mama monday: Week 31

Going through old post drafts, I came across this one from Week 17.  PROOF THAT I MEANT TO BLOG THROUGHOUT SECOND TRIMESTER.  Despite being a little outdated, the list entitled Stuff I Didn't Know still stands as a reminder of how weird all these pregnancy symptoms can be.  

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Here we are at Week 17 already!

Baby Gaz is approximately the size of a pear, I look more like I'm carrying a watermelon, and feel like I'm carrying a wine barrel.  I have a few friends who are also due in November and, although their due dates are a few weeks later than ours, I feel like Anoine de Saint-Exupéry's elephant in a boa next to them.

Now that I'm comfortably settling into second trimester and able to put into words some of what pregnancy has been, I figured I'd treat you all to a segment I'd like to call Stuff I Didn't Know.

1. Feeling Excited
   In fact, for most of the first trimester, I didn't.  Other than the day we found out we were pregnant (a story I realize now might make for an interesting blog post - stay tuned), and a few weeks after that, when I would laugh uncontrollably to myself like a crazy person because of the wonderful ridiculousness of it all.  I was pregnant.  Me.  With a human inside me.  A baby that will look partially like me and partially like Andrew.  And we'll have to look after it.  Shouldn't we be screened or something?
   
   Other than the laughing fits I felt terribly underwhelmed when anyone squealed at me, inches from my face, "AREN'T YOU SOOOOOO EXCITED?!"  Other than wanting to point out that they had taken all the excitement and there was none left for me, nay, for anyone else for that matter, I was surprised by internal response: "No." and, secondly, by the one I actually said out loud: "Of course."  Because both answers were true, but the latter didn't seem true - yet.
   
   It's kind of like asking someone who is battling influenza, amnesia, PMS, sleep deprivation, loss of bladder control, and abdominal swelling whether or not they are excited about attending the Oscars over half a year from now?  Well, yes, they suppose they are excited now that you mention it but mostly they're mapping out the nearest garbage pails in case they're struck with the urge to vomit, the nearest soft surface in case they pass out, and the nearest bathroom or thick hedge because they'll have to pee as soon as you'll let them stop talking about the Oscars.  There isn't a lot of energy left to be excited with.
   
   
2. Mood Swings
   You may be familiar with my occasional day trips to Crazy Town but they spaced themselves out at least a month apart and were, more or less, understandable.  As understandable as Crazy can be.   Pregnancy leaves allllll those episodes in its dust.  Not only are pregnancy mood alterations unpredictable but they bypass premenstrual ones in both height and depth.
   
   Conveniently, I live with a man who is as patient as he is wise which means that he knows when to attempt to "fix" the situation and when to let things run their course.  And follows up any particularly hard day, headache, or cry by drawing me a bath and giving me a massage.  I know.  I win.
   
3. Feeling Tired
   I can nap like a champion, and frequently do, but pregnancy has given me an entirely new outlook on fatigue and sleep.  Many parent vetrans will see us and advise, "Sleep now while you can!  You have no idea how tired you'll be once the baby arrives."  I haven't entirely completed my research on the subject but I'd be willing to bet that sleep is not one of those quantifiable substances that you can stock up on and use later, like toilet paper.  Not only that, but no one informed me that the sleeplessness begins LONG BEFORE BABY SHOWS UP IN PERSON.
   
   Andrew has developed a love-hate relationship with the body pillow I now sleep with (love, only because it aids me in sleeping...so it's mostly hate).  The pillow, in combination with my bulbous shape, increasing weight, inability to sleep on my front, inability to sleep on my back, multiple trips to the washroom to pee, and inexplicable wakefulness between the hours of 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. make it quite difficult to get a good night's sleep at present.  Which is why I'd like to take those parent vetrans by the shoulders, shake vigorously, and inform them that THEY AREN'T HELPING.

wifercize wednesday: hormones and hand sanders

Andrew has been such a dear in keeping up with his hormone-flooded wife.  The downsides have included fits of frustration (generally nesting related or sleep deprivation related) followed by a gush of tears.

A few months ago I decided to tidy the first floor of our house.  AND I HAD TO DO IT RIGHT.  NOW. Coming across a few pairs of Andrew's shoes in the hallway, I asked him if he would like me to put them in the front closet or upstairs in the bedroom.  He told me to hold on one moment, as he was busy paying a bill online.

I waited a moment.  I waited a moment more.  Still answerless, I abandoned the shoes and stormed off to complete some other equally-as-pressing task until Andrew tracked me down and asked me if I was OK (the banging of objects tipped him off).

"Yes.  I'm fine."  (I wasn't.)
"Reeally?  You don't seem fine.  Are you mad?"
"No.  I'm not."  (I was.)
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know."  (I didn't.)

About 10 minutes after this futile discussion Andrew was back on the couch and I furtively joined him.  I sat as close as I could manage with my bulky abdomen, put my head on his shoulder, and started crying.

"Are you crying?  What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry."  (I was.)
"That's OK.  For what?"
"I don't know."  (I still didn't.)

Andrew has been wonderful at decoding (or, rather, lovingly disregarding) many of my extreme ups and downs and for this I am grateful.  The truth is that, most of the time, I truly don't know why I'm upset.  In the past week alone, the answers to "Are you crying?  What's wrong?" have included "I'm tired.  And you're nice." to "This movie is too sad."  Both legitimate answers.  To me.  At the time.

Another behavioural development has been a slightly unhinged desire to refinish furniture, as mentioned on Monday.  The first of which was a stool.

I spotted the stool on the side of the road the day Andrew and I were parking near St. Joe's hospital for an ultrasound appointment.  It was a painted (chipping), white (yellowing), wooden stool with a slab of the seat broken off.  I thought it was marvelous.

After my dad reattached the broken seat with carpenter's glue, it looked a little something like this:

After a generous sanding with my handy Black & Decker GelMax Mouse Sander and Polisher with Touch Zone Technology, it looked like this:

And after two coats of black CIL semi-gloss latex interior paint (primer included!) it looked exactly the way I wanted it to:

You might remember that I've been working on this little plot of the house ever since I designed my own wire hooks to display decorative French cheese plates on the wall:

Since it's completion, I am happy to report that it is the first DIY project that Oberon approves of.  In fact, he approves of it so much he almost exclusively owns property rights to it.

"How handy," he told me when I placed the finished stool in the kitchen.  "You've finally given me the throne I so rightfully deserve.  From here I shall survey my kingdom and all that transpires throughout."

mama monday: week 30

One would assume that after having whined and complained openly and publicly while we waited to become pregnant that the very least I could do was to blog as frequently about the process of pregnancy once acquired.

But second trimester has come and gone and, for reasons unknown even to me, I didn't feel the urge to post.  Not.  One.  Post.

I guess I was having fun just...being pregnant.

No other excuse.  But now the air is crisp and the leaves are turning and I feel, as I do ever September, the urge to hand in assignments in a timely matter.  School's back in session.

Baby Gaz is growing strong and wiggling near constantly.  Andrew and I read somewhere that babies at this stage sleep 95% of the time.  WHERE ARE THESE BABIES WHO SLEEP 95% OF THE TIME?  Our baby missed the memo.

Here he is, our little butternut squash!

In other news, we attended and just finished 12 weeks of birth classes which were absolutely incredible. We can not recommend the Bradley Method (also known as the "Husband-Coached Childbirth" method) strongly enough to any pregnant couples who are looking to take classes.  At first, we thought 12 classes (two hours each) seemed excessive but now that we've completed them we realize it was just barely enough time to cover all the topics necessary for childbirth education: labour coaching, nutrition, and exercise to name a few.  We genuinely feel well prepared for Baby Gaz's birthday in November!

September also marks a slew of baby showers which arrive just in time since we have been holding off on purchasing too many items ourselves to prevent the Multitudinous Equipment Stockpile Syndrome (MESS) in Baby Gaz's already cozy (read: small) nursery.  Over the next few weeks I'll be posting all about Nursery Makeover 2011: second trimester also came with record-breaking creativity and energy that had me refinishing roadside finds and making multiple trips to Value Village in search of SOMETHING I HAVE IN MY MIND, OK?  STOP ASKING SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Happy September and thanks for visiting after so many months of incommunicado!

mama monday: heartbeat, part 2

The milestones of Week 15:

and Week 16 (four whole months!)

have come and gone without much drama - in fact, almost all the drama of pregnancy so far compacted itself nicely into the first three months.  PRAISE BE.  My heart goes out to all the mamas who feel the effects of nausea throughout their entire pregnancies.  There are elevated positions of honour reserved for you in heaven.  Rob Bell told me.

Yesterday I attended the bridal shower of a long-time friend of Andrew's, in where else? Woodbridge.  Italian bridal showers are not to be messed with.  Much like any other Italian gathering, these showers are large, in charge, are attended by relatives known and partially unknown, must include alcohol, a meal of several courses, and the only acceptable (or audible) means of communication is a fraction below a yell.  This shower also had a loop of 80s music, games, and prizes.  One of which my mother-in-law won.  And bequeathed to me.

In fact, my mother-in-law is one of the most gracious, loving, kind, and giving person I know.  While on our way back to my house she casually gestured to a small bag of gear by my feet.

"Oh, by the way, Sarah, I borrowed a fetal doppler from work and we can listen to the baby's heartbeat."

Like it's the most normal thing in the world to have comandeered an $800 piece of obstetrical equipment from an OB-GYN office to use at one's leisure.  She's going to make a great grandmother.

When we arrived home, Andrew watched in anticipation while his mother, an OB-GYN assistant veteran of 25 years, searched my abdomen with what looked like a mini karaoke machine while I lay on the couch.

At first, all we heart was my slower, steady heartbeat.  Whum, whum, whum, whum.  After a few seconds, and a switch in microphone position, we tuned in to Baby Gaz's quickened whammy-whammy-whammy-whammy and all three of us smiled.  For Andrew, it was the first time he had heard Baby Gaz live.

I like that it was in our living room.

mama monday: weeks 9, 10, 11 and 12

First, let's answer some fan mail.

Yes.

My intention, once I announced our pregnancy to the world, was to update Mama Mondays weekly with information about how far along I was, etc.  In fact, the intention behind Mama Monday itself was to post about pregnancy and motherhood.

But first trimester had other plans.

Each day of my first trimester played out the same as the one before:

Wake up after 10+ hours of sleep, hungry.
Pee.

Breakfast.

Pee.
Snack.

Pee.

Lunch.
Pee.
Nap.
Pee.

Dinner.

Pee.

Relax in the evening with Andrew.

Pee twice or three times more.

While I snack.

Pee.
Bed by 10:00 p.m.

So here's a rundown of recent events.

Week 9

According to website research, Baby Gaz is now about 1 inch which here is represented by this partially eaten pickle.  Mmm, pickle.

In fact, the number one thing I have been craving over the past few weeks has been sour things.  Grapefruit, pickles, vinegar, tziziki sauce.  Oh, and salty things but that's not much of a break from tradition.  Andrew claims that he'll get me a salt lick for Christmas one year.

Baby Gaz and I are both doing fine.  In fact, I meant to include a video Andrew made for our small group when we announced the pregnancy - in it, Baby Gaz makes its first film debut and you can hear the heartbeat: 

Week 10

Baby Gaz is now the size of this delicious Reece Peanut Butter © chocolate egg my mom bought us for Easter which, although I have sworn off caffeinated drinks for the first trimester, I have no qualms eating in handfuls.  Baby Gaz is also already begun making demands:

I don't like meat.
I don't like greasy foods.
I don't like complicated sauces or dressings.
I don't like when mommy smells meat, greasy foods, complicated sauces or dressings.
I don't like when mommy looks at billboards of meat, greasy foods, complicated sauces or dressings.
I don't like it when mommy brushes her teeth.
I don't like it when mommy stays awake for too long.
I don't like it when mommy doesn't eat every few hours.

I want someone to hang out with from 3:00 a.m. until at least 4:00 a.m. every morning.

This uterus is too small.
This bladder is crowding me.
This stomach needs to take up less space.

Week 11

As I rummage around the house for various items that represent the growth of Baby Gaz I recognize that I will have to employ creative tactics.  Like opening an entire 900 mL bag of farfalle to use one piece for this shot at Week 11.

My primary pregnancy complaint (other than nausea which, praise Him, has begun to abate) has been regarding Baby Brain.  Simply put, I am suffering from mild amnesia as it pertains to vocabulary, direction, names, dates, multitasking of any sort, and purpose of entering a room.  My once proud University of Toronto degree still hangs proudly in our living room declaring that I achieved a degree in English, although I now frequently have conversations with Andrew about "that thingy" and how "what's her face" was so "you know" with "whatever" and...hmm?  Nevermind.  I forgot.


Week 12


This week, May 2nd, marks Week 12 on Mama Monday which also heralds SECOND TRIMESTER!  Actually, second trimester starts around Week 14 or something, blah, blah, blah.  I'm interested in speeding up this first trimester as much as possible.  And all the gagging with it.

I have...

...I forgot what I was going to type there since I raised my head for a moment to watch part of a Community episode.  Great show, by the way.

OH.  I have made my peace with all food items that once breathed.  This little velociraptor is back!

It's difficult to tell from the picture, but Baby Gaz is now the size of a two inch dried mango.  For the past two and a half months we've been compiling a list of things to register for.   Now I can't imagine owning a stroller that didn't have a chariot-optional setting to pull Baby Gaz on a sandy beach.  HOW WILL BABY GAZ ENJOY THE BEACH WITHOUT A CHARIOT-OPTIONAL SETTING?

mama monday: +

That's right, my patient little pumpkins: all the missed posts and writer's block can finally be explained.

I happen to be quite knocked up.

Oh yes, there is much more to the story.  Too much for one post so I'll have to keep you coming back for more over the next few weeks.

I'd have thought announcing our pregnancy to the world would feel more glamourous but it's hard to feel glamourous when meat makes me nauseous (MEAT, of all things...Andrew thinks that it's hilarious that his "little velociraptor" of a wife is a temporary vegetarian), I'm on a strict diet of beige - and occasionally green - food items, I'm experiencing bouts of insomnia for the first time in my life, and I now take sudden and unexpected trips to crazy town.  Oh, and my bladder is the size of a ping-pong ball.

Speaking of size, however, Baby Gaz (who will be debuting on or around November 12th of this year) is now the size of a salted cashew:

Mmm.  Salted cashew.

I most definitely ate the stand-in for Baby Gaz after this photo.

At this point, my favourite thing to announce is that no gag reflex, no sleepless night, no hormonal surge,  and no inconvenient pee schedule could possibly dampen my excitement and joy.  We've been waiting for Baby Gaz for a year and a half, and we don't mind waiting a few months more.

mama monday: kangaroo care

Last night we went to visit our friends, the Boergers, which included some serious snuggle time with their adorable 3 month old son, Noah.

Since the weather here in The Great White North has been akin to this:

And I haven't felt truly warm since mid-October, it was a treat to sit down on a couch with a sleeping newborn and steal some of his toasty-warmness.

It reminded me of an New York Times article Andrew sent me a few weeks back on something called "Kangaroo Care".  Kangaroo Care started as a solution to overcrowded and under-budgeted hospitals in Columbia.  Without the money to provide for enough incubators, doctors began bundling newborns, including premies, to their mothers' - skin on skin.  The drop in infancy mortality was so significant that medical communities in more "developed" nations began to take note.

"The babies stay warm, their own temperature regulated by the sympathetic biological responses that occur when mother and infant are in close physical contact. The mother’s breasts, in fact, heat up or cool down depending on what the baby needs. [...] Feeling the mother’s breathing and heartbeat helps the babies to stabilize their own heart and respiratory rates. They sleep more. They can breastfeed at will, and the constant contact encourages the mother to produce more milk."

Although most of our medical approach to pregnancy and childbirth, including incubation, is for the safety and well-being of mother and child I wonder if we miss the forest for the trees.  Having just spent the last nine months (or eight, or seven...or, in some cases, five) gestating in their mom's womb, which is nine months longer than they've spent in any other environment, wouldn't being close to her be the most natural transition?

It makes me think of how fearfully and wonderfully made we are and how much creativity goes into the birth of a new person.  And how those people grow up and become scientists, doctors, researchers and New York Times bloggers who can tell us incredible facts about childbirth.

mama monday: hope

One of the hardest commodities to hold on to while trying to conceive is hope.  I guess the same is true of any situation where the outcome is just out of reach - whether hoping to be hired, or hoping to be accepted, or hoping for healing, or hoping to find someone to spend the rest of your life with.

I once felt hope was cyclical.  It germinated, sprouted, bloomed, and then seemed to curl up and die before it was reborn again.  Over the past year, I've realized that it isn't cyclical at all.  The hope I have today of becoming pregnant is not the hope I had last year, or even last month.  It's stronger, deeper, and truer.  The growth/dormant stages I felt were actually spurts of progress and less obvious progress.  But it was always progress.

On a bad day, I still need my friends around me and I'll sometimes send out an email to ask for prayer (community is so helpful in times of extended hope-a-thons).  On a good day, I feel like my friend Naomi did when she so elegantly quoted these words in response to a piece of music called "Radio Protector" by 65daysofstatic.

I've included it here and recommend listening to it while you read.  The video is an unofficial one, but nonetheless enchanting:



While listening to the crescendo of the song, Naomi mused:

It feels like something's alive inside
Like I have motivation to fix whatever I want to
I have all the hope in the world

...I'm learning what it is to be content
That not everybody needs to know everything
There is beauty in the mystery
There is beauty in things not unveiled

It's not easy to hope.  It takes time and energy and a lot of guts.  But as my wise husband says, "It takes the same effort to worry as it does to have faith."  Worry tears and corrupts and demoralizes and although hope might sometimes feel like an uphill battle, its only goal is to mend and clarify and hearten.  As long as time and energy and guts are required I'd rather be hoping.

And when I'm tempted to give up, I like to remember the words of C.S. Lewis: "There seems no plan because it is all plan".

---

 

Yahweh, Yahweh

Always pain before a child is born

Yahweh, Yahweh

Still I'm waiting for the dawn

- U2 (Yaweh)

“There is nothing that wastes the body like worry,
and one who has any faith in God should be ashamed
to worry about anything whatsoever.”
- Mahatma Ghandi

mama monday: healthy competition?

Too many of the blogs written by women trying to conceive only focus on the negative.  Not being pregnant YET.  Not having a family YET.  Not being a mom YET.  The competition with other women who are pregnant can be particularly vicious, which is something that has never made sense to me. 

I'd assume that if one is so keen on babies that one would celebrate babies wherever they are, in any circumstance that they are. 

Pregnancy isn't the only stage on which girls have showdowns.  It's found everywhere from home ownership to home decor to marriage to weddings to relationships to fashion to careers to education and alllllll the way back to the playground.  Girls can be mean.  And usually to each other.

I'd like to take this Mama Monday to celebrate the girls who aren't mean.  The ones that let other girls into their heart, no matter the cost, and keep them there.  The girls who listen as well as speak.  The girls who give the hard advice as much as the easy advice.  And here's to hoping I end up more and more like one of those girls.

Melissa and her hubby, Jon, gave birth to the littlest friend in our group on October 10, 2010 (10/10/10) at 10:15 p.m.  His name is Noah Contstance Börger and although we've been saying hi to him womb-side for 9 months, it's amazing to meet him in person.  He's very, very fortunate to have a mom who doesn't have a mean bone in her body. 

Mama's hello.
Papa's hello.

mama monday: serenity...now

If I were granted one superhero ability it would be to fly, although living outside of time would be tempting.  Especially when I'm in the process of waiting for something.  Which is all the time.

Last week my post about chilling out prompted a response from my brother.  Here's a bit of it:

here is one quote of a friend that has demolished me:

"if I had known where I would be today, I would have been smiling all along the way"

this was written a few days before his wedding.

as I'm a fan of brain-experiments with time/space travel - I love this. think about it; look at yourself a year ago worrying about whatever that was. now look at you life now. now look at you in the future, laughing your ass off at your circumstances you worry about today. (now look back at your man - sadly, he isn't me. this post is now diamonds!)

Not only did he score extra points by referencing Old Spice, but he also ended the comment with Bobby McFerrin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy" (seriously, did anyone else know that Robin Williams is in that music video?).

The other day God said, "When you become pregnant, everything changes.  Your body changes, your priorities change, your spare time changes, and the attention of others changes - it will be on you.  For now, enjoy doing all the things that you want with your body, priorities, and spare time, and use them to pour attention out on others.  Because you can."

I love this quote:

"Once you bring life into this world, you must protect it. We must protect it by changing the world."  (Elie Weisel)

Instead of waiting for something to happen we can prepare for it to happen.  The song isn't just "Don't Worry" (we can't define ourselves by a negative), it's "Don't Worry, BE HAPPY."  If a time machine was serendipitously dropped into my life today, I'd (hopefully) have the sense to say, "No thanks.  I'm living in the present.  And there is plenty enough to do in the present to keep me occupied and happy."

Plus, it is said of the only one who is omiscient:

God is striding ahead of you. He's right there with you. He won't let you down; he won't leave you. Don't be intimidated. Don't worry.  (Deuteronomy 31:8, The Message)

---

We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we're frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that, we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We'll certainly be happy when they're out of that stage.

We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire.

The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?

Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway.

One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred D. Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, or a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time with...and remember that time waits for no one.

So, stop waiting until you finish school, 

until you go back to school, 

until you lose ten pounds, 

until you gain ten pounds, 

until you have kids, 

until your kids leave the house, 

until you start work, 

until you retire, 

until you get married, 

until you get divorced, 

until Friday night, 

until Sunday morning, 

until you get a new car or home, 

until your car or home is paid off, 

until spring, 

until summer, 

until fall, 

until winter, 

until you're off welfare, 

until the first or fifteenth, 

until your song comes on, 

until you've had a drink, 

until you've sobered up, 

until you die, 

until you're born again 

to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy.

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

- Crystal Boyd

mama monday: the tension

Last week I spent 30 minutes in the "family planning" aisle of Shoppers staring at ovulation predicting options.  Do I want my luteinizing hormone to be represented by a "+" symbol?  A double blue line?  A straight forward "yes"?  A digital smiley face?

A DIGITAL SMILEY FACE.

I began to wonder how the human race ever multiplied without the use of digital luteinizing hormone predictor kits.  

And there I saw it, the symbol of the past year, all it's struggles, and all it's tension: I feel like my life is metaphorically sitting on the shelf sandwiched between KamaSutra's Weekend Travel Kits and Canesten.

"Life ought to be a struggle of desire toward
adventures whose nobility will fertilize the soul."

- Rebecca West (1892-1983)

welcome to mama mondays...

Blogging is a fickle thing.  It's not quite a journal and it's not quite a Twitter feed.  It's both personal and public.  I worry that it's being read and then I worry that it's not being read.  I like my privacy and I like my honesty.

I started this blog in 2005 (happy 5th year anniversary, me!) to update people about my year spent teaching English in Korea.  From there, it chronicled my travels in the UK, moving house six times, becoming a girlfriend, becoming a wife, and becoming a pastor.  It has served me well.

What better way to keep the blog honest and current than dive into the topic of parenting?  Anticlimactically, this August marks a year of "trying" (translation: a fabulous year of sex-having!) and this isn't the highly anticipated here's a picture of our positive pee test! post.  Nope, not yet.

Still, there are lots of thoughts on parenting that I've been mulling over, and I keep accumulating more, so I'd like to post some of them here.  To begin, some on pre-conception:

• Prenatal pills have made my hair grow an inch a month. 
• There are acronyms for everything to do with fertility on the internet.  "TTC", for example, once meant only public transportation in the city of Toronto.  Evidentally also means "trying to conceive" by lots of cybermoms.
• Said cybermoms, or cybermoms-to-be, are an opinionated bunch.  You can find advice online that contradicts every other piece of advice you find online.
• When I was single and naïve, I told a friend who was trying to conceive: "It's easy.  Just have sex, like, ALL THE TIME."  Graciously, she shook her head and said nothing.  As many of you are doing now.

Welcome to the journey and feel free to post your anecdotes (really...I love stories).  We'd love to hear from those of you who are thinking of trying, those of you trying, those of you who have tried, and those of you who are now parents either by birth, adoption, or fostering.

Cybermoms welcome!