Vivi and I are figuring out a system.

One element of that system is that she now showers with me, strange, but kind of a must given that her favorite thing to do in my room when left unattended is turn the volume dial on the stereo all the way up, then turn the stereo on. Addie did the same thing once at Vivi’s age and literally scared the crap out of herself, Vivi just thinks it’s hysterical.

After breakfast we head upstairs, she runs to the side of the tub tearing at her clothes while simultaneously trying to dive head first into the tub. Once she’s undressed, she sits down and splashes in the water by my feet. Occasionally she’ll take a pouf and scrub my leg and I can always count on getting poked in my bellybutton at least once. Once I’m all clean I rinse out the bubbles, put in the stopper and fill the tub with a few inches of water so I can get ready and she can stay entertained and contained. Oh master bathroom, you’re the best.

We take a little walk everyday after lunch, they’ve become shorter as it has become colder but they maintain the same pattern: wave at the planes, bark at the dogs, poke mom with all the sticks, throw all the rocks, tweet at all the birds and scream “BYE!” to all the cars.

If we were to have kids close in age like my sister and I are I would need to be 6 months pregnant right now.

(Can you hear the hysterical voices laughing in my head?)

We still call Vivi the baby, and far as all of us are concerned? She is a baby. While we’re certainly not throwing our hands up in the air and saying NO MORE BABIES FOR US! but we are in agreement that we’ll let Vivi be our baby for as long as possible, even if that means forever.

After Addie there was so much to worry about when it came to having a second baby beyond the stress of simply getting and staying pregnant. Vomiting through pregnancy, antenatal depression, postpartum depression and all that other stuff that comes with newborns. With Vivi all those problems were there, except for the postpartum depression. Sure, secondary infertility was a fat stupid blowhole, but Vivi came exactly when she was supposed to. I earned a big old gold sticker in patience and trusting in the will of God when it comes to babies with that little six year trial.

Vomiting through pregnancy? Pretty darn horrible. But I had (and continue to have) an amazing support system around me and generic Zofran for $12, amen.

Antenatal depression? Look, if there is any argument or debate I’m willing to go all in on it’s the one about depression medication while pregnant. Something in my brain is wired completely wrong and it will never be fixed with surgery or lots of good, happy thoughts. When the risk to me and my unborn baby outweigh the possible side effects of medication while pregnant? I’ll take the pill and thank modern medicine, thank you very much.

My labors are easy (thanks wide hips!) my babies come out healthy (thanks God, genetics, modern medicine, and body for working in unison on that one!) and while postpartum depression nearly did me in with Addie, it didn’t even touch me with Vivi, meaning that I have been able to spend the last 18 months fully immersed in my own life and it has been wonderful.

Funny how when something terrible ends on a good note it can shift our whole perception of an event if we let it.

Take Cody and me for example, we had an awful three years that culminated in what I call the horrible ugly. We stuck it out, fought for us and now ours is a true love story better than most anything Hollywood could come up with. If you were to ask me in the thick of the horrible ugly if marriage was worth it? I would have thrown things just to watch them break. But if you ask me now? I will say that marriage, even with all of its crap, growing pains and potential garbage is the very best thing I have done with my life.

Ask me how much I’m looking forward to another baby as I’m barfing in aisle 8 at noon on a Tuesday? I’ll punch you.

Ask me after the last 18 months of magic with this little face?

I’ll scream “BABIES FOR EVERYONE!”

We can’t lie about the ugly when we tell others about our sweet, that isn’t fair. And when we find ourselves envying the position of others we must take into consideration how much gunk they’ve waded through to get where they are at.

In order to distinguish light, we have to have darkness.

In order to have any frame of reference or gratitude for true happiness? We have to know absolute misery.

I am happier than I have ever been at this point not because I fit in a certain size, have great hair, a great family or a great job.

I am happy because I have gone through so much to get here, I can accept that great won’t last forever, but it will always come back if I’m willing to acknowledge it when it does.

You could set three dozen of the greatest baby toys to ever exist in front of Vivi and she would manage to find the one piece of cat food on the floor and eat it.

You could set a hundred more toys in front of her with one butcher knife thrown in for good measure and she would head straight for the butcher knife. (Not that we just leave butcher knives lying around…)

The only toy that can really hold her attention right now is a little yellow car. She pushes and pulls it around, rolls it across her legs and chews on the wheels.

I’m grateful there’s at least one thing that will distract her because dude, my dad’s house is a labyrinth of solid wood furniture with very stabby corners and sharp edges. Over there in the corner? An 8 foot cactus, just in case the deadly furniture and slate tile stairs weren’t enough of a baby proofing challenge. Day 4 and so far she only has one bruise on her cheek from where she lost a very unfair battle with an oak buffet.

*********

We’re all just sitting around, waiting for my sister to have her baby already.

I’m just going to go ahead and admit that when she got pregnant with the greatest of ease the old infertility wounds that had long since been smoothed over by Vivi began to bubble up and itch. Now that I’m here and my nephews arrival is imminent, I feel nothing but excitement and pride, perhaps a tad bit of over-protectiveness as well. She is happy, my family is happy, *I* am happy.

And hot dang if happy doesn’t look good on all of us.

Today the Internet is supposed to blackout to protest! boycott! STICK IT TO THE MAN! in regards to SOPA.

But I can’t blackout today, too many of you are hurting (and truth be told if I blacked out the chances of you ever seeing me again would be super slim, technological I am not.)

Divorce, depression, difficult life situations, abusive partners, unfaithful spouses, strong willed children, infertility…while I can’t fix how broken you feel, I can say that I have survived many of the things you are dealing with.

I am still here.

Stronger than I have ever been.

Perhaps by not blacking out I’m saying in my own way why SOPA needs to make like a tree and leave, we need each other. Forget movies studios and wealthy musicians, regular everyday people like me need regular everyday people like you to go through the messy stuff together, even if it’s just through words typed out on a screen.

I fell down, you caught me and waited for me to stand up again.

Now that you’re down I can’t forget how much you supported me.

While I can’t do much, I can do what you did for me.

You can make it out of the other side of this. You will make it out of the other side of this. Perhaps a little more battle weary than you’d prefer and with a few more scars…but you will get stronger, perhaps not today, but eventually.

You are stronger than anything broken inside you.

Please take care of each other.

**************

Not to downplay the severity of this particular topic, I close with a humorous picture of my chubby naked baby.

I figure if she makes me happy, she’ll probably do the same for you.

xoxo

Coming here from Indy Style? Hi! Hope I didn’t have anything coming out of my nose during my segment.

Looking for the cold and flu product giveaway? You can find that here.

Curious about what I do here? Over on the right are links to some of my most favorite posts and most popular categories including depression, pregnancy, infertility and photography.

Up there is my baby. I have a one eyed cat and a curly headed seven year old who just had a birthday.

Are you a regular around here? HI. I sure do like you. Thanks for coming back.

How’s your holiday season going? Mine? Superb.

Yes and no.

But mostly yes, for me at least.

After almost five years of an ugly struggle with infertility, I came to peace with it in late 2009. Nothing could have gotten me there sooner, it was something that had to resolve itself in its own time. I wrote this the day before I found out I was pregnant. It remains one of my most favorite things I’ve ever written as I could only write it after going through what I had experienced..

Within Vivi’s first three months, best friend became pregnant with her fourth by surprise and my only sister became pregnant after a month without any struggles.

The news of both thumped me in the heart pretty hard, but they weren’t the sucker punches they would have been a year earlier.

I am excited to have to new little boys in my life, one in January and one in April.

I can hear pregnancy news and respond to it with the genuine joy it deserves.

I don’t see swollen bellies everywhere I go.

I can still read the words of someone who is stuck in the murky thick of infertility and know the uniquely exquisite pain that envelops their heart.

I can think about getting pregnant again and focus on the end result, not the gut wrenching journey it takes to get there.

This baby has been the best thing to ever happen to me, I just had to go through everything else first to be able to appreciate her.

Cody, Addie and I were good, but with Vivi we’re great. I’m finally to a point in my life where there is so much wonderful the misery has a hard time ever making it to the surface.

I wish every life story could have a chapter in it like the one I’m living right now, or at least give hope to your current story that you will end up happy. I don’t know how, on what timeline, or how long it will last, but it will happen and when it does I wish even more that you are able to recognize and enjoy it.

To those of you who are still fighting for your babies? Keep fighting.

They are so worth it.

Dear Casey,

I don’t want to be all “I told you so,” but really, you should have written this post as it was intended three days ago when you woke up from a dead sleep thinking about it. Now things have changed, there has been an emotional shift in your very existence and that letter you wanted to write yourself? Won’t be the same now. But instead of I told you so I’ll do the best with what you’ve left me with.

This baby thing is going to be hard the second time around. Six and a half years is plenty of time to forget about newborns, diapers, strollers, feeding schedules and naps. Not to mention the whole breastfeeding thing. Do you even remember how often babies have to go to the doctor? Or the crying? I’m not sure you do. But regardless you have been losing sleep over the excitement and joy of holding that tiny little baby in your arms. You have spent hours in Mozzi’s room rocking in that old yellow chair thinking about how long it’s been since someone has fallen asleep in your arms.  Your mind gets lost when you think about sniffing a warm, fuzzy little head and the anticipation of those tiny contented baby sighs? Better than Christmas. There was even a moment during the hospital tour where you got so excited about what’s going to happen that you actually had to squelch a squee.

You’ve done an awfully good job at enjoying every moment Mozzi has spent in you. I know you’re sad she has to vacate the premises, but there’s two other people that live with you who can’t wait to hang out with her too. You’re going to have to share sometime, and sometime is coming soon.

Which is where the emotional shift has happened.

This is really happening. Sunday you’ll be full term and so many worries that plague pregnant women will be behind you. It’s really all down the birth canal from here. There is going to be blood. There is going to be pain. There are going to be tears. There is going to be an adjustment period. There are going to be quarrels in the name of exhaustion. I know Cody doesn’t want to you to get all bent out of shape about any of it because things ARE going to be different this time. But at the same time I understand how you work. You need to feel out those worst case scenarios…contingency plans. They’re how you roll. They’re how you survived law school, lupron, depression, infertility and parenthood the first time around.

I have to say I am so proud of you for taking care of yourself. Yes, you lost a lot of friends in the process, but you had to take care of you. You took naps when you needed them. You have never felt guilty for going to bed early or taking a long bath when you hurt. You ate what you wanted to when you needed to and you even managed to gag down those prenatal vitamins. Even more importantly? You asked for, and got help when you needed it most. You are happy today because you have taken care of yourself and allowed others to take care of you over these last 36 weeks.

The perfect balance of appreciation and self preservation.

Finally, the latest and greatest of your worries. That man you’re married to. I know you feel as though you just got him back, that you guys finally figured this marriage thing out and now you’re going to have to share him with not one but two other ladies. He loves you so much. I would guess it’s natural to fear and question if your relationship will ever be the same, there’s some rough months ahead for you two, full of sleepless nights and leaky boobs. But you’ve already made it through so much. I know the reason you’re so scared is because you love him so much it hurts. He’s yours, for time and all eternity. Like he said today, he’s not going anywhere, and even more importantly, school is over. (Psst, Cody! Casey’s favorite flowers are peonies. Buy her some when they come in season, okay? Thanks.)

Keep taking care of yourself. This will all go by so quickly. Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know I’m right. Nipples can only stay bloody for so long. There will again come a day when all of your laundry will be folded and put away. One day you will even get to sleep in. Or shower. Or nap.

It’s going to be hard, but good hell if it isn’t going to be worth it.

xoxo- yourself.

Apparently there’s a reason to party in my tummy.

Did you see this?

Apparently a crap ton of you are in on it and have been since like, forever and I had no idea.

Cody included.

HOW DO YOU PEOPLE KEEP SECRETS? Can you write a book? And can I get a galley copy of said book?

Because secrets? Are not on my “major life skills list.” Also not on that list? The ability to sit through A Capella performances. Or watch commercials that feature monkeys dressed as humans acting as humans.

So anyway. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. And with love for my Emily, and for everyone who has agreed to help her.

I must have done something right somewhere in my life to have such amazing people in it.

Thank you. All of you.

(Also, this post about infertility is easily the best one I have ever read. Ever. Emily sent it to me.)

I can never ever forget where I came from that got me to this point.

Jealously that almost ruined my best friendship.

Anger and bitterness that drove people away.

Friendships lost because the hole in my heart was too big to manage.

Nearly alienating my only sister because of one comment.

Almost losing my marriage and my own life to a medical treatment because I was so desperate for a baby.

If I didn’t have my archives to go back and read I may be able to think about the past five years differently. I know a lot of you had hope for me, you knew this would happen for me when I didn’t. There were even a few of you who sent me “I told you so’s.”

There are also those of you who have come forward to admit that you stopped reading my words because you felt guilty for having what I longed for so badly.

There have also been some who have pegged all of your hopes on me. “IF YOU CAN DO IT SO CAN I!” or “WHY YOU AND NOT ME?”

And then there are those of you who have lost much longed for babies. I can’t even pretend to know the pain associated with such a loss, I only know the fear, and the fear on its own is crippling.

When a painful five year journey ends in an instant, and suddenly your entire life is about to change in less than 36 weeks? Five years doesn’t seem like such a long time.

I know I was guilty of turning my back on my friends who became pregnant when I couldn’t. I am so deeply remorseful for this. I was so busy licking my own wounds that I lashed out at those who didn’t deserve it. I can’t thank God enough for giving me the last year to realize my mistakes, rectify some of them and come to peace with what may or may not be in store for me.

I feel like a hypocrite writing the following words when I know that I was guilty of doing the same thing. As soon as I announced my pregnancy I could feel a two handed shove, the kind that whips your head back, shoving me out of the classification of infertile and into unfamiliar territory.

I’m not sure I can ever take my rightful place among the other side. It took way too much to get here to ever take this pregnancy for granted. I mingle with the other side. Make jokes about cravings and poop. But I can’t ever truly turn away from that other group, the one I was a part of for so long, the one I spoke up for and the one that supported me when I couldn’t support myself anymore. I feel as though when I look back at them, their backs are all turned to me. “Traitor” they mumble.

“But…but! You guys! I get it! I know how you feel!”

They turn for a moment, look at my swollen belly, roll their eyes and turn away.

Maybe I know their mannerisms so well because I did the same thing for so long.

It’s lonely out here in the middle. There’s very few people out here with me. Or maybe there’s more of you, we just haven’t talked about it yet.

I don’t want to be the story someone tells to an infertile friend, “Well there’s this blog I read, she tried for years…surgery…hormone treatments…she had finally given up and then WHAMMY! it happened!”

I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that conversation. I know how to mechanically smile and nod in response, not letting on to how frustrated and hurt I am inside.

I am so deliriously happy that I sometimes forget that there are women around me at the grocery store or online that are giving me the same dirty look I’ve given so many women in the past. If I were to catch one of them and hear their story and try to relate I wouldn’t be taken as a credible source, simply because the stars aligned and I was fertile for one magic moment.

I don’t know why this has been so hard for me to write about. Maybe it’s because I can still feel the shove to my back while the sting is still on my hands from shoving others.

I don’t have an answer.

But I know I’ll never forget. Especially since I’ll never quite belong here or there.