location, location, location

So, as it turns out, my HCG levels that I had to have repeated yesterday actually increased. And in the back of my mind, I was fantasizing that there was a vanishing twin and perhaps maybe I had a viable pregnancy after all.

Today while I was at a meeting, I was called - repeatedly - by my doctor's office. Because I'd turned the volume down, I didn't even hear my phone ringing and was surprised to see that I had five new messages from the same number. All of the messages were tagged as urgent, with the request that I call the office as soon as possible. When I called back, they told me they wanted to see me immediately, but first, I needed to stop by the lab again.

My hopes soared while I imagined that all would be well. Surely, today's lab would just confirm that my numbers were on the rise again and then, I'd have an ultrasound and oh, what a wonderful and surprisingly fun blog post it will be to show the picture of one healthy baby!

When I arrived at the office, for the first time during this whole ordeal, I was seen by my OB that delivered Henry. His eyes were so kind when he came in to talk to me. He smiled as he said, "I've always had a suspicion that you weren't done. I've always suspected that you wanted to have another baby!" But then he dropped his voice and said, "But you understand that this pregnancy isn't viable. Right?"

Because I'd given myself an opportunity to dream that MAYBE they'd made a mistake, my hopes were instantly dashed. My eyes teared up as I nodded my head and said, "Yes. I know. But I've tried to block it out. I was really hoping you were wrong."

He did an ultrasound and then pulled up my lab results on the computer, while pointing out that because my HCG levels have 'plateaued' he is extremely concerned that this pregnancy is ectopic. He told me that at my stage, I am a very good candidate for methotrexate which is a drug that is frequently used to treat cancer. It stops cells from growing, which would effectively terminate the ectopic pregnancy, hopefully before the pregnancy advanced to the point that my fallopian tube would rupture.

As he stood up to fetch my most recent lab results, I asked how ectopic pregnancies "resolved" themselves in nature? I mean, in my case - where my HCG levels were so low - wouldn't this just absorb in to my body, or be shed during the next cycle? If there was some way to let "Mother Nature" take her course, I'd much prefer that route than anything invasive or highly medicated.

He told me that he wasn't willing to take the chance that this would just resolve because ectopic pregnancies could be fatal. He added that long ago, before ultrasounds existed to identify where the embryo had implanted, or methotrexate and surgical procedures existed to "remove" ectopic pregnancies, women would die.

We talked for a few more minutes about statistics and the chemical properties of methotrexate and what type of side effects I might experience. And then he closed the door behind him so I could sit and think about things while he called in the orders.

Mostly, I thought about how it would be less heart wrenching for me to die, than to kill my unborn. As such, it is very difficult for me to get my head around the notion of intentionally taking a drug that would kill off any fetal cells, hence triggering an abortion. Even though I really have no option in the matter because if this pregnancy is left untreated, I could die. Apparently, there's no way to extract a fallopian tube and let the baby continue to grow, outside of my body. Although it might not seem it, what with billions of people running all over the planet, fertility can be helluva complicated.

(At least it has been for me.)

An hour later, I very sadly received my two doses of neon yellow methotrexate via intramuscular injections in my hips. And now, I wait. Until something happens that the doctors have told me will most likely happen over the next few days and quite possibly might hurt a lot. I wait until Monday when I am back in the lab having more blood work completed. And again next Thursday for yet more blood work. And then two weeks from Thursday. Or maybe sooner, depending upon how quickly my HCG levels drop.

As I told my children tonight during dinner, there is a baby. But unfortunately, as it happens in approximately 2% of all pregnancies, our baby is in the wrong location. And sadly, jumping on one leg - as Elizabeth and Carolyn have both suggested - isn't enough to fix the situation.

(Cue even more tears. Goodness gracious, is there no end?)

In happier news, check out my awesome little boy...



I think he might have found his calling as "The Whale Whisperer."

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should

First, and most importantly, I really want to thank all of the wonderful people who have left me comments and sent me e-mails over the past few days offering compassion, support and encouragement. Your words have lifted my spirits in ways that I cannot articulate. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Second, one minute I'm fine and at peace with what has happened. The next minute - or perhaps several minutes later - I'm not. Since I've been preparing myself and mourning that this pregnancy was not going to continue for the past several days, it didn't come as a terrible surprise when my doctor called yesterday with my lab results. Still, my emotions are all over the map. I can think and talk about this loss very logically and while I fully recognize that many of my thoughts have been totally irrational, that doesn't stop me from falling in to a pit of grief and sorrow every two hours. (Give or take 45 minutes.)

Third, this has been an emotionally difficult month. We've been faced with some huge decisions about moving cross-country, selling our house, buying a new house, enrolling our children in school, starting a new job, getting acclimated in a new environment, resigning from my position, staying in my position, welcoming a new baby and now, losing a baby. While in some ways this miscarriage seems like a cruel joke, I truly believe that I can see God's Fingerprints even on this sad situation. On Sunday afternoon, I was caught in a sunbeam outside. It was such a beautiful moment. As I stood with my eyes closed, asking for inner peace and guidance, I suddenly felt my body grow cold and the sky grow dark as a cloud passed before the sun. I opened my eyes and could see that the cloud was small and soon it blew past and I was warm again. Isn't that the way it is with life? Sometimes the clouds are bigger than others and sometimes, rain will fall. But eventually, the sun will come out again and when it does, it warm us from the inside out.

Fourth, while this might be TMI for some, I've found it very helpful to read other women's experiences as I've been going through this. So for me, it all started last Monday afternoon. At first I noticed very light spotting, and almost immediately, I started to have pains in my lower back and slight cramping. By Monday night, the cramping had stopped but the spotting continued through Tuesday. While I was fearing a miscarriage, I was also wondering if perhaps I was expecting multiples again since the experience was almost identical to my seventh week of pregnancy with the triplets. But by Wednesday morning, unlike my triplet pregnancy, there was bright red bleeding which continued until Sunday. My HCG levels on Wednesday were 429. Two days later they had dropped to 400. Because the levels are so low, the doctor doesn't believe an ultrasound is necessary but might be completed when I go in for my third round of blood work, tomorrow - just so we can determine the next course of action.

Fifth, Last but not least, I would like to take a moment to acknowlegdge my mother's "Senior Moment" and the way it made me laugh harder than I've laughed in days. When you are calling your daughter to offer your condolenscences on her miscarriage and then at the end of the conversation add that Land's End has an amazing selection of maternity clothes and then pause for a moment before saying, "Oh Wait! Oh No! Did I just say that? I'm so sorry! Umm. How are the kids? Did you try that recipe I sent you?!" please understand that the gasping you hear on the other end very well might be laughter, not sobbing. Sometimes, nothing cracks the ice like a totally inappropriate comment. And when that happens, it's always helpful to have your sense of humor fully intact.

I'm convinced of it ... laughter really does cure almost all of life's ills.

the lamb

It was just over seven years ago, that I threw a baby shower for one of my good friends. She was expecting her first child and I was in the midst of my 1,000,000 IUI.

I'd hosted and participated in so many baby showers, by that point, that I'd almost become numb to the pain of watching an expectant mother rubbing her bulging belly without feeling the need to wail. On the outside I was happy. But on the inside I was devastated because I felt so barren and empty. As I've written before, years and years went by where I dreamed of and prayed for a baby and it never happened. Still, my inability to have a child certainly didn't seem to preclude the people around me from popping beautiful newborns out like candy.

While I was out shopping for my friend's baby shower, I happened to see a soft, cuddly lamb. At first, I thought it would make a wonderful present for the new baby. But when I picked it up, I felt a strong attachment to this stuffed animal. I wrapped it's soft paws around my neck and held it close, truly imagining what it would feel like to hold a child of my very own.

Ultimately, I decided to keep the lamb. Because one day, I was certain, it would make a wonderful present for my little one.

These days, the lamb is very rarely seen. It has migrated to the bottom of the toy basket and is buried beneath RC cars, robots and assorted dolls. Still, whenever it surfaces, it always warms me to think of how blessed I am to be a mother. Although several years have lapsed since I've had children, I can remember - so vividly - that aching feeling of what it was like to be without.

This morning, while I was still in bed talking to Charlie about our plans for the day, Elizabeth sleepily wandered in to our room. Her hair was sticking up all over her head and she was sucking her thumb, while gripping her beloved bunny. As she often does, she came over to my side of the bed and put her head down on the pillow next to me.

After a few minutes she plucked her thumb out of her mouth and asked, "Mom! Is today Mother's Day?" When I answered that it was, she said, "OK. Hold bunny! I'll be right back!"

She tossed bunny on my pillow and scurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later clutching the lamb that I had bought several years ago. I'm not really sure why she settled on the lamb - when there are no less than 100 stuffed animals to chose from - but when she presented it to me and cheerfully declared, "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!" I was surprised.

I sat up and hugged the lamb the way I used to, with it's soft paws draped over my shoulders. After a long moment, I put the lamb down and placing my hand on her cheek I said, "This is such a wonderfully thoughtful present for you to give me." Scooping her up on to my lap I added, "Thank you so much for coming in to my life and giving me the chance to be a mom."

She placed her small hand on my cheek and said, "Well, thank you Mom, for giving me life!" Then she threw her little arms around my neck and squeezed tightly as she whispered, "I love you!"

And thus began the start of my beautiful Mother's Day.

mind games

My second round of blood was drawn yesterday. I won't know anything more until Monday when my doctor returns. I'm not holding any hope that this pregnancy is secure, unless it's possible that a fish could also survive by clinging on to the side of a bowl as all the water is drained out.

Since this past October, I've been battling one upper respiratory infection after another. This past March, around the same time I was diagnosed with a sinus infection, I was absolutely desperate to be well. One day when I was at the pharmacy picking up my prescription and replenishing my monthly supply of sinus rinse packets and cough drops, I spotted the herbal remedies and supplements.

After spending a solid 30 minutes reviewing the different bottles and what they claimed to cure or prevent (without validation of the FDA, but so?), I selected bottles of Vitamin B12, Echinacea and Goldenseal. And then I grabbed another crate of Kleenex and with fingers crossed that I'd finally be on the mend, I headed home and promptly began my regiment of treatment.

By the end of March, I was finally feeling better. Much like the small pills made with the liver of a deadly puff fish (as prescribed to me several years ago by a costly homeopathic doctor) cured me of a minor ailment I was suffering, I was moderately convinced that these supplements were doing something to help boost my immune system and ward off rogue viruses.

Without so much as a second thought, for the past six weeks, I've continued to take my supplements in conjunction with the multivitamin that I've taken every night for as long as I can remember. This past Tuesday - when I genuinely began to fear that I was experiencing a miscarriage - I stopped taking every pill except my multivitamin. For no reason other than the simple effort to open the bottles and take the pills to my mouth constituted too much effort.

Last night, as I was getting ready for bed - I picked up the bottle of Echinacea & Goldenseal and looked at the label. And although it is only in about the equivalent of a font size 8, the words jumped out at me, "WARNING: DO NOT TAKE WHEN PREGNANT."

Wha...?

WHY?

I ran to my computer, fired it up, and typed in to the search engine, "echinacea, goldenseal, pregnancy complications." And while my legs wobbled and my lip trembled, I read page after page of warnings and recommendations to avoid these supplements, particularly goldenseal during pregnancy.

In one study that was conducted on the safety of echinacea during pregnancy, there were 13 spontaneous abortions in the echinacea group compared to 7 in the control group. Or, approximately twice as many. Statistically, I don't know how sound this data is but right now, it's enough to make me feel responsible.

Charlie came out to see why I was furiously cursing at the computer - and myself - and he tried to console me. But at this point, I'm not consolable. Because the fact remains that I should have LOOKED at the label. I should have KNOWN what I was putting in to my body. I should have been keenly aware that RISKS exist. The labels are there for a reason and there is absolutely NO good reason why I didn't review them. Except negligence and ignorance.

I'm convinced this IS my fault and if not for my stupidity, I'd be happily pregnant with a baby that is due to be born on Christmas Day. A baby that my children and husband want just as much as me. It's a lot more emotionally crippling to believe that I had a hand in these complications, than to believe that this pregnancy was simply not meant to be.

This morning, I woke up and feeling groggy, rolled back over to go to sleep for a few more minutes. As I dozed, I had a vivid dream. Charlie and I were standing in the kitchen talking and folding laundry. The triplets were in the backyard playing, Henry was in the small bathroom - just off the kitchen - splashing in a tub that was filled with no more than six inches of water. As we spoke, we could hear him happily playing with his plastic dinosaurs. After a few minutes had lapsed, Charlie ducked around the corner to check on him and he started to scream, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! HENRY! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY INSERT-BAD-WORD-HERE GOD!"

I forced myself awake and I immediately knew that it was just a nightmare that my little boy had drowned. I knew that he was sleeping peacefully in the bottom bunk with his big brother. But those feelings I have of extreme fragility and vulnerability are right there on the surface, invading my mind when I sleep.

As I look over my calendar of the past week, I can clearly see a "before" and "after" all of this has started. And I am keenly aware, as I look around at my life right now, that I am living in a "before" moment of some sort. Bad things will happen in my life. They happen to everyone.

If the possible loss of a six and a half week pregnancy (potentially caused by me) is having this kind of effect on my psyche, I am paralyzed with dread wondering how I could handle something on a larger scale. God forbid, if something happened to my husband or one of my children.

Right now, I'm caught in that space of living in the moment and treasuring my life, while trying desperately to block out the knowledge that at any time, and without warning, the entire floor of my world could drop out.

whatever will be will be

Let's see. How am I doing?

Well, a lot better than I was yesterday. That's for sure.

When I went to bed Tuesday night, I laid awake for hours, desperately afraid that my pregnancy was ending. When I woke up on Wednesday morning, I was sure of it. Yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment at which time I realized that although I had my due date correct, I thought I was eight weeks pregnant when in reality, I'm only six and a half.

(And once again, I find it ironic that someone who doesn't know how to count very well is in a job where they manage multi-million dollar contracts.)

From everything I told the doctor, he too thinks that I might be experiencing a miscarriage although we probably won't know for sure for at least a few more days. Although I had an ultrasound as early as six weeks with our triplets, they didn't perform one yesterday. Instead, I had blood drawn which will be repeated in 48 hours. And then, depending upon what happens over the next few days, I may or may not have an ultrasound on Monday.

I'm preparing myself for the worst.

With both of my "surprise" pregnancies, Charlie thought I should have waited until at least the first ultrasound - or preferably, the end of my first trimester - to announce the news that we are expecting. And while some might prefer to keep something so personal very private, I was so excited to have shared what is going on. And now that I am experiencing what appears to be such grave complications, it is very comforting to me that people truly understand what we are going through. Since I have told most of my coworkers, when I've had to cancel participation in various meetings at the last minute because of an urgent doctor's appointment and the need to remain at home and rest, they have offered prayers and words of healing that cannot be paralleled.

Because people know, I don't feel like I'm going through this by myself and that is a tremendous comfort. As one might imagine, the range of emotions that I've experienced over the past few days have been extreme. From relief that came from telling my boss that I won't be accepting the transfer; to jubilation that I will have ample time at home with a brand new baby and our other children; to worry that something might be wrong; to absolute dread and fear and panick that something WAS wrong; to a feeling of helplessness ... desperation ... and pleading.

Dear God, Please. No!

Yesterday, Charlie took the children out for a few hours and while they were gone I had the ugliest cry I can ever recall having in my entire life. It was a sob session of sadness and fear and sheer frustration.

While I know that 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage - and while I know that an early miscarriage is a sign that something was wrong and it's better to have a pregnancy end sooner than later - and while I know we are incredibly lucky to have four healthy children - the thought that I might actually be experiencing a miscarriage had me completely and totally crushed.

Because with all of my heart, I really want this baby. And I don't give a hoot if people think I am greedy or irresponsible for having four children and wanting another. Although just a few weeks ago I didn't even know that this new life existed, now I do and the dreams that I've long held for any of my children, have risen to the surface of my mind for this new baby.

I've dreamed about the life that is in me, and the potential of that life to come.

I've dreamed about the color of our new baby's eyes - the color of it's hair - the feel of it's beautiful, soft, baby skin. The sound of it's cries and the sound of it's laughter and glee when I kiss it's neck or whenever it sees it's older siblings. I've dreamed about delivering this baby, nursing this baby, swaddling this baby, and cradling this baby in my arms. I've dreamed about holding it's hand and watching it grow and loving it every single day of my life.

And yet, I'm a scientist. So I understand the science behind conception and if an organism isn't meant to survive, it won't. I know that at this moment, my baby is a very rudimentary human being who may not be entirely suited for life and there isn't a darn thing I can do about it.

What will be will be. The future's not ours to see.

Que Sera, Sera.

I also know that I did nothing to cause this, although I'm sure it doesn't help that I've got 39 year old eggs and have been an absolute stress case for the past few weeks. Thankfully, I know I can't blame myself, so I won't even try. Giving birth to a healthy baby is nothing short of a miracle. There are so many things that can and do go wrong. At least for me, sometimes it takes a reminder like this to remember just how incredibly miraculous life really is.

We had told the children that I would be having a new baby around Christmas time and they have been so gentle, doting on me and bringing me flowers. They are absolutely thrilled that there will be something precious and small in the house and they haven't once asked for a guinea pig or puppy since they've found out.

We haven't told them yet about what is going on and we won't tell them anything, until we know for sure. Or, until they ask again. Right now, all they know is that Mommy is showering them with affection. Last night, as I rotated through holding all four of them tightly in my arms, they sweetly asked, "Mommy, why do you keep hugging us and giving us so many kisses?"

And I said, "Because I can. Because you are here. And because I am so incredibly thankful to have you."

regardless of what happens

There has been a lot of turmoil in our home the past few days.

Do we go? Do we stay?

What exactly are we supposed to do?

And then, yesterday morning, I had an epiphany.

All along, I've maintained that all I've ever wanted is to be home with our children. For the past few years, I've been working, simply as a means to support our family - not as a means to be away from them. Charlie and I have consciously made a number of sacrifices over the years, reducing our schedules to part time, reducing our income significantly, and then reducing it even more so, when Charlie put his career on an indefinite sabbatical, so that one of us could be home, full time, with the children.

In so far as parenting goes, we never have planned anything. We've entirely made it up along the way. Figuring out, as we go, what feels right and what doesn't and then, adjusting the course, accordingly. All along, we have prided ourselves on our ability to raise four children, without any outside help. Because we were more than willing to make the sacrifices that would allow us to be home with our babies.

In the case of this job transfer, I truly felt like we had no other good options. I felt like if I didn't take this job, another job wouldn't come up and mine would soon be gone. And while I was tickled at the thought of being closer to my family, the thought of being in an office all day has never sat very well with me. It is so easy, though, to get caught up in a career. It's so easy to be blinded by the money and the benefits and all things nice. But that's not all there is to life and so often, I think that people get caught chasing security for "tomorrow" that they totally miss out on living for "today."

I was getting caught up in that.

And then, I found out I was expecting a baby. And as I stood in that hotel bathroom on the night of my 39th birthday - staring at a little pregnancy stick - and waiting for the digital read out to appear, I had an overwhelming feeling that the results of this "test" would significantly change my life. Not just in the way of, "Oh, there's another baby on the way!" but "Oh, the entire fate of your family and geographic location and life hinge on these results."

And then it appeared.

Pregnant.

There was silent excitement, disbelief, and that overwhelming feeling like I have been blessed beyond measure. There was also a tingly feeling that I had been saved from something but at the time, I didn't know exactly what. When I showed the test to Charlie, he didn't believe me. He thought that perhaps I had forged the results. As if it was possible I had a cup of urine laden with HCG in the bathroom with me.

The next few days were a blur. Is it real? Is it possible? FIVE children?

Now what do we do?

Moving closer to family would be nice. A bigger house, change of seasons, new environment and career security would be nice, too. But working in an office all day while my pregnancy progresses - and then, leaving a tiny newborn at home for 8+ hours a day is not so nice.

Not so nice at all.

As in, horrible, crappy, what the hell have I done?

Management said that despite my current situation, I was still expected to be in Virginia in July. And no, I would not be granted flexibility in work hours or location. Hearing that, I did what any irrational pregnant woman would do. I lugged out a HUGE career shot gun and I aimed it squarely at my foot and without much hesitation, I pulled the trigger.

Early yesterday morning, I sent a message to my manager that read, "Due to my current situation, I think that the scenario that provides the least physical, emotional and financial stress for me (and my family) is to remain in San Diego. I fully understand that if I retract my decision to accept this transfer, it may be a career limiting move for me. And while I fully recognize that my family issues are not [my company's] concern - they are mine."

Once I sent that e-mail, I felt incredibly relieved. Like I had finally made a decision and it was a good one because there is absolutely no going wrong when you put your family first. Had it not been for this pregnancy, I might not have sat back and really evaluated what kind of impact this transfer would have on the family structure and balance that Charlie and I have worked so hard to achieve. Moreover, this pregnancy made me realize that nothing in life is 100% predictable.

Long term, I do not know what the future holds.

But then again, none of us do.

Yesterday, I met with one of my consultants and sometime around mid afternoon, I started to feel badly. Very badly. I promptly went home and began to experience a variety of symptoms that elevated my concern from moderate to slightly alarmed.

Late in to last night, I was fretting and sweating while searching Google, WikiAnswers and a host of other websites that did not a single thing to alleviate my worries and instead, made me feel weepy and frustrated and completely vulnerable and sad.

All day today, I was on the couch - a self imposed bed rest of sorts. Dreaming the best, and yet fearing the worst, while loving on my children like I've never loved on them before. As of tonight, my mind is still swirling with what might be going on inside my body with our tiny eight week old baby. Since I've had relatively simple pregnancies in the past (at least during the first trimester), I'm at a loss. This could be perfectly normal, or maybe not?

I'm almost afraid to move until I know for sure.

Although I've called my OB (and plan to call again tomorrow morning), my first ultrasound isn't until next week, but based on my calculations, this baby - God Willing - is due to arrive on Christmas Day. I believe that is incredibly fitting.

Right now, through my tears of worry, I'm trying desperately to convince myself that regardless of what happens, this pregnancy is genuinely a gift from heaven.

The very best gift at the absolute very best time.

and God laughs

Here's the post that I hastily published on April 23, and took down 12 hours later at the urging of my beloved husband. Over the past couple of weeks, the people that needed to know, have heard it first hand from me.

So now, here it is for the world.

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

Charlie and I struggled with infertility for years. We went through countless surgeries and procedures to try and conceive. It wasn't until our third round of IVF, in March of 2004, six years ago last month, that we were finally successful just getting two lines on the stick.

When we conceived Henry, it was such a wonderful, incredible, miraculous surprise. For all that we had been through to get pregnant in the first place, I was in complete disbelief that I had conceived this child, naturally, until the moment they handed my newborn to me in the delivery room.

Henry has been such a wonderful blessing to our family, but especially to me. Because he is the baby that just happened. There was no looking at a calendar, scheduling appointments, having prescriptions filled, enduring painful subcutaneous and intramuscular shots and standing by the phone, quivering with anticipation and dread until the call came through.

With Henry, there was none of that. With Henry, there was a fun church service, a glass of wine, and a severely strained back. Nine months later, he arrived on his due date, weighing almost more than his triplet siblings did, COMBINED.

Just before Henry was born, my OB asked if I would like to have a tubal ligation at the same time as my c-section and I said absolutely not. Because it seemed like such a final thing. What if at some later time we decided that we wanted to have more children?

Of course this sounded totally crazy coming from a woman who was going to birth four children in less than three years. But I wanted to keep my tubes as open as my options.

Whether or not we would ever really try for another child was questionable. Because all along, Charlie said NO while I said MAYBE yes?

My husband's argument was that we'd probably need a larger car. And we would feel even more crammed for space in our small house. And why?! Don't we have enough children, now? Could we ever give the same amount of love and attention to a fifth child? Why can't we just enjoy the beautiful children that we have? And really, could I handle another pregnancy and the associated 100 pound weight gain that always seems to occur?

My argument was that biologically, I have a very small window of opportunity remaining and I don't want to go through my life wondering what if? I'm from a large family and although we definitely have our struggles from time to time, I adore them and I've always dreamed of having a large family, myself.

Then there's the flip side, where I contemplate overpopulation and responsible parenting and all the things that can go wrong with an advanced maternal age and pregnancy in general. And there's also that bit of me that feels guilty and greedy for wanting more children - when there are so many without.

Those things definitely mean something to my brain - that component of my body that thinks and processes information. I consider the strain each additional human being puts on the earth and our natural resources. And I consider the strain each additional human being puts on our wallet, especially once they enter college.

But money and overcrowding mean nothing to my heart.

So about 20 months ago, we decided that we'd just see what happened. If, you know, we threw caution to the wind. After a full year and a half, nothing did happen. Which in many ways (and quite ridiculously, perhaps), made me incredibly frustrated with my body in a way that was eerily reminiscent of the feelings I'd experienced when we were struggling with infertility way back when. The primary difference being that now, I'd have four gorgeous children to scoop up and hug. Which meant the sting wasn't nearly as painful, although still there.

Eventually, and somewhat tearfully for me, we concluded that my spontaneous conception with Henry truly WAS a miracle. We concluded that we'd focus on our blessings and raising our four amazing children.

We concluded that we would move 3,000 miles cross-country this summer. We concluded that I'd accept this position in Virginia and work from an office. We concluded that sustaining my career was truly the best option for our family, now and particularly in the long term.

We concluded that Charlie will be home full time, working on his business part time. We concluded that this arrangement will be wonderful for all involved. We concluded that the triplets will be starting kindergarten in the fall at around the same time Henry will be starting preschool two to three mornings a week.

We concluded that the baby stage was firmly behind us and it was time to clean out our garage and give away our cribs and baby gear.

So that's exactly what we did.

We began fixing up our house for sale or rent, and we began looking at houses in Virginia within five miles of the office. And then, we truly experienced a feeling of peace as we focused on this next new and exciting phase of our life because (repeat after me) THE BABY PHASE IS MOST DEFINITELY OVER FOR US.

And well, as I learned on the night of my 39th birthday...

It appears someone disagrees.

i'm just waiting for the skywriter

I can't recall ever feeling so torn about making a decision, in my entire life.



This is absolutely ridiculous.

I've prayed so much and have received so many conflicting 'signs' that I've resigned myself to asking God that He please send an airplane towing a written message across the sky to alleviate any uncertainty once and for all.

A lot of people have told me that there is no correct choice. I completely disagree. I believe that there IS a choice that is better than others. A choice that will allow me flexibility in my life to be with my children more throughout the day. A choice that will allow my husband and I a better opportunity to raise our family, together. A choice that will create less stress - financially, emotionally and physically.

I think I know what that choice is.

And I'm just not very happy with it.

Because it means that we won't experience moving in to a cool new house, we won't have the thrill of seasons, I won't be safeguarding my career, and I won't be an inch closer to my parents. And I highly doubt I'll ever have an opportunity like THIS one, again.

But. Then. I remember.

If we move, I will be required to be in an office every day. Chances are, I'll be gone from the house upwards of 10 hours a day. And while I'm not opposed to working long hours, I am opposed to being gone for such a large stretch of time from my small children who are only awake for around 12 hours each day and who aren't going to be small, forever.



The time that I would see them, would be a flurry of busyness in the morning - as I dash out the door to work - and again at night, when I return home in my formal business attire and ditch my attaché by the door so I can quickly swing in to the bedtime routine.

Then again...

If I were to work in an office everyday, I'd probably have a much better work-life balance than I do, currently. Because some days, I will work 15 hours a day. And the truth is, I have a very difficult time juggling work and life. I'll often get on my computer to work first thing in the morning - taking small breaks throughout the day only to sit and play with the children, or read them stories - and remain on my computer, while still working, until the late hours of the night. And the next day, it starts all over again. I'll get so distracted with work - and children - there are absolutely no breaks for me.

If I was in an office, my work day would begin and it would end. When I'd leave for work in the morning, I'd know I'd have the next eight plus hours of time, completely devoid of children asking you to tie their shoes, or listen to what just happened, or look at how I learned to use a jump rope!



If I was in an office every day, I'd have time - undisturbed - in which to work. When I'd leave the office and go home for the night, work wouldn't come with me. And since there is an exercise facility on the campus of the office, I'd have ample time - every day - to work out, over lunch.

It sounds idyllic.

Except, I'd only see my beautiful children two hours a day.

And that sounds very much like Hell on fire.

Because my husband is extremely qualified, and we fully want to explore all options available to us, Charlie has been interviewing with a few different entities regarding employment. Of course, if Charlie were to accept a full time job, I'd quit mine, since we've made the commitment that one of us will be home with the children.

But the challenge that we've discovered is that if Charlie works full time, his schedule will pull him away for 11+ hours a day, as well. Which, YES, I know that's just how it is and some people have it a lot worse, but the thing is ... for the past six years ... we've been incredibly spoiled. And neither of us are ready to go in to that full time rat race again, where we'd be away from home all day busy, busy, busy. Especially considering our current situation and recognition that in a short while, it's going to be very helpful to have all hands on deck. Moreover, none of the employment opportunities that Charlie has considered would offer nearly the same long term benefits that my employer does.

Sometimes I feel so stagnant here. Like I've been treading water for a long (long, long, long) time, just waiting to push off the wall and propel myself to the next stop in this pool of life.

When I was expecting the triplets, we thought about moving in to a new house. When I was expecting Henry, we thought about moving in to a new house. Since Henry has arrived, I've received no less than three job opportunities that would move us in to a new area. Some people might think that I'm creating my own stress ... and maybe I am. But it certainly doesn't help that my job will be gone in two years and every one is telling me if I don't jump soon, I will run out of time. Whenever an offer comes up, I'm expected to at least consider it. And since things will be drying up in the next few years, I'd be foolish to not think about what lies down the road.

With each of the opportunities that have come up, it never felt like the right fit. And although I'd graciously say, "No," I always felt like I wasn't being a faithful employee. Because someone who really had their career at the front of their radar would have accepted an opportunity long ago.

Maybe I would have, too.

If I didn't have four small children at home.

With the economy being what it is - and the scarcity of jobs - I do want to keep my career at the front of my radar because I want to insure that my family has stability. It's very important to me that we have excellent medical benefits and food in the refrigerator and absolutely no fear that we won't be able to make our next mortgage payment. And if Dreyer's ice cream isn't on sale and it's been a particularly difficult day, I want to be able to afford it, anyway.



This time, the job transfer did feel right. Although there was definitely some waffling, what it came down to is that for the first time in 20 years, we received a "free" ticket to be closer to my family. Although there was no discussion of a "promotion" (aka, increased salary) we felt confident that we'd be able to make ends meet, despite moving in to a more costly home.

But then.

Everything changed. And now, I suddenly realize that the best arrangement for me is to have the flexibility to work from home ... and possibly, work part time, for at least the next few years. And I don't see how we could comfortably live off one part-time salary, in a house with a mortgage possibly 30% higher than our current mortgage.

So we stay here. And kiss goodbye the free ticket back east and dream of living closer to my family, and experiencing seasons and a white Christmas. And instead, we start considering what we're going to do in two years when we have NO jobs.

DEEP BREATHS.

Today, we took the children to Balboa Park. Elizabeth was riding on the carousel and she was frantic to get off one ride, and on to the next. From her position on the merry-go round, she had already figured out the next attraction she wanted to visit and where she wanted to sit.



Much to my dismay, my five-year-old was totally absorbed with anticipation as she planned what was coming up next and in doing so, failed to experience the joy in the moment. Although I told her to just relax and savor the ride that she was on, I could certainly understand her struggles.

She is my daughter, after all.

favorite thing friday

Last month, when the Easter Bunny was at Target looking for things to stuff in Easter baskets, she happened to stumble upon a cool new crayon from Crayola.



What drew the Easter Bunny to this particular crayon were the bright, vibrant colors and the fact that they were thick enough for small hands to easily grasp.



So, the Easter Bunny bought four packs.



And these crayons turned out to be the biggest hit at Easter. Not only did our four children enjoy playing with them, so did our teen aged nieces and nephew, who were visiting from Michigan. On Easter afternoon, right around the same time the magnitude 7.2 earthquake almost knocked everyone down - we were happily coloring.



I'm not exactly sure what is in these crayons (I suppose I could look at the label, but eh, Charlie's cuing up a movie for us to watch) but they are so smooth. If you press too hard, they tend to get flaky - and the flakes are like chunks of oily crayon that can stick to things. I'm sure some might complain that they make a mess, but in my opinion, anything that's really fun for a child is usually also messy. If it's messy, it's fun.

Case in point: finger painting. And Playdoh. And mud pies.

(Need I go on?)

Anyway, a month later, we still color almost every day. And best of all, we have been sending all of our artistic expressions to people, with a little handwritten note that reads, "We're thinking of you. We love you. We hope you are having a wonderful day."



We've dubbed it, "Operation Sunshine."



And it brings us just as much joy as those who receive our creations.

i'm giving myself a standing ovation

Even though I accepted this transfer to Virginia, earlier in the month, the thing that has been weighing on me the most is that in this new role - I would be required to be in our corporate office, five days a week. Over the past few days, the picture that has been painted for me, from people who work there, is that those who are not the first to arrive and the last to leave, are viewed less favorably than those who commit their entire lives to their work.

And well ... that's just not how I roll. Because while I do work hard and have a lot of passion for my career, it's not my life. My life is made up of a lot of things, and at this juncture, my children are among the most important.



Now that there's been a new "twist" in our situation (and for those 200+ people who have left me comments that I have yet to publish inquiring IS IT WHAT I THINK IT IS? the answer is YES) my priorities have shifted even more, once again.

My current boss called me earlier this week to tell me that because the children are due to start kindergarten in the Fall, this move would happen in June. So that by July 1, I am sitting behind my desk, in my new office, in my new assignment. A new assignment which sounds absolutely wonderful to me. Minus the whole sitting in my new office every day stuff.

Being who I am, ye unable to hold a secret, I spilled the beans and told my boss what is going on. I also told him that I suddenly have considerable hesitation (and heartburn) (and nausea) (and bouts of drowsiness) about taking a job that will pull me away from my family for 40+ hours a week.

He said that he understood. And he called his boss to tell him the situation.

When my boss called me back a few minutes later he essentially told me that the boat had left the dock. I accepted the position, they expect me in the position. In an office. Monday through Friday. Either Seven to Four. Eight to Five. Or Nine to Six. My boss was told by his boss, that he needs to coach me to take this job because it has already been communicated to senior management and there is no backing out. If we need assistance with childcare, we can hire a nanny.

(Or two.)

Now, please. Imagine my response, if you will.

First, imagine me thinking, "Are you seriously telling me that I need to put my CAREER before my FAMILY?" And then, imagine those words coming out of my mouth before I could stop them. Words to the effect of, "Are you telling me that I need to put my CAREER before my FAMILY?"

EVERY WEEK DAY?

To some, this might not seem like a big deal, but to me, someone who has worked out of their home for the past 10 years, in an extremely flexible job, it's like being thrown in to a lion's den.

There was more discussion, most notably - my boss telling me that although the expectation is that I accept this job, he does not want to feel guilt down the road for putting me in a position that rips me away from my children.

(My boss is a very good, compassionate man.)

We concluded the conversation and I told him that I'd be in touch.

The next day he called again. Twice. But I never answered my phone because I didn't know what to say. There is a BIG part of me that wants to move and since I said I'd take it, I feel like I should. Moreover, I essentially had us mentally packed and out the door, living on the east coast - two months from now.

But as more information emerges about this job and what the expectations are on me, I feel positively weak. Like I have absolutely no control over how the company is going to use me, and work me, and drag me away from my family, and yuck. I don't want it. Despite the benefits and pension and all things that shine and glimmer.

I DON'T WANT IT.

Because the gain is not worth the loss.

Today, I decided that I just couldn't avoid my boss any longer, so I called him. And because I'm nothing if not open to a fault, I told him that the reason he hasn't heard from me in the past few days is because I have been deliberately hiding from him and screening all calls.

Then I told him that while I want this job and I am more than happy to move, and even though I've already accepted it, I absolutely will not take on a job that will force me to be in the office - five days a week for at least eight hours a day. Especially given my current situation. Ahem.

If, however, the company is willing to allow me some flexibility - such that I arrive every day at around 9 AM, and depart every afternoon at around 1 PM, and continue my work in the early morning, or evening, once the children are down for the night, that would suit me just fine. But I am not going to consistently tell my children that Mommy cannot volunteer in their kindergarten class room because it would be frowned upon by her company.

I am not going to miss out on my children's lives because of WORK.

My boss, a man that I really respect and appreciate, hesitated before saying, "OK, so let me make sure I've got this straight. You don't want this job?" I replied, "No, I do want this job and I want the relocation. But I don't want this job under the conditions that I currently anticipate."

He hesitated again and said, "So, what you are saying is, you cannot take this job and be in the office every day from 8 to 5?" I clarified, "It's not that I cannot take this job ... it's that I will not take this job, with zero workplace flexibility. So if they are not willing to make that concession, I am not willing to take it."

After a long pause, he said, "The problem is, if you want this kind of flexibility, all working mothers will want this kind of flexibility. We can't make a concession for you that we don't make for everyone else."

And I responded, "Well, I don't see that as being a problem. It is my belief that a HAPPY employee is a PRODUCTIVE employee and if you can find a way to merge family life more seamlessly with work life, you might see an increase in productivity from your employees with young children who are silently stewing and biding their time until they can break off the golden handcuffs, snatch that golden carrot and quit."

He was quiet as I continued, "I would bet that the vast majority of working mothers, with young children, and who are locked in an office, are being eaten up inside because they are away from their children for 50+ hours a week. We brought these little people in to the world so what? We can see them two, maybe three, waking hours a day? That is totally unacceptable. In this day and age and in our profession, with computers and cell phones and broadband coverage, it doesn't have to be that way. It shouldn't be that way. It's time our management evolves to better accommodate the working parent. There are a lot of excellent employees out there who are simply not willing to sacrifice their family life for their career. However good that career might be."

My boss laughed and said, "I totally understand your position. But let me take it up line and see what happens. I'm not feeling too optimistic that management will endorse your plan."



Eh, I'm not feeling too optimistic either.

But I am feeling a whole lot better that they know full well what I'm capable of committing.

And what I'm not.

the mood today: cranky, fussy and totally unsettled

Well ... that didn't help much.

breathe, just breathe...

Have you ever had that experience in life, where you can very clearly see that there is a fork in the road coming up and you'll soon need to make a decision which path to take?



And people tell you that the answer will present itself if you listen to God, but God isn't really giving you a clear answer? Or maybe He is and you really stink at reading signs?



And so you struggle with what the "right" path is and you weigh all the pros and cons and you sleep on it, for several nights, and you pray and you ponder and you poll people about what they'd do and then you try not to think about it at all because quieting the mind is supposed to be helpful?



And just when you finally settle on a new course and things are set in to motion, you're traversing along a surreal track of stuff! happening! and suddenly, the whole dang road disappears and now you're floating in a river - like a dream?

But it's NOT a dream?

It's YOUR reality?



And everyone around you is smiling and laughing and full of glee at the changes that are coming your way and inside there is a little voice that is screaming, "OH MY HOLY HECK, WHAT HAVE I DONE?! I'VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE! DON'T SELL THE HOUSE! DON'T MOVE! I MUST TURN AROUND BEFORE I GO OVER THE WATERFALL!!!"



And then, there is another voice that is countering, "WOO HOO!! WATERFALLS ARE GREAT!! THIS IS A WONDERFUL, INVIGORATING CHOICE, THE MOST AWESOME OF ALL CHOICES THAT HAVE EVER HAD THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING CHOSEN!! THIS IS LIFE AT IT'S FINEST!!"

And you don't really know which voice to listen to?

And so you are wrought with fear that you are about to mess things up?

(Or maybe not? Who really knows anymore??)

Today was a beautiful day in southern California. Once again, I was reminded how much I love our small house, our wonderful friends, our community and this area in general. Then, I received a phone call.

I'm due to be in Virginia on July 1.

A place, that I know is also beautiful. A place that will be equal distance between my family in Massachusetts and my family in South Carolina. A place where our children will have a better chance of knowing their extended family and have the joy of experiencing seasons. A place that is new and different and fun. A place where I will be in an office and will hopefully have some better structure to my days. A place where I also hope that I'll have enough flexibility with my career that I won't feel like I'm missing out on the vast majority of my children's lives because if I do ... well, then I'll just promptly quit and we'll all be homeless.

(No pressure there.)

Since I need to be in the office by July 1, that means that over the next eight weeks ... we need to sell (or rent) our home in California, buy (or rent) a new home in Virginia (preferably one that won't make us totally house poor and yet, is close to the office), move our family 3,000 miles cross-country, get settled in, get myself acclimated to a new role, register the children for Kindergarten, find new doctors and a new church and a new recycling facility (unless they offer curbside pickup?), get new drivers' licenses and professional registrations, and drink vast quantities of wine.



Oh yeah.

Wait a minute...

Scratch that last one.

the father of my children

Last year, on my birthday, we bought annual passes for Legoland.



As we made the rather large purchase for five season tickets (children under three get in free), we justified the cost by convincing ourselves that we would go at least once a month.

For the first two months, we did exactly that. But since Legoland is a solid one hour drive north of us, for months three through eleven, we didn't go at all. About a month ago, we realized that our passes were going to expire on April 20, so we started squeezing in trips whenever possible.

Over the past six weeks, we've been seven times.

During one of our recent trips, Charlie and the triplets went on a ride that consists of a boat, on a track, that traverses through a lagoon type environment. The boat is equipped with small water cannons, so as you move along, you can spray people that are standing outside the ride track. To make things more fun (and wet), just outside the ride track, there are larger water cannons that people can aim at those riding on the boat.

While on that maiden voyage, Charlie was absolutely drenched by a young boy who had him trapped in his sights. My husband tried to defend himself - by squirting the young kid back - but his inferior water cannon didn't rotate, and even if it could, the trajectory never would have been sufficient to reach the smirking boy.

So my husband did what any adult male would do.

Once he got off the ride, he went right over to the larger water cannons and set up camp for the next hour, waiting to drench any other riders that went by on the track. Because if he got wet, he was going to get others wet.







That's just how the universe works.



My husband quickly realized that it didn't look so good for a grown man to be drenching people on a boat ride, so he thrust our small children behind the cannons and then showed them how to keep their eye on the boat - select a rider that they wanted to soak - and then track the rider for as long as they could.









The end result was a large number of riders who were just as drenched as my husband.



And this made him very happy.



Especially since he had our five-year-olds to blame it on.

the letter of the day

I'd like to blame it on my state of mind at the moment, that I wrote something I most definitely should have waited for at least a little while longer to write about.

We're in a state of incredible flux at the moment. Obviously, details on this topic are further going to emerge, but for right now ... they probably shouldn't. All it took for me to realize my mistake was a rational human being to say, "Are you out of your MIND writing about this on your blog?!"

So the letter of the day is: Z.

As in Zzzzzz, which is something I feel like doing most of my waking hours, Zapped a fairly accurate term to capture my state of mind, and also Zipped, which is what my lips (and fingers) will be for at least another few weeks.

the price for peace? $200.00 plus tax

I've been away at a meeting all week and have had absolutely no time to sit down and update my blog. Although, I have been giving my thumbs an excellent workout each day by updating Twitter with the new iPhone Charlie gave me for my birthday.

When Charlie's Blackberry broke in February and he replaced it with an iPhone, I immediately began to notice that my husband was spending an exorbitant amount of time playing with his new toy. At night, before he'd go to sleep, he'd be fiddling with various applications. During lunch when the kids were eating, he'd be figuring out something new and I'd hear gasps punctuated with, "Oh man. This thing is SO cool!"

While waiting for bread to toast or clothes to dry, he'd be improving his score on the Imbecile Test, he'd search for restaurants, flower shops and golf stores using the map feature. Then, just for fun, he'd check out the traffic conditions in his old neighborhoods. It seemed that he always had that thing in his grasp. He'd even take it on runs using some Nike application that would track his total distance, calories burned, average speed and elevation covered all the while - providing an assortment of music for his motivational enjoyment.

After a few weeks of this, I very casually made a "comment" that maybe if I had a silver apple adhered to my forehead, he'd notice me as much as his precious phone.

Then I commented that people who carry their phones around and are texting all the time are totally obnoxious. I mean, what is so critically important that they always have to have those things out? Whenever I see people with children who are constantly on their phone (i.e., people at Legoland that went on to roller coasters and came off roller coasters, all the while talking and texting), it takes great restraint for me to not yell out, "Put that electronic leash down!! Why not ENJOY YOUR LIFE, even if just for an afternoon, WITHOUT technological interference!"

Right about that same time, Charlie decided that I needed to have my own iPhone. And now that I have one, I can't put it down either because ...

OMG, IT REALLY IS THE COOLEST THING EVER.

It's a GPS!

It's the internet!

It's a massive music repository!

It's a computer!

It's a phone!

You can play games, check the stock market, the weather, the news headlines, retrieve and send e-mail, watch full length feature movies, pay bills, order plane tickets, pinpoint your exact geographic location, decipher how fast you are moving, latitude and longitude, where you are - where you are going - and order dinner so it's ready by the time you get there.

At night, I've been checking out various applications. And for the past several days, during every break at our meeting, I'm taking pictures, video, and trying to improve my score on the Imbecile Test. My new iPhone makes my old cell phone look about as advanced as a rock.

Because with my old cell phone, I could do nothing except place and receive phone calls. I very rarely sent text messages that were longer than one word, because to do so, I'd have to type using the numerical key pad.

For instance, Charlie would send me a text message from his iPhone that would read, "Hi Love! I hope you are having a spectacular day! We had wonderful time at the park, the zoo, and now - we're heading home to start getting ready for dinner. When will you be here?"

And for me to respond, "I'll be home soon," I'd need to type, "4, 4, 4 (I); 9 (W), 4, 4, 4 (I), 5, 5, 5 (L), 5, 5, 5 (L); 2, 2 (B), 3, 3, (E); 4, 4 (H), 6, 6, 6 (O), 6 (M), 3, 3 (E); 7, 7, 7, 7 (S), 6, 6, 6 (O), 6, 6, 6 (O), 6, 6 (N)."

Yes, I know there is an easier way to do this - I just don't know how. So I'd stew when Charlie would send me another text message that would read, "I've been thinking, what do you think you'd like for dinner tonight? We have fresh salmon I could throw on the barbecue, or we could have tacos or fajitas. What sounds good to you my precious buttercup?"

If I didn't abhor talking on the phone so much (even to my beloved), I'd just call him back. But instead, I'd shoot over a one word answer that always bothered my husband. Instead of typing, "The salmon sounds divine, thanks love!" I'd write back "fish" which was really "3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 7, 4, 4." My one word response would inevitably prompt yet another text message from my husband that would inquire, "Are you having a tough day? Why so grumpy? Does someone need a vacation? WINK!"

Alas, now that I have my very own iPhone, I haven't stopped texting my husband complex messages about topics ranging from the impetus for the Boston Tea Party, to the statistical correlation of earthquakes around the world relative to dense population centers, to our five-year-olds who are trying to rid society of cigarettes, one smoker at a time and much to our horrible embarrassment.

Have you ever witnessed a five-year-old admonishing an absolute (smoking) stranger by saying, "You need to stop using those yucky things or you will get THE cancer!"?

(Yep. That is one experience you'd be alright to skip.)

Charlie is thrilled beyond belief to have an iPhone buddy because for the past three days, there have been no less than 100 text messages and photos exchanged between my husband and I. Including one that I really want to share but Charlie is forbidding. (At least for now.)

But keep your eye on Twitter.

I'll be posting it soon enough.

39 is mighty fine

For the past twenty three years, every time I would step foot - or simply look at a plane - I would think back to the prediction my geometry class mate made during my tenth grade year. That silly little prediction which involved me perishing in a plane crash, sometime when I was 38.

(That silly little prediction made quite an impact.)



Today marks my 39th birthday.

And I'm so glad my classmate was wrong.



Because I'd be so bummed to be missing out on a single minute of this great life.

My mother asked me the other day what I wanted for my birthday and absolutely nothing comes to mind. I've got my health, a wonderful husband and a cherished family.

What more could I ever possibly want?

So my birthday wish this year is for simply more of the same.

With maybe an extra dash of wisdom and less cravings for chocolate in the late afternoon.