featured a dragon, which My Dad to this day still loves, so I remember liking it for that reason.
Aladdin I loved Jasmin's wit. She was smart and adventurous. Plus her beautiful singing voice. And who wouldn't want to go on a magic carpet ride through the clouds?
The main reason I still love Disney movies is because they remind me of being little. When dancing around in my mom's old clothes and thinking I was a princess was socially acceptable. I also like watching them with A. now. I don't care what anyone says, the harmDisney does to kids through their stories of princesses, blah blah blah. I like them. A. likes them. We can watch them together. If in the future he has an delusions about a women's worth, I'll handle it then. Right now, we will keep watching and singing along.
When I hosted book club I had posted a few recipes I had made, the pineapple salsa and the caprese salad on a stick. The one I didn't post was making mini mac and cheese cups. I got the recipe from pinterest and aparently I'm the only idiot who couldn't make it work. I think maybe because I tried to rush it and used store bought mac and cheese. I don't know. But it failed. The bottom crust was too crumbly and while my friends ate it, it wasn't a pretty sight.
This got me thinking, maybe if I make the base for the mac and cheese out of something else. What else? Bacon. Bacon is always the answer.
It turns out lots of other's have had this idea as well. MerrimentDesign has a fantastical tuturial on how to make a large bacon cup that were inspired by Not Martha who also has a beautiful tutorial.
I tried this, but of course, my own way. Which resulted in less than steller results. Not that it didn't work and not that the cheesy bacony goodness wasn't awesome just as in, this recipe takes too damn long to make. I suppose if I was making these for friends and wanted to show off, I would make them again. But just for The Husband and A.? No, no I wouldn't. Why? Cause they don't care what form bacon comes in, as long as there is bacon.
Bacon Mac and Cheese Cups These did taste good, definitly not good for me, but oh so tasty.
Ingredients shell mac and cheese - or whatever kind you like, home made or in the box, cooked 1 8oz pkg of bacon - I used the thin kind Equipment paper towels olive oil spray jumbo muffin tin
Directions Take your paper towel and rip it in half. Then fold it and put it inside the jumbo muffin tin. Spray with olive oil and form it around the muffin tin.
Take one piece of bacon and fold it over on it's self. Take a second slice, folded over on it's self, and lay it over the first piece so you have a X made out of bacon. Fan out the slices a bit till you have a bacon cup.
Bake in over at 375 degrees for 20 minutes. My cups shrunk up a bit but stayed in a cup form. They are not as rigid as the ones from the sites above. Mine were more floppy free form bowls but I don't like crispy burnt bacon.
Remove cups and carefully blot out excess grease that will be in the cup. Yuck.
Tonight is shabbat and while very traditional Jews do not use electricity (and 612 other mitzvot) I am using it to do continue to read and think about Judaism. Tonight's topic, why haven't I convented yet?
It's now going on two years since I first started considering it. I thought about it a lot tonight as I lit the shabbat candles and said the blessings with A. I was remined about the last times I made changes in my faith.
The first time, when I picked Christianity, it was because it was familiar. I knew My Mom was a Christian as were my friends and family. It was an easy choice and at 10, I barely put any thought into it. I enjoyed youth group because I could hang out with my friends and cute boys on Sunday night as long as I talked about the joys of Jesus at length.
Then around 13 I began questioning myself, my opinions and thoughts; 13 year olds have a way of being pain in the asses like that. I had a friend from out of town who practiced Wicca and she said I would like it. So I practiced Wicca, liberally, for about three years or so. It was interesting to say the least but wasn't quite right.
Then at 17 I started dating the man I dated before The Husband. We were pen pals originally, it started when I was 13 and he was 15; we met in a Yahoo chat room circa 1998. We later started dating when he came over to finish his bachelors at Caltech on a student visa. He is one of two guinnesses I have ever met in real life.
The first one was my first husband who I married at age 5 after he gave me a plastic spider ring. Classy. He was the son of my mom's best friend and he had such beautiful eyes and the best bike on our block. He is now the director of debate at MSU Honors College.
The second guiness holds a Ph.D in physics and is a postdoctoral fellow (yes I had to look up what that meant) at Stanford. It is a completely crazy story, our 3 year relationship. And yes, I stalked him recently through Google to see what he was up to, The Husband knows. I really do wish him all the best at his research of particles and strings and math.Well anyways, dating a scientist was, interesting. He had no tolerance for religion and I simply let my beliefs go because trying to debate religion with a scientist was just easier.
So then I was nothing for a long time because it was just easier to be lazy. Not an atheist, more agnostic. Open to the idea of G-d but not sure where I stood. That was fine for the longest time.
So now, when I'm pretty sure I have a new path to follow, I'm a bit hesitant. I don't want to look back at this path years from now and add it to the other paths I've taken along the way. I hope that my hesitance is simply because I want to get it right this time. Get it right for me, just for me.
Before I got pregnant with A. I spent a good amount of time looking at inspiration for nurseries. Once I got pregnant we decided to be suprised and not find out what we were having. I had some crazy idea about reusing the bedding set and I will probably use parts of it, like the sheets and boppy, but the next baby will be our last and I want to go nuts.
We didn't have much room for a nursery, after all, we lived in a one bedroom apartment, so I couldn't go all crazy or anything last time. A.'s nursery consisted of the extra five feet at the end of our bed, not joking.
This was his crib. My Dad bought it and it is a beautiful crib, very study. It's one that converts to a toddler bed, then day bed and finally a full size bed. A. wouldn't come to realize this until he was 15 months old because we co-slept with him until we moved to the house, but you know, it looked nice as it took up space.
We didn't know what we were having officially, though I just felt like it was a boy from early on, so I picked a gender neutral black, yellow and green bee theme. The bees were a nod to the Seabees, which is what The Husband belonged to at the time in the Navy.
And this was his changing station which was a handy-me down dresser that we still use for A. We slapped the changing pad on top, put up two shelves and called it good. And honestly, that was A.'s nursery. So this time when we started TTC I went nuts again looking at nursery pictures. I mean, we freakin own a house now. With four bedrooms. Of course any future baby would have it's own nursery! Until the realization that our house is split, with two up and two down. It should be noted that The Husband pointed this flaw out while buying the house, I simply ignored him. I'm not leaving a toddler and a newborn upstairs while we move down stairs and sure as hell isn't going to be the other way. I also can't put a newborn in A.'s room, he is a crappy sleeper and on top of it, has night terrors where I'll be honest, he screams, yells, hits and whatnot. So um, no. So that leaves the baby going in our room, which is actually exactly what I want anyways. I feel strongly about room sharing and besides, I would be too nervous to have the baby too far away. Plus I'm too lazy too walk more than a few feet in the dark to get to a fussy baby.
On top of it, I don't even know if this baby will sleep in a crib or if we will co-sleep like we did with A.; I'm leaving that one open ended. But assuming the baby does sleep in a crib, what kind of space are we looking at? Just slightly more than what we had to work with before. Our room is bigger, it's at least 10 by 12 but we also upgraded to a king sized bed and that takes up loads of the room. So once again, I have room for a crib, hamper and a rocker. Woohoo. Which means, any future "nursery" is going to be all about the bedding. Some bedding sets I love include..
This Bubblegum bedding set from Posh Tots is so bright and colorful, I don't know how you couldn't love it. I think it would go well for a either boy or girl and leaves you open for any kind of accessories in any of those colors.
The Ryleigh bedding set from Caden Lane. I love the colors and all of the patterns in this bedding set. They have a second version as well that has more pink, but I love the robin eggs blue one the best.
This Pixie Baby bedding in aqua set is a bit less intense than the Ryleigh set but simular colors.
This set by Land of Nod, which the call, In the Mix, is less about different colors and more about a monochromatic one. I love the scaloped egde on the crib skirt.
Now what about boy crib bedding sets? Well, first off, I hate almost all of them. I'm sorry but just because a boy has a penis doesn't mean he has to like trains, cars and footballs. Those all rock, don't get me wrong, but why are all of the boy options either so boring or sports related? The only one I've found so far that I like that would fit well with A.'s room which is already blue, grey, red, orange, green and purple would be:
The solid stripes bedding from Land of Nod in grey, red and blue is a simple one. It doesn't have many colors but the simplicity is nice.
So many bedding options out in the world, so very few I like.
I do not like many veggies. I'll eat them because I know I should, but usually by the time I want to eat them, they are no longer good for me. Cheese? Yes! Deep fried? You bet? Plain? Only with dip.
So when I started making this soup about two years ago The Husband though I was nuts. It has so many freakin veggies in it even I'm not sure I would make it if I came across the recipe. But trust me, this is good soup. Not, I can't believe there are no veggies in this soup, soup. I don't make such claims. Instead, it's a good, hearty soup that I like year round that doesn't make me feel that bad for having bowls of it in one sitting. Even A. will humor me and eat the noddles out of it.
Creamy Sun Dried Tomato Garden Veggie Soup This is kind of one of those throw every thing in the fridge and pantry, soups. The veggies I use every time change. Usually by what I have in the grocery budget, what's on sale or what's in season. All of this can be made using the fresh version, but when I'm trying to whip this soup up quick, I use a ratio of canned and fresh as noted below to speed up time. You can also skip the goat cheese altogether for less calories or sub it for feta or sour cream if goat isn't your thing.This makes a good amount of soup, my stock pot holds 8 quarts. The base freezes well on this soup, just don't freeze it with noddles. Frozen noodles look and taste gross.
Ingredients 1.5 lbs of half boiled red skin potatoes, chopped
olive oil - enough to cover the bottom of your stock pot 1 teaspoon minced garlic 8 oz sliced fresh mushrooms 1/2 small onion (yellow or white, whatever I have on hand) 2 stalks of celery, chopped finely 1 - 14.5oz can of sweet corn 2 - 9oz cans of slice carrots
1 - 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes 1 - 46 oz can of V8 1 - 29 oz of petite tomatoes + juice 1.5 cups water 3.5 oz of sun dried tomatoe pesto (depending on the intensity, adjust per taste) 4-6 oz soft goat cheese (I use whatever form is on sale, it all melts the same) 1 small yellow squash
8 oz rotinni noodles, cooked
Directions Boil your potatoes so they are half way done; they will finish with the rest of the soup.
Lightly saute the garlic, mushrooms, onion, celery, corn and carrots in the olive oil.
Add in your crushed tomatoes, V8, petite tomatoes, water, pesto, goat cheese and squash. Bring to a simmer, stiring all of the ingredients together until the goat cheese melts.
Add your noodles to each bowl individually and add veggie soup on top.
So the whole point of my blog is because I like to talk and ramble, and rambling to people I know at work and home, just isn't enough.
It also serves as an on-going record of what was going on in our lives at the time. Obvouisly not every thing going on, that would be too weird. But I always like looking back at posts myself and remembering.
That being said, I think I want to try a new schedule for posting. Give me something to follow because my ADHD brain is a bit scattered. That being said, I'm lazy, so it will probably work for a week at the most, but I think I might try the following:
On Mondays: posts about the home. This could mean anything from a new recipe to a DIY project for the house and everything in between.
Wednesdays: posts about kids. Same thing, either activies I've done with A., a DIY for kids or just something awesome I saw about kids.
Fridays: random post day. Kinda like what I've been doing along. Whatever random thought that pops in my head, that's for Friday.
It seems to work for other blogs, they seem to have a better flow. Plus, I do like writing afterall, specially about me. I mean, if I didn't, why would I even keep a blog?
Do you ever look back at pictures you've taken and think, man, I rock at taking pictures? Well maybe you do but I don't. Occasionally though I take a good photo. I took the following one on our trip to Florida. We were visiting The Husband's family, who were living down there at the time. I snapped this this at the nature reserve/camping ground The Husband's grandma was at.
I think the choice in wording is awesome. Just awesome.
And on another completely random note, obvouisly I got the blogging thing figured out. And by figuring it out I mean I snatched up a net book on sale at Target on Sunday. I swear it's better than our lap top and was cheaper. Damn 2008 technology versus today.
Second side note, I spelled alligators wrong originally in the title and now the url is jacked up... and I'm too lazy to figure out how to fix it. Oh well!
I got a reminder in the mail that A. needs to go for his yearly allergy check up. Which reminded me that I've never told the story about when A. had a life threatening allergic reaction to amoxicillin. So here goes...
I mentioned a long time ago that A. had a deathly allergic reaction to amoxicillin right after he turned 2. As melodramatic as it may sound, I haven't wrote about it until now because I'm still very upset about it. It was by far the scariest day of my entire life. I have never been that scared or shaken to the very depths of my soul. Thinking about him being in the ER still sends my stomach for a loop and rattles my nerves. But I think it's important to retell the story if only for my own piece of mind to put it out of my mind. Be warned, this is long and has pictures...
It all began when A. came down with a cold that October. He was given a course of amoxicillin for a cough that just wouldn't go away and it seemed to help a bit. But by the end of December he still seemed to have a cough some nights that he just couldn't shake. So I brought him in and he was given another course of amoxicillin. This was by the way, the third time he had had amoxicillin, the first when he was very young for a urinary tract infection.
He was on day seven of ten of the amoxicillin when I noticed that morning that he seemed to have a diaper rash, but it was at the top of the diaper where the band is. I thought this was odd but kept an eye on it. At the next diaper change I noticed it had crawled up to his belly. I called my mom who said to call the doctor. The doctor couldn't see him so he suggested we bring him into urgent care. By the time I brought him to urgent care, within the hour, A. had big red hives all over his belly. The doctor explained that A. had had a mild reaction to amoxicillin but he should be fine, granted as long as he didn't run a fever or the rash changed colors or shape. They sent us home with a dose of steroids and told us to give him benadryl. We gave him a bath in oatmeal and covered him in anti-itch lotion. The next morning A. started to have a fever, a low one, 101.1 but still a fever. We called his doctor and we went in right away. His doctor said it was still fine and suspected that A. still had the infection from the cough and gave us a new antibiotic, zithromax. He said as long as A.'s hives didn't get worse or he started to swell up, he would be fine. So we went home again and settled in for the night. That night A. was restless and slept poorly. I spent most of the night rocking him and gave him a dose of ibuprofen at midnight to keep his fever down. A. finally fell asleep but woke up around 5am crying. The kind of cry that makes your heart beat so fast it feels like it's going to explode out of your chest. The Husband had left for work already so I ran into his room. I picked him up and noticed he was red hot and slightly puffy on his fingers. He had a fever of 103.7 and his hives had started to turn purple in the centers. I called his doctor and was told to give him another dose of ibuprofen and wait a bit to see if his fever went down. I decided to trust that advice despite my instinct otherwise. I should have listened to my mom instinct. I should have brought him then. I still feel immense guilt. Instead I called my mom who came over. She got there around 6am and she suggested we give A. a luke warm bath, to see if we could comfort him. A. bawled. I wrapped him in the towel and rocked him for the next two hours. I called his doctor again but was put on hold. I decided that I didn't care what the doctor said and my mother and I got A. dressed and drove to the ER. I have never felt so much panic in my entire life. The drive to the ER which takes 4 minutes from our house felt like it took four hours. I was shaking by the time we got there.
A. was brought back to the ER instantly. I learned that nothing gets you into the ER faster than a bright pink, swollen and crying toddler. The next hour is a blur of having to restrain A. along with four nurses for blood tests, putting in an IV and retelling what had happened the days before.
I kept reassuring myself that everything was fine, they could get this under control and it was all okay. I believed this until the moment when I overheard on the hospital communication system the alert going off for a possible pediatric administration. I heard the nurses outside the room ask if the heli-pad was ready and had someone informed the local children's hospital. I began silently sobbing.
The thought still brings tears to my eyes. It became real at that moment how serous it was. The Husband, who I had left messages at work for, showed up shortly after that. I will always remember the pure fear I saw in his eyes when he came into that room. My in-laws and sister-in-law showed up shortly after that.
The doctor in the ER decided that A. had to be admitted to the peds floor at the least to be observed to assure that the swelling didn't close off his airway but they had stopped the swelling just in time. They believed it was a life threatening allergic reaction to the amoxicillin and prepared us that if things became any worse or didn't become better within the next few hours, they would need to air lift A. to the children's hospital 45 minutes away. I remember feeling like I could vomit.
Before we were transferred up to the children's floor all of the ER doctors came into the room to examine A. and his back. My sister-in-law thought to take a picture of his back. I warn you, even as his mother, it makes my stomach turn.
Now, in case someone runs across this by a random search for children with life threatening allergic reactions to amoxicillin, this was A.'s back an hour after two oral doses from the days before and an IV dose of steroids in the ER. The picture actually dulls the color because in real life it looked like we had colored him with a pink highlighter. As you can see, A. presented with raised bright pink splotches with dark purple in the inside of many of them. The pink splotches covered his entire little body. The nurses and doctors were all perplexed by his spots. His allergist he sees who is one of a hand full of allergist on our side of the state who specializes in very young children with life threatening allergies said his hives where the worst reaction she has seen in her entire practice, ever.
By the time we got up to the peds floor, A. was exhausted and asleep from screaming and crying. I felt drunk. The Husband looked like he had aged 10 years in an hour.
Eventually we got settled into his room and after explaining the story, again, to the doctor on the floor and the nurses who came in to stare at his hives, we got something to eat and settled in.
The next few days were blurs or crying, toddler rage fueled by massive steroids and disapproving looks from nurses who didn't like that I was co-sleeping with A. I even had to sign a waiver releasing the hospital in case A. fell out of the bed. I signed it with no problem. I understand logically and legally why I made them nervous. They like children in those cribs. But A. bawled when I put him in it. He and I slept better together.
He had many visitors and got to watch lots of TV. I think out of everyone, he took and handled it the best.
Every day they ran more tests. The pictures above are on the 2nd or 3rd day of his 5 day stay. You can see what looks like dark bruising or birth marks on his thighs. By the 3rd day the swelling and redness had went away only to leave horrible purple marks.
By the 4th day they took his IV out and had him on oral doses of everything. They had a little car he would zoom around the halls. He was rather upset when I told him it had to stay there.
The little gowns they had him wear, green trim with tigers on them, annoyed him. They were scratchy he complained, but erm, liquid IV drugs do yucky things to bowel systems so I kept him in them. I'm sorry to the nurses who had to help me a few times clean him up.
Nurses really and truly rock. The hospital as a whole was very nice. They made special food for A. and made sure that they had snacks he liked, cheese sticks, crackers, yogurts, popsicle and apple juice always stocked up in the little fridge families have access too. They also made sure that I got to pick out a meal on top of A.'s meal. I know it seems dumb or silly to be thankful for something I know I was billed for anyways, but the simple fact of not having to worry about my meals made a huge difference.
I just felt bad for everyone else. Everyone else still had to go to work. I didn't. I couldn't. I know that I could have left him at the hospital and went to work but I was working at Target. Target.
Every day after work The Husband would come and snuggle with A. while I would run home and take a shower or run a quick errand.
In the end, A. was discharged on day 5 and was told that he should never be given amoxicillin, penicillin or any antibiotics.
His allergist feels his body doesn't know what to do with antibiotics. She was even more highly concerned that his reaction got worse, not better, with steroids. She reviewed his chart and was amazed at how much steroids they had had to use in order to get his body under control. She has found that with her patients who have had reactions similar to his, later have reactions to all other antibiotics. The idea that he shouldn't get sick was a startling one. Eventually his allergist agreed he could take zithromax, due to some chemical compound reasoning I didn't follow, but only if absolutely necessary. He has had zithromaxonce since his reaction. He did fine.
In the end, he's fine. But at the time it was terrifying. I would never wish that kind of pain on anyone.
There are a bunch of lists floating around Pinterest about chores for kids based on their ages. Most seem logical and a bunch of them we do with A. already. His current chores (with supervision) include:
feeding the cats, dog and fish
setting the table with the plates and silver wear
helping sort and put laundry in the washer and dryer
helping put groceries away
That's about it. The one chore I don't make him do is pick up his play room. Remember how I showed you what the play room looks like? Well those pictures were before I let A. play in the play room. Now it looks like this...
See that over turned shopping cart? Yup, it's been like that for days.
And this is his kitchen I'm in the process of redoing. It needs doors and curtains and all that kind of happy crap. In the meantime, it looks like this.
And his cube organizer? It currently organizes mostly air.
And why don't I make him pick up his play room? Why don't I care? Because I'm too damn tired at the end of the day and it has a door. A door I close and pretend I don't know the mess it contains. So don't be fooled if A. and I were to come to your house and I make him pick up the toys, it's a show.
*I have to write this out. Because I don't have any where else to write it. Because the dream is already fading.
I had a dream last night. It was the one of those that seems so real that when you wake up, you’re left lingering in the dream, still feeling the emotions you had in it.
I was nursing a small boy. His head was full of brown hair and he was wearing a light green onsie, the one A. use to wear, that says “Mommy’s little monster” with a small, cute monster on the front.
He’s nursing on my left side, perfect latch. A champ at nursing. His fingers are tiny but past the curl around your finger stage. We’re sitting outside. It seems like in a forest. Or trees. I don’t know where or why. But it’s sunny and calm.
He breaks the latch and I have to relatch him. I tell him, “Samuel, open your mouth” and show him the “O”. I use to do that with A. The latacian consultant said to do it, maybe A. would mimic it, she said. He never did.
He, Samuel, nurses for just a few seconds more before finishing. I burp him and lay him next to me.
Then I woke up.
It’s the kind of dream that is in the same moment, the best dream you could have and the worst. It’s the best dream because in my brain, it’s what I want most. It’s the worst dream because it’s not happening anytime soon.
I got up and got dressed. Fed the cats and walked the dog. A. woke up and I got him downstairs. We played Lego Pirates for a few minutes before Papa and Yaya got there.
I smiled at A. even though I was sad inside. I'm still suprised I'm sad. I still feel odd that I'm sad. I still haven't told more than a handfull of people. It seems weird now. Like it didn't happen. I know one miscarriage and eight months of TTC isn't much or long at all. I know.
So I tried to enjoy my moment with A. Remind myself that I am lucky. I have a wonderful little boy. Here. Now. The reminder helped. A bit.