Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I got it I got it I got it I got it

I got the job!  :)

Of course I did.  Why wouldn't I?  As one of the interviewers pointed out, I'm more than qualified and I know I interview really well.  But still, the nerves always get to me and for days before the event I practiced my answers to questions while on the bog, or driving, or waiting for Little O to stop screaming like a banshee and go the fluck to sleep.  But I digress.  It was lovely to finally be back in a work environment, and now we move on to the next phase of sorting out Little O's daycare arrangements.

My husband's mother is coming to stay with us next week to learn the ropes of looking after Little O, and to help us out while I start my new position.  Initially we thought we were going to need her from Monday 4th Oct, but there was a huge balls-up with the drug test this afternoon and now I won't be able to start until Wednesday.  But no matter: it's nice that she's able (and willing, more importantly) to drop everything and visit us while we're in need.  Very, very nice.  The drug test incident, to clarify, wasn't an error on MY part.  I'm drug free.  In fact, the last pot I smoked was before Little O was even conceived, so it's not as though I'm having to wait to re-take the test or something.  No, the problem was that I arrived at the testing centre (center, I suppose) with a small child in tow.  Apparently some "parents" - I use the term loosely - have used their child's urine in place of their own to avoid detection, so now kids aren't allowed in.  I asked if Little O could stay outside the bathroom while I completed the test, but they don't have liability insurance or waivers so that wasn't allowed either.  So I was told to go away and find child care arrangements, and then come back by myself.  The whole thing is so infuriating, because if I'd been able to find someone to look after Little O this week, I would have started the new job earlier... grr...

Anyway, I'm taking the test Friday morning before my husband and I take Little O to get the results of his MRI test, so now the drug test results won't be available until Tuesday, which means I can't start until Wednesday.  I'm sure it doesn't send the greatest message to my new employers, but quite frankly they can lump it.  THEY'RE the ones who want my pee so badly, so they can jolly well wait until I'm ready to give it to them.

But I am excited.  And it's a contract-to-permanent position, which means even if they choose not to renew the contract come February, I already know in advance and can start looking for better paid other work.  Plus, if we do decide to have another baby (took a test or seven and I'm NOT currently pregnant... which is a bit of a relief now this job's come up) then I can take the third trimester easy at home, sitting on a comfortable cushion of hard-earned dollar bills, yo.

Yay for me!  I think Little O's good luck charm worked.  :)


Monday, September 27, 2010

The greatest good luck charm EVER

This evening Little O said "Mama" for the very first time.  I have my interview this week and it's the greatest good luck charm I've ever had.  He's so cute when he says his Ms; he approaches them cautiously, as though he's warming up: "Aaaaa hhhhmmm mmmmaaaa".  He likes to practice them in the car while we listen to music, and sometimes he even hums along and dances to the beat.

Tonight was the first time he really responded to me saying "Mama" to him though, because after copying me a few times and getting out a couple of "Mmmmaaa" sounds, he suddenly went "Mama", completely out of the blue.  What a wonderful feeling, to hear your child say your name.

I was so happy I cried.


Wednesday, September 22, 2010


I got an interview!  Like Butterfly Charlie, I'm not going to say more about it just yet, but I'm pretty hopeful.

Now I just need to sort out a babysitter for Little O.  Hope my husband bucks his ideas up a little and helps me find a solution...

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The big secret

I'm about 6 weeks pregnant, I think, and have told a lot of people. I told my family immediately. I found out on a Saturday, and told everyone at work on the Monday. I haven't told many friends, just a close few. Any others I'm going to tell as and when I see them. I'll do the big Facebook broadcast once I've had my first scan.

Last time I was pregnant, I was horribly sick - puking most mornings, the works. I came in late, left early and was a fetching shade of green. As a primary school teacher, the majority of my colleagues are women and as such many of them are mothers. Most people suspected I was pregnant and grilled my closest work friends about it (who denied all knowledge, bless 'em). But no-one actually came and spoke to me! Everyone was talking about me, but no-one was talking to me! The stupid thing is, if anybody had approached me and said, "are you pregnant?" I would have answered, "yes, but please keep it to yourself".

I posted here:

about how unfair it is that during the first trimester, the time when you feel the worst and need the most support, you are not supposed to tell anyone. The reasons for this are that something like 95% of miscarriages happen some time in the first 12 weeks. So presumably, you wouldn't want to follow up the exciting announcement of a pregnancy with the sad one of a miscarriage.

Or would you? In a workplace full of women, mothers, children and family problems, my colleagues are a fabulous support network. We see each other through private and professional dramas, and rally round when somone is having a crisis, however large or small. In fact, I think that if I were to suffer a miscarriage - which is not that likely anyway, I'm not in any of the high-risk categories and have already had one straightforward pregnancy - my colleagues would provide me with tremendous support. If I suffered any other sort of loss or bereavement, I would want the support of the people around me. I wouldn't really want to soldier on as if nothing had happened. I wouldn't want it to be a secret. And therefore I can't see any good reason for me keeping early pregnancy a secret.

I'm lucky in that my employer is fully supportive (to the point of over-enthusiastic!) of staff having children. In other workplaces, it might be a good idea to keep it quiet until your maternity arrangments are fully in place, I don't know. But I've told everyone at work so that they know there's a good reason why I might not be keeping up properly, or be rather absent-minded, or be green. I want their support through this, because it's a big upheaval, even second time around. (Mind you, I seem to be getting evening sickness rather than morning sickness this time so maybe it would have been easy to conceal, I don't know!)

I play in a brass band and told one of my friends there, who herself has two children under the age of two, at the same time as another friend. She asked me how far along I was and I told her only a few weeks. "Well that's a bit silly, announcing it this early, isn't it?" she said, all judgemental. "Why?" I asked. "Well, you'd better hope nothing happens," she replied, implying a miscarriage. "But then I'd want people to know that as well," I said.

OK, so this particular friend is a bit like that, a bit judgy and speaks without thinking, but I reckon her comments only demonstrate the prevailing attitude in society. Where does this come from? Why should miscarriage be such a shameful secret? Why should early pregnancy be so embarrassing? Does this date back to a time when reproduction  - and naturally, women's bodies in general - was just so shameful that it wasn't mentioned in public until the physical evidence was unavoidable: i.e. the bump began to show, at the start of the second trimester? Probably.

Ugh, in other news, a friend has just found out she is expecting twins! Please God no! I haven't got room for two more, just one please! It hadn't even occured to me until she told me that of course, she hadn't known either until the scan. And mine is about 6 weeks away! Fingers crossed, just the one baby please!


Friday, September 17, 2010

The eternal question

I'm facing that eternal question; the one that plagues mothers everywhere:

"Should I go back to work?"

Yesterday I was sent an invitation to apply for a proofreading position at a pharmaceutical company 30 miles away, based in the same business park my husband used to work in (although for a different company).  We know the company and we know how far away it is (40 min commute), and we know that I am absolutely desperate to find meaning in my life beyond that of a-mother-with-a-special-needs-kid-who-does-some-freelancing-stuff-when-she-has-time.  So when this opportunity came up I was really interested, but I delayed in answering the e-mail because any decision I make involves the whole family.  It really does.

I spoke to my husband about it when he called home at lunchtime and he was very positive, saying I should definitely apply and totalling up how much extra income we would have if I got the job.  But something still stopped me, and it took me a while to figure it out.

Daycare isn't really an issue long-term.  I'm visiting a nursery on Monday that caters for children like Little O, and they seem very keen to have him on board, but they can't offer him a week-long placement until mid-October, which is awkward.  I'd be able to get him in all day Monday and Friday for a few weeks, but that would still leave Tues-Thurs with no care.  Then my Dad comes out to visit at the end of October and it would be a shame to have Little O in daycare the whole time, and me at a new job.  But come November, and daycare and family issues will be resolved, and I'll have plenty of time for a full-time position.

The commute also doesn't bother me, although the hours are a little sticky.  It would be 50 hrs a week, plus occasional Saturdays, depending on deadlines.  Thankfully I'm a very fast worker when I know what I'm doing, so I anticipate meeting their expectations and then surpassing them, and not actually having to work many Saturdays at all.  I'm also not afraid to commit a large portion of my time to a new job if I really enjoy it.  I actually love working in offices, but I've never found a JOB that I like.  Perhaps that would change.

No, the thing that bothered me and took a while to surface, was my husband's attitude to Little O's care.  My husband is almost as much of a feminist as I am, but on this particular topic it's as though he's thrown all notion of equal parenting out of the window.  When we were discussing specifics last night in bed, I reminded him that if I were to work full-time, it would mean I couldn't take Little O to all the appointments and therapy sessions that I do now.  Actually, at least initially, I wouldn't be able to do ANY of them because I'd be in a new job and trying to make a good impression.  So I requested that he look into his employer's flexi-time policy, and find out whether he can start shifting his hours a little to accomodate Little O's care.

His response was quite astounding.  He said, "No, they won't go for that", and turned over in bed.  End of discussion.  I was gobsmacked, so I pulled him back over to face me and asked him why.  He said they're really busy, and besides, WE need the money.  It struck me that he sees his job and my (potential) job differently.  As far as he's concerned, it's ME who needs to ask for flexi-time because HIS job is already stable, and because it's MY responsibility to take care of Little O.  I was lost for words.  I had always assumed that if I worked full-time again, that parenting our son would be shared equally - indeed, before we knew about Little O's problems, I'd intended to go back to work much sooner than this.  So what the hell is going on?

I feel like I'm meeting everyone else's needs and schedules... what about mine?  I've given up my career to this point to be an advocate and parent to my son, but I feel like it's my time again.  I WANT to go back to work, but I CAN'T do it if my husband won't meet me halfway.  I just can't roll up to a new employer and tell them I need three days off a month to take my son to appointments because my husband won't help me.  It isn't fair to ask that of me, or my (potential) company.  I don't know what's going on.  Maybe my husband's afraid of losing his job, or taking on extra responsibility at home; I don't know.  But I do know that I can't have a full-time job AND be the primary caregiver.  Not with Little O.

In the end, I did apply for the job, via an agency.  I explained my situation to them and they seemed accomodating, but they recommended I don't tell the company until I'm offered a position.  If and when that happens I'm going to feel really guilty, because it will feel like I've misled them.  I'm already panicking about finding childcare for Little O for when I have to go to an interview - how the hell do I pick up those extra three days a week too?  Frankly, I feel confident that I'll get the job if I get an interview, because unlike other jobs I've gone for where I just need the money, in this instance I'm really invested in the position itself.  And I'm fucking good at what I do and I'm confident in my abilities, so selling myself to an employer should be okay.  It's just post-interview that I'm worried about.

I need a grandparent around for about a month, I think.  Someone to take care of Little O while I get a job organised; someone who can take him to his appointments and act on my behalf.  But I also need a husband who supports my decision to go back to work properly, on MY terms.  It's all very difficult.  Exciting, but difficult.


Tuesday, September 14, 2010


My sweet sweet baby has discovered he has an opinion.  Wait, let me rephrase that: he has an OPINION!!

For a child who cannot talk, sign, or generally communicate to me what his needs and wants are, he sure is getting good at telling me anyway.  He has entered a rather amusing phase in his life where tantrums are starting to play a significant role in his communication skills.  We're not sure he'll ever be able to speak in the same way you and I do (well, not my little sister V - she and Little O may have a lot in common), but he's certainly finding his voice.

I was brushing my teeth this morning and put Little O on the bathroom counter so he could watch.  He likes to play with the lotions and potions up there and it keeps him from scooting around on his backside outta the door and down the stairs.  I gave him a packet of flossups to play with while I was occupied with a toothbrush, and he was very happy watching me and chewing on the plastic wrapping while he waited.  Well, then I wanted to USE a flossup to floss my teeth with, which required me to extricate said item from small child.  This did not go down well.  He SCREAMED, went red in the face, burst into tears, and started whacking his thighs with tiny, bunched-up fists of infant fury.  I found the whole thing terribly funny, especially as, as soon as I'd got out a flossup and given them back to him, he stopped his tantrum instantly and resumed chewing the corner of the packet.

Ah, I love Little O.  The more 'normal' stuff he does, the prouder I am of him.  It's just such a joy to see him achieve a goal he's really struggled with, as well as the other 'norrmal' development milestones like throwing temper tantrums.  At this point I love everything he does, from the back-scooting to the tantrums.  Ask me again in a month though and I may have changed my mind...


Sunday, September 12, 2010


I am a useless person.

Well, to be more accurate, I am a person who has worked full-time since her son was less than 10 weeks old, who devotes a minimum of two evenings a week to playing in and managing a band, and who has spent the last year or so buying and moving into a property. (A key worker property. Do you know how complicated that is??) What I actually am is a busy person.

And as such I have, since S's birth, written but two posts. Both about said birth. Surely I cannot really claim to be a contributor to this blog at all.

However, I feel I must at least post this: I found out yesterday that I am pregnant with our second baby. Congratulations to me, I feel.

(Do not confuse me with Tina at this point! She might be, whereas I definitely am!)


Friday, September 10, 2010

Scissor Sisters

I think I forgot to say that I went to a Scissor Sisters' concert last week.  Well, I say 'concert'... it was more of a down-and-dirty 'gig' in a dive bar.  And it was FABULOUS.  I cannot believe I haven't written about it yet.

I'm a big fan of tunes with heavy basslines, clever lyrics, and a beat you can shake yer ass to, and the Scissor Sisters fill those requirements beautifully.  Their first two albums were really disco-ey and funky, and their third has become a more mature sound, with a focus on really filthy lyrics.  They played stuff from all three albums at the gig and because I am, by nature, a woman who insists on knowing ALL the lyrics to ALL the songs she loves, I sang my throat sore to everything they performed. 

It may not be cool to love disco, soul, and funk as much as I do, but I do.  I cannot help it.  I MUST dance and shake my ass as much as possible when I listen to music, and after D sent me Paloma Faith's album I have been cranking up the volume on that too (yeah... I know it came out last year, but I live in Cheeseland, Wisconsin, and we don't get funky shit released that much over here).  I'm not cool.  I know that.  But I'm okay with it, because it means I get to meet fabulous gays and too-cool lesbians at dive bars in Milwaukee that play host to the Scissor Sisters.  I fuckin' LOVE IT.

Driving home from the gig I felt drunk.  Or high.  Something, anyway.  I'd only had a single Malibu and Diet Coke so I knew I wasn't actually drunk, but it was the most beautiful feeling.  My throat was hoarse and my ears didn't stop ringing for three days, but I felt so energised and... well... happy.  I truly felt like I deserved a night out with J & G and my new 400+ friends in tight jeans, and while I was dancing and singing away I honestly forgot where I was and who I was.  I was no longer in Cheeseland or a wife and mother; I was just a silly, happy party beast.  It was a fantastic feeling and it really invigorated me the following weekend.  Don't get me wrong: reading and writing and massages and taking walks are all lovely, relaxing things to do.  But they don't speak to me like a gig like that one did.  I didn't have any responsibilities at all for three whole hours, and I got to feel the way I did when I was younger, boogy-ing my way through university.

Honestly - and I know this sounds crap - I think I had a spiritual moment.  I think the music gods of the sky were patting me on the back and telling me it's okay for me to stop being Tina the Wife and Tina the Mother once in a while, and just be Tina the Magnificent.  It was fucking unbelieveable. 

I want to do it again.


Sunday, September 5, 2010


Coming down from using hormones is astonishing.  Just astonishing.

I've been using the Depo Provera shot since June 09: six weeks after the birth of Little O.  You may remember I posted this account of my frustrations at the inadequacy of contraceptive options for women back in April 09, and how shocked I was that there was nothing out there that really fitted my needs.  Well, my needs after the early arrival of Little O changed somewhat - I wasn't able to breastfeed him directly and once we had him home the schedule of expressing, sterilising, feeding, and ensuring he stayed upright long enough to not aspirate on his own vomit, just proved too exhausting and I had to give up providing breastmilk altogether.  It's not something I'm proud of, but that's what had to happen.  Anyway, because I wasn't breastfeeding I was able to choose a contraceptive that interfered with a nursing mother's supply, and so I choose Depo Provera.  It is administered by a nurse using a needle in the upper arm and lasts for three months.  It's GREAT if you hate taking a pill every day; it's GREAT if you don't want to get pregnant for a while (over 99.9% reliable); it's GREAT if you don't like having periods; and it's GREAT if you hate using barrier methods such as condoms.


Depo Provera SUCKS if you don't want to gain weight (70% of women gain more than 10lb in their first year of use); it SUCKS if you are prone to depression (it has been found to increase this tendency dramatically); it SUCKS if you want to have sex with a partner on a regular basis (it can severely limit your sex drive); it SUCKS if you want strong bones (it can irreversibly affect bone density after two years of continuous use); and it SUCKS if you want to conceive a child in the near future.

Let's go through that a little, shall we?

I am... how shall I put this?  A little heavy.  I'll admit it.  I love food and I love sitting on my arse watching TV, and I hate exercise for the sake of losing weight.  I put on nearly 40lb when I was pregnant, although I lost 30lb of that in the first four weeks after giving birth.  So I was still 10lb over my pre-pregnancy weight, and I had started that adventure being about 40lb overweight to begin with.  So really, my doctor should have advised me that, being about 50lb overweight during my consultation with him, that I should look for another method of birth control until I had successfully lost some weight.  I might have smacked him one, and I might have gone ahead with the Depo Provera shot regardless, but I still should have been informed either way.

Secondly, when I went to visit my doctor, my son was still a teeny tiny premature newborn with an extremely rare genetic disorder that no-one, not even a geneticist, could give me an accurate prognosis for.  Mothers of babies who stay in the NICU for any length of time are SEVEN TIMES more likely to suffer from some form of post-partum depression than other mothers.  If my doctor wasn't aware of any mood changes I was experiencing the first time he administered the shot, he sure as hell should have checked in on me for subsequent shots to make sure this method of contraception was still appropriate.  Because after six months, or two shots, it definitely definitely wasn't.  I was in full PPD mode, which later led to a more serious mental health issue, and not one single health care professional told me that the Depo Provera shot could be contributing. Also, my doctor doesn't see patients who are there just to receive a shot - you have to ask for a whole other appointment.  I really feel that that policy is negligent.  At the very least he should have recommended I see him personally after six months or a year, just to check it was still the best choice for me.

Thirdly, while I guffawed at my doctor when he said the shot could decrease my sex drive, I've found out the hard way how true that can be.  Having just given birth I wasn't planning on bonking my husband three times a day in the near future anyway, so putting a cap on my sexual activity seemed like no bad thing.  However, come six or nine months down the road, my husband and I were lucky if we managed a single bonk in a month.  A MONTH!  Forgive me for my bluntness, but we used to be four- or five-times-a-week kind of people before I got pregnant.  My husband was incredibly patient and we attributed my lack of interest to my adjustment disorder, but it put a huge strain on our marriage when I would only put out on a very limited basis.  A marriage needs a healthy sex life, but I was so unhappy that ours just withered away.

The bone thing is disturbing, no?  I don't think I've been affected - yet - because I stopped using Depo Provera after 15 months, but the fact your bone density can be damaged so easily without hope of reversal?  That's some scary shit.

And finally - if you want to have a child after using Depo Provera, you had better be in it for the long haul.  While the company that manufactures it claims fertility can return to normal immediately, there are countless stories on the internet to suggest otherwise.  The general consensus among women who know - women who've had at least one child already, used the shot, stopped using the shot, tried to get pregnant again and failed - is that it takes at least as long as you were on the shot to get pregnant again.  I used it for 15 months, which means it could take another 15 months to conceive.  Wow.  They say it can take six months for you to just start ovulating again and to regain regular periods, and another nine to 18 months to get pregnant.  Just wow.

I know it's my responsibility to do my own research and work out what's best for MY body before signing up to anything, but I do feel that there isn't enough material given to women about the Depo Provera shot.  I certainly wasn't given any literature at my doctor's office, and as a new mother of a special needs baby, I just wanted something that would take away any extra worries I had about getting pregnant for a bit.  I was NEVER told about the weight gain, depression, bone density side-effects, or the possibility of it taking so long to conceive again.

I am not an Earth Mother.  I am happy to put hormones into my body in order to prevent pregnancy.  I hate condoms (I think I must be a little allergic or something, because those things CHAFE) and I was on the pill from the age of 17.  I came off it at 25 and conceived within the first month, which meant I haven't had a normal period since I was a teenager.  I've always been fine with that because periods are not my friend.  I do not believe in embracing something I find unpleasant - just like I find bogeys, eye gunk, earwax, urine, poop, and vomit repulsive.  (Actually, baby poop I don't mind at all.  I find it incredibly satisfying to clean Little O's bum because then the smell magically disappears.  Eye gunk or nose bogeys, however, are a different story.  They make me gag.)  Anyway, seeing as I'm not mad keen on being a mad woman once a month, I've truly never minded suppressing my fertility with hormones.  It's always meant I either had lighter, regular periods, or none at all - and that suited me just fine.

Until now.

Now, I'm coming down from hormone usage.  I have been hormone-free for 14 days and the side effects are quite astonishing.  Assuming I'm not already pregnant (more on that in a minute), then I've been feeling my body literally moving itself back into a normal position and preparing itself for a monthly cycle once again.  It's fascinating, and not without its aches and pains.  I've been having the most dramatic mood swings you've ever seen; I've been sleeping during the day and not at night; I've had stomach aches, back aches and leg cramps; my boobs have been going up and down in size, sensitivity, shape, and texture - and they tingle; and I've felt my appetite decrease to such an extent that the thought of some of my old favourite foods (such as chilli), has made me queasy.  I've also, happily, begun to want to shag my husband again.  He's been most obliging.

The changes in my body over the last two weeks have been so dramatic that I think I'm going to have to check I'm not up the duff.  It's made difficult, however, by not having had that normal monthly cycle for the last ten years.  I've got absolutely no idea when I would have ovulated, or even if I'm likely to, or when the date of my last period was.  (Erm... October, maybe?)  I'm therefore completely baffled as to when I'm supposed to take a pregnancy test.  Yes, my husband and I have been having (semi) unprotected sex, but if the effects of Depo Provera take as long to wear off as they say they do... and if I don't know when or if I'm even ovulating... then taking a test too soon could give me a false negative result.  It's all tremendously disconcerting.

But I feel better about not taking any hormones anymore.  It feels good.  It feels right.  If my husband and I do conceive soon, then we're thinking about making a more permanent choice for contraception next time.  We're discussing vasectomies, tube-tying, IUDs... even donating an entire testicle to science (yes, it can be done.  There's a very famous university who does research into testicular diseases, and they offer thousands and thousands of dollars for healthy testicles from men under 35).  Whatever happens in the next few months though, I don't think I'm going to go through this hormone withdrawal again.  Using hormones was appropriate for me in the past, but I think I've reached a point in my life where I'm tired of bearing the sole responsibility for contraception in my relationship.  And I think after the last 15 months we've had, my husband is too.


Thursday, September 2, 2010

We'll call him Sam

I had a dream last night.

In it, I was nine months pregnant and in the throws of advanced labour.  I was alone in a bright, clean hospital room, and I could hear nurses and activity beyond my closed door.  I was wearing a hospital gown and I could feel my baby moving inside me when I put my hand on my stomach.

I moved off the bed because I was laying in a horizontal position, and I felt that my labour would last too long for me to bear if I didn't give it some help with gravity.  So I began to walk around the bed to the door, when I felt an enormous gush between my legs and my waters broke.  I launched myself forward and grabbed the nurses' buzzer to let them know what had happened, when my husband walked in and saw me squatting in a pool of pale yellow, almost clear, liquid.  A nurse finally arrived and sought the help of an orderly to clean up the mess, and I was moved back to the other side of the bed.

My husband and I were left alone, and I squatted down to see what he was up to on the floor (looked like he was making a shopping list on a cell phone), when I put a hand between my legs and felt the baby crowning.  Suddenly, my body took over and I pushed, once.  A small, slimy baby emerged from me and I pulled him up to my now naked chest to keep him warm.  I told my husband to help me hold him, and then I pushed the nurses' buzzer again three times.  Then I looked at my baby.  He was very small, like Little O was, but he had masses of dark hair and the biggest, bluest eyes.  He was very alert and kept looking around the room at all the bright lights.

The umbilical cord was still attached, but when the nurse came in she suggested we allow it to finish pulsing before clamping it, to allow all that precious oxygenated blood to flow into my new son's bloodstream.  He didn't cry, but was breathing and very happy.  Eventually someone took the baby from me and laid him on the bed, at which point I stood up and promptly delivered a very slimy placenta.  And lots of other goo and blood.

The next thing I knew we were at home, and I was introducing our new child to Little O.  Little O was the age he is now, even though I had been 'pregnant' for nine months.  I spent some time barking at my husband to get Little O's old newborn clothes out of storage, and then we dressed the baby in a blue sleepsuit with a hood attached.  We had to decide on a name, so I looked at our bookshelf for inspiration and finally settled on Sam.  Sam - from Samuel.


A friend from childhood sent me a Facebook message the other day telling me she'd had her own dream where I was pregnant.  Five months pregnant, apparently, and showing her my ultrasound video.

Is the universe trying to tell me something?