The face of this blog may have changed, a forced remodel in hopes to inspire creativity, not that Noah growing up wasn’t enough to motivate us.  I guess, life just took ahold and consumed 5 months of all of our lives, leaving you with little trace of our familial experiences, other than a few post-dated reminders that we are still alive and kicking.  We’ve had our discussions since then, about the meaning of this blog, and while it may have initiated from a genuine excitement of our first expectancy and the miraculous journey that ensued, we realize there is much more to this family than the toddler who has captivated our hearts.  So today is not a story about Noah.  Today is about me.

I returned home today from a quick getaway weekend alone with the hubs to celebrate an impending second…a second what, you ask?  Forgive me if the story is moving backwards, but I have only been running my memories in reverse for the past 72 hours.  Let me try another beginning.

A week and a half ago, Jon and I were elated (and nervous) to discover that I was expecting another baby once again.  What would another child do to our already hectic lives?  Could our lives get any more complicated than it already is?  How have other working parents survived with two and how were we going to afford daycare?  Eating out, I witnessed multi-child family units functioning perfectly well all over the place.  Out in the parking lot, they were piling into their mini-vans, occupying all three rows of seats.  Reading up online, it was just a matter of readjusting with the firstborn to get acquainted with a new…dynamic.  If only it were that simple.

Noah got a case of Roseola last week and while we sat in the pediatrician’s office, Noah watched Nemo and played with toy trains, while I  snuck peeks at a stressed-out mother struggling with her disabled child’s flailing arms and shrieking cries.  Needless to say, this added it’s share of worry to my already burgeoning plate.  I couldn’t get over the comment I once read in a mommy magazine about “each new child introducing it’s own share of risk to the existing family dynamic.” Perfect.

Aside from our fears and worry, I could hardly contain my excitement.  We found out so early this time, and the secret was just burning a hole in my tongue!  I know from the first time, an expectant parent never unleashes the news until after the 12th week, but by that time, I figured I’d already be showing.  I was booking vacations, planning out things I had months to figure out, getting Noah ready for baby, researching pregnancy calendars all over again…but none of this was enough.  Maybe I was waiting for a reaction?  After all, I actually missed being pregnant the first time.  I whispered it to my Mom, but told her it was still very early and we would hold on until the 2nd trimester to get excited.  She actually listened and kept hush about it.  But finally, I broke down and told people at work.  Not just a select few, but more of a mass announcement in a spur-of-the-moment decision.  And I pretty much regretted it as soon as I did, feeling like I had just blurted a magic curse out loud (into a megaphone, no less).

So, Friday came along, as did our mini-vacation to celebrate, while Noah spent it with his grandparents.  Well, I don’t want to bore you with all the details of our laborious car ride in traffic to San Diego, our fancy boutique hotel in the Gaslamp Quarter, our free Film Festival passes, or any of that.  Instead, our trip began with a few spots.  A spot here, a spot there, and the next thing you know, I’m cramping and curled up on our king sized bed…well, not knowing who actually reads this blog, I’ll spare you from the bloody details.  So much for an impending second.  This was an impending miscarriage, and there was nothing I could do about it.  Nature was going to take it’s mysterious course, as it does with every woman’s labor, as it does with life and death.  So guess what?  I got fabulous.  I dressed up, donned my heels and we went out like nothing ever happened (apart from the back pain and cramps, that is).

So emotionally, I was not sure what to do.  I knew from research, this has a 1 in 5 chance of occurring.  Especially so in the first 6 or 7 weeks, which is where I was at.   We have a perfectly healthy beautiful toddler at home.  I couldn’t be happier.  Genetically, this is nature’s selection and it’s for the best.  Better now than later.  It didn’t stop me from having a good time that night.  A romantic dinner and an indie movie.  But it didn’t stop me from crying myself to sleep either.  Miscarriage (ugh, what a terrible word, but it beats Spontaneous Abortion, doesn’t it?) has a way of making you feel incredibly inadequate, whether you like it or not.

The next day our friends came by our hotel and congratulated us with a wonderful bottle of champagne, to which we had to break the unfortunate news.  An awkward moment passed, but then we realized, this pregnant woman can actually DRINK the champagne!  And Vegas will be ten times more fun next month not having to worry about second hand smoke and abstaining from alcohol!  And the vacation I had planned for my 18th week of pregnancy will now be so much LESS debilitating, now that I’m not carrying EXTRA cargo!  So, having gone through a dry run of our second, I now realize how much I need to be grateful for today and every moment in it, because tomorrow will always change.  No matter what.