Hey - Remember Me? I'm the Crazy One Who Just Had a Baby.

I am sure that the few blog readers who are still following this blog will be disappointed to hear that this post is being written by NKC, but let me reassure you, THC will continue to provide his unique, jaw-droppingly insane, politically incorrect commentary on parenting in future posts.  I just have a lot to share right now... and this time, I'm approaching it with total honesty to myself (and to whoever is reading this).  As THC puts it, as we re-read some of my posts from 2010, I was definitely trying to "dress up a turd."  I think I used the phrase "GHC is a happy little camper" or "I am fine" a little too much to be remotely believable.

First things first.  I had a baby.  No sh*t.  We did it again.  I am sure anyone who knows us was surprised by this news when we first got pregnant.  We spent so much time and energy complaining about what a horrible experience we had with GHC's first year -- why on earth would we do it again?

Well, the answer is pretty complicated.  And even to this day, we're still not totally sure why we did it again.  For me, the only reason I could give you is the simple feeling that my family "wasn't quite complete".... that something was missing.  And for THC, the real reason may be that I forced him to want this.

And so, about a year and a half ago, despite our horrible experience with GHC, we quietly and nervously started to try to get pregnant again.  And some months later, with no success, I went to see a doctor just to confirm everything was looking good.  They did some routine testing -- found some abnormalities and referred me to an endocrinologist.

Naively, I didn't fully realize that an endocrinologist is fancy talk for fertility doctor.  And even more naively, I assumed this fertility doctor would simply be able to give me a pill to take to even out any hormonal imbalances.

When doctors sit you down in an office, and not in an exam room, you should be prepared for bad news.  I wasn't.  So, you can imagine my shock and devastation when I found out I was likely unable to get pregnant on my own.

I won't go into the details of my medical condition, but the doctor gave me some pretty grim statistics, and eventually recommended I start discussing fertility treatment options with my husband.  And of course, with most of these options, the odds of multiples was uncomfortably high.  We were already nervous about having 1 more baby... 2 would have killed us.  And I can't even talk about beyond.

But let me tell you, NOTHING can solidify your desire to have another baby more than being told "you can't."  And suddenly, it was all I could do but to obsess about getting pregnant again.

I'll fast forward through the specifics of the fertility treatments, but let's just say, I am glad that chapter of our lives is over.  Privately, it was the most stressful, disappointing thing I've endured in a very long time.  Constant doctors appointments, hormone checks, blood draws, needles in bellies, and negative pregnancy tests...  not to mention the special blend of crazy I was doling out at home.  I look back on that period, and it's all I can do but to hope that my sense of despair, sadness, and emotional detachment  made THC and GHC never feel like they "weren't enough" to make me happy.

After months of some crazy science on my body - boom - it finally happened.  I peed on what felt like my 100th pregnancy test, held my breath, and waited.  And for the first time, it was positive.  And I just sat there in the bathroom, exhaled, and cried.

I wasn't sure what I was feeling at the time.  Happiness combined with terror.

What if I miscarry?  How were we going to handle 2 kids when we could barely handle the 1 that we had?  What if my post-partum depression comes back?  Do we need a bigger house?  Will GHC feel less loved?  What if this kid is as colicky as GHC?  What if he has acid reflux, too?

The noose around my neck was starting to feel tighter...

Luckily, we didn't have a whole lot of time to worry about these issues.  I am a strong, but perhaps dumb, believer that there is no better therapy than to simply stay busy.  But it worked for us (at least as far as I know).  With an extremely needy 2-year old at home and a crazy work and travel schedule, the only thing we could do was enter "survival mode."  And just as soon as work eased up, I was being told by my doctors that I was 4 cm dilated and ready to have a baby.

And not just any baby.  This baby - THC4.  And the complete validation that I have never been more right about wanting something so badly.

More to come on the highly embarrassing birth story and our first week at home.  I just wanted to share for now...