This is a marathon, little froggy

Just and update from yesterday's appointment: the culture came back negative.  Thank. God.  The infection itself is harmless when treated, but if it is recurrent it can slowly start to aggravate my cervix and cause contractions.  But today, in this moment, that isn't a problem.  Lots of decisions need to be made in the near future and many things can go wrong along the way, but today we had a small victory.

And now, because I can't stop thinking about frogs:

Must get this raincoat for Miranda.  Must parade her around the neighborhood. 

Images courtesy of Pinterest

Weekend Review and hello little froggy!

My weekend was wonderfully boring, which I love.  Tim had a bachelor party to go to on Saturday and I was feeling incredibly nauseous, so I took up residence on my couch and snuggled in with some fruit for dinner.  Later that night, I mentioned that I wanted a plain hamburger from McDonald's and low and behold, my husband came home early at 11:45 with a bag of McDonald's for me.  He snuggled in with me in bed instead of going to the next bar with the boys.  "What better way to spend a Saturday night than in bed with my wife?" he asked.  If that's not commitment, I don't know what is.

My Saturday night

As soon as I turned 8 weeks, I noticed that the pregnancy symptoms I had with Conner and Benjamin around 5 or 6 weeks were starting to manifest.  I'm not as nauseous as I was with them, but I'm definitely sticking to bland food now.  Pregnancy acne isn't awful, but I'm starting to notice it.  And the weirdest symptom I have ever had appeared over the weekend - my eyes hurt in the shower.  I can't even explain it... when I was pregnant with the boys, my eyes were sensitive when water hit my eyelids.  I was showering on Sunday and the same thing happened.  It was deja vu, but also weirdly soothing because I knew that any pregnancy symptom I had indicated that Baby C was still there.

On Sunday, Tim taught my niece how to properly kick a soccer ball and after ten minutes, she was a pro. I got to talk to my dad about my grandfather passing, which gave me a little peace. The rest of the day was spent couch surfing and contemplating what to have for dinner (salmon, rice, and veggies for me and Baby C, pasta and chicken for him).

Today I had my first ultrasound with my OB.  The ultrasound tech offered her sympathies about the boys.  I told her what happened and she was in shock.  She remembered my last ultrasound, saying that my uterus was high and closed and the boys were absolutely perfect. Lady, you have no idea how perfect.  I was almost in tears, but I was so glad that she wanted to talk about them.

And then little blobby was on the screen, with a perfect heart rate of 176 bpm.  Little blobby now looks like a flattened frog, so we are now calling him/her little froggy. The relief I felt when I saw that heartbeat is indescribable.  As soon as I heard it, I knew it was faster than last time.  Little froggy is squirming away and looks perfectly happy in its little squishy world.

A nurse I have never seen before took my history before the OB came in.  She asked me if this was my first pregnancy.  No, it wasn't.  It was my second pregnancy.  Did I having children at home?  No, I do not have children at home.  Were the boys a miscarriage or an abortion?

Fuck you, lady.  Read my chart. 

I was playing with my wedding rings and my ring I got for Mother's Day.  I didn't know how to respond to her.  Were those my only options?  They died, I said.  They were premature.  Oh.  How many weeks?  22.5 weeks.  Were they twins?  What gender were they?  How much did they weigh?

Cheese and rice.  She must be illiterate. 

Walking out the door, she poked her head back in the room and asked me if this was a singleton this time.  Yes.  She winked at me and said, "good."  GET OUT. 

I've never been so happy to have a nurse leave the room before.  My OB and I discussed a possible cerclage.  Ultimately, it is my decision.  We don't know if I need one, and placing one in if I don't need one is very risky (including a higher risk of infection, which is scary after losing babies to Chorioamnionitis).  But if I do need one... well, I better get one.  The big issue is that I had no symptoms of an incompetent cervix at all, but chorio and cervical incompetence often (but not always) coexist.  My MFM is also leaving this up to me.  I would go on and on about the pros and cons of the cerclage, but truth be told I am sick of thinking about it. I've been thinking about it since January and there are still no clear answers.  The few people I mentioned it to all seem to have opinions that I am not interested in, because they are neither doctors nor have they ever been in my position.  When did people start thinking they were qualified to give medical advice on things that they have never experienced themselves? And really, who wants to give medical advice?  I sure as hell don't.  I don't want that kind of responsibility.  Yet here I am... with a huge choice to make.  I have a little time to decide what to do.  Until then, I am hoping God gives me guidance on this.  Actually, I'm hoping he sends me a signed letter on what to do with this one.  I think it's incredibly unfair that I have to be in this position in the first place. My boys should be alive. Baby C should be waiting until next spring for a transfer and a safe pregnancy. 

Tomorrow I get my culture results.  We think the infection is back.  I'm trying my hardest to protect little froggy but this is proving itself to be very difficult.  

Can it be Saturday night again?  

Happy 8 weeks, blobby. I am freaking out

We are 8 weeks pregnant today, Baby C. Our MFM believes that if we make it to 10 weeks, we will be looking at a viable pregnancy. I have already decided to opt out of prenatal testing for you, like with Conner and Benjamin.  I haven't had it in me to take a belly picture yet.  It is too late to take a "before" picture - you are already starting to show.  Either that, or I am eating way too much, which is highly probable since you are not giving me any nausea.  Thanks, by the way.

I am freaking out. I am too scared to announce that you are making your appearance in just over 7 months.

People will treat you like you are my first baby.  You are my third.  I won't be having a baby shower, because I cannot stand the thought of people treating me like this is my first pregnancy.  They'll ask me questions and be all over my belly and I'll be thinking, "no one is asking me how it was with Conner and Ben."

People will think that I feel better now that you are coming.  Like now that I have you, I can stop grieving over your brothers.  They'll think, oh, now she will be having a real baby.  Well, screw them already.

They will think that since we were trying to get pregnant, we were obviously moving on with our lives.

I've been doing a lot of psychological research on subsequent pregnancies after loss, mostly because I am curious and also because it is part of my graduate research for my thesis project.  Women who get pregnant less than one year after their loss show signs of PTSD, clinical depression, and pathological anxiety.  So, it turns out that getting pregnant doesn't make you feel better. It makes you feel worse.

But, little blobby, I don't want you to think that I don't want you.  I love you already.  I'm going to try to be the mother I wanted to be to your brothers; the kind of mother that Conner and Ben could be proud of.  I just wish that I could have you and have your brothers, too.  Or, because I know I can't have that, I wish I could have you and have the people in our lives recognize that you are our third baby and not our first.

I know that I'm jumping the gun and assuming this is how people will act.  But we've learned a lot about how people think after we lost your brothers.  They asked if their memorial brought us closure (it didn't).  They said I would feel better if I had another baby (how the hell would they know?).  They never recognized me as a mother.  I'm like an eclipse.  They won't look directly at me.  People have called losing your brothers a miscarriage.  No.  They breathed and moved and made noises and I have their birth certificates and social security cards and I labored and all that shit for days and I gave birth to them.  People don't realize that your brothers lived. I guess they don't think those two and a half hours counted.  What is the cutoff, then?  Can someone tell me what counts as life?  Two hours? Two days?  Two weeks?

When we tell our friends and family about you, I want the same reaction we had with the boys - excited screaming, phone calls back to back, our phones blowing up with people offering their congratulations.  I have a feeling people will be more cautious this time.

Nevertheless, happy 8 weeks Baby C.  We are still anxiously awaiting your arrival.  Someday the world will know you are coming... whether that be in an announcement a few weeks from now, or whether that be through phone calls when I'm in labor.  I guess the only thing that is really important is that you know all about your brothers and you recognize the life they had in them as well as the lessons that they still have to teach us. I think that you'll be a better person because of them.

** I should probably add here that in no way do I want to minimize the impact of a miscarriage. The grief would overwhelm me, too. I simply feel that when people say I miscarried that they are not acknowledging what really happened.**

Weekend Review: 45 year anniversary of Apollo 11

Look, my weekend was incredibly boring.  It really isn't worth writing about.  The highlight of my weekend was choosing to eat cheese and crackers for dinner last night and watching The Last Ship with my husband.  I did get to visit my best friend who I've known for about 20 years and that was great, but I don't think you guys care about the gossip we shared and the food we ate. So, luckily there is something to write about that I love: yesterday was the 45th anniversary of the first moon landing. And by write about it, I mean post a crapload of pictures for you.  In another life, had I been male, good at math, and an excellent test pilot, I would have been an astronaut (although had I been alive in the 60's and early 70's I'd actually most likely be a bra-burning civil rights activist).  I heart you, NASA.

Love you to the moon and back, my sweet Conner and my dear Benjamin.

Pictures via Buzzfeed and NBC news

Hello, little blobby thing

Well, we had quite the scare today.  The nurse started with, "it's a girl, she's not cooperating."  We couldn't find the baby for like, 20 seconds but in my reality it took about 30 minutes.  I was sitting there thinking, ok, this is it, it's over.  No baby.  But then there s/he was, just a tiny bit bigger than on Monday, and according to Baby Center measuring about the size of a raspberry.

And then came the heartbeat, down to 127 from the 188 bpm it was on Monday. I could immediately tell the difference as soon as I heard it. The nurses told me not to worry and that the heartbeat fluctuates.  127 bpm is normal for 7 weeks pregnant.  But of course, I was freaking out again which prompted my nurse to stick the probe in me again and find the heartbeat for a second time to make me feel better.  All this medical science and technology in 2014, but the dildo probe has yet to be replaced with something thinner and less violating. But I shouldn't complain, because they can stick whatever they want in my hooha to check on my baby.

I went home to check out Conner and Ben's baby book.  At 5.5 weeks, their heartbeats were 110 and 109. At 7 weeks, they had jumped up to the 170's.  Great.  So my boys' heartbeats increased, and Baby C's has decreased.  I know they told me not to worry, but I've heard that before...

Nonetheless, little blobby was looking great.  I say blobby because that is all s/he looks like to me, although supposedly s/he is starting to look more like a baby and less like a tadpole.  When they checked the heartbeat the second time, heartbeat was 129 bpm.  A slight rise, but not much. While most people might not think twice about this, a baby loss mom never settles down. 

I saw my mom today. She is walking around better and starting to eat solid food again.  I was so happy, but I know that this is short lived with her chemo coming right around the corner again. 

I'm still struggling on when to announce this pregnancy.  I would really like to wait until the 16 week gender scan.  That is when I predict I will start showing, albeit slightly.  I didn't start showing much with the twins until around this time.  It would be fun to announce a gender with the pregnancy, and by then my mom will be completely done with chemo and this mess with my grandfather dying will be behind us.  But, I feel guilty since my brother now knows about the pregnancy along with my sister in law and well, all of you.  I feel like I kinda cheated my family and friends of knowing about Baby C.  So, I think that I'll just sleep on it.  One day, when I wake up and feel like it's the day to announce, I'll do it.  For now, since I'm ambivalent, I'm not going to think about it. I'm just going to sit here, eat a cheeseburger, and see what happens.

Have a great weekend!  Love, Krystal and little blobby

A little something to smile about

Last night, we found a new favorite show: The Last Ship.  I was skeptical at first, but then Eric Dane made his appearance.  Who can resist? And as soon as I saw him, Tim gave me shit for it.

Me: "Hey!  That's Dr. McSteamy from Grey's Anatomy!"

Tim: "Yeah I know.  He is so hot."

Me: ".....um...."

Tim: "And now he's in naval uniform.  How could you say no?"

I'm laughing my ass off, because even Tim is not taking his eyes off the screen.

Tim, seductively: "Aye, aye, captain."

He likes to give me a hard time.  So now if Eric Dane ever takes his shirt off on this show, I have to pretend like I'm not looking.

Also, I got offered a "sort of" job today.  I was working at my accountant's office on company stuff (when I do it, we save tons of money), and our accountant wanted to know if I wanted to work for them on a per project basis.  Basically, if they have a big project coming up they would call me and see if I wanted to give them a hand.  I could say yes, and come and go as I please.  Or I could just say nah, no thanks, but give me a call if you have another project later.  This works great because Tim and I were just talking about how I can't really commit myself to a scheduled job right now.  I have OB appointments, MFM appointments, RE appointments (for the next couple of weeks), grad school starting in 5 weeks, my mom is sick, morning sickness (more like "all day sickness") coming up, and of course, working part time for our construction company.  I tried working a full time job for years and my headed nearly exploded with all the other stuff I had going on.  So of course, the chance to work when I'm bored and I have free time is really appealing. I had a substitute teaching job where I could work at-will, but once we moved it got harder for me to commute to it.  I jumped on the offer from our accountant.

So, something small to look forward to.  It's a start!

Where are you, God?

So just when we think my mom is done with chemo, turns out she has 9 more weeks of toxic hell.

Also, my grandfather died.  No one has told my dad yet because of what is going on with my mom.

So, in 2014, Conner and Ben died, my mom got cancer, and my grandfather is gone.  We're not even done with this shitty year yet.

We were waiting until next week to tell our families about Baby C, since we thought my mom would be declared cancer free by then.  Nope.

We're probably going to keep this a secret until I am very, very pregnant.  Like around the anatomy scan.  I need my mom to be feeling better to tell her.  And she's going to be worried to high hell about me.  I can't tell her about this pregnancy now.

I really don't think God listens to anything I ask for.

Also, kinda trivial, but I had an allergic reaction to a freaky bug bite yesterday and now my leg is wrapped in an ace bandage with ice packs.

If I wasn't pregnant, I'd be downing some tequila right now.  But... at least I'm pregnant.

Weekend review and a heartbeat!

This weekend was a big giant blur.  It poured on Saturday, and since my dog is a terrified of getting wet she refused to get out of (our) bed and slept all day.  I can't complain much though, since all I wanted to do that day was catch up on old episodes of the O.C. and nap.

She looks hungover, but really this is her sleeping like she's possessed. 

On Sunday, we went looking at plots of land for our new house.  I guess that means I've given in to Tim's wishes and am letting him build the house.  The issue with this (among many) is that the plots of land that we love are all in subdivisions with very active HOAs.  Our favorite piece of land is one acre surrounded by trees and away from any busy streets.  But the HOA won't let us build a fence, which is a must-have for Miranda, who already finds a way to escape past our six-foot fence.  The minimum square footage for the first floor is 2,800 square feet, not including garages, and trucks cannot be parked in the driveway.  Roofs must be steep, which is fine but kind of a pain in the ass anyway.  Even the mailboxes must be the exact same throughout the neighborhood.  They have rules on what kind of pets you can have and how many you can have as well.  Basically, cats or dogs only, limited to two, and they can't be loud.  HAHAHA have they ever met dogs before???? My dog loses her shit when she sees a squirrel. 

Tim and I are middle-class people.  I drive a Toyota for crap's sake.  While we would probably be able to meet most of the requirements for the HOA, we would easily be the poorest people in the neighborhood.  I would really love to move into a neighborhood where we fit in, and more so a neighborhood where Baby "C" and any other baby we have can feel comfortable.  I want a neighborhood  where we can put up a playhouse and swingset in our yard without it getting approved by the HOA.  I want my dog to be able to bark like a normal animal if she's chasing a rabbit.  I guess it's time to keep looking. 

Goodbye, lot

But I guess the big news was this morning when we had an ultrasound for little Baby "C'.  I was nervous, especially given that I was still on antibiotics that increased risk for miscarriage.  But when we got there, our baby popped up on the screen and our nurse immediately found a heartbeat.  Baby "C" is going strong at 188 beats per minute.  Thank God.

When I first saw Conner and Benjamin on an ultrasound screen, I immediately knew they were boys.  It was just shy of 6 weeks, and we were looking for a heartbeat.  At this point, we thought it was only one baby because we had only found one sac the week before.  All of a sudden, there were two heartbeats!  I immediately started calling them my little guys.  I knew they were boys, especially after those little minions shocked us with two heartbeats.  I have never been right about the gender of a baby before until I had my own.  There was no way they were girls, I just knew it.

So, I have been waiting to see Baby "C' and hear the heartbeat.  Tim has been saying from the beginning that he thinks this baby is a girl.  I saw the baby.  I heard the heartbeat.  I think this baby is a girl, too.  I mean, I've been wrong more times than not so I wouldn't put much weight on it, but I have a feeling I'm going to be referring to this baby as a "she" from now on. 

Pretty fuzzy, but pretty beautiful

Next ultrasound is on Friday, then I get transferred to my OB.  Moving right along :)

6 months

So with everything going on with Baby C, I didn't post anything about Conner and Benjamin's six month birthday (yesterday, July 10th).  It has been the longest and the shortest six months of my life.  It has been six months since I last held my babies.  It has been six months of knowing my life will never be the same. At the same time, I am six months closer to seeing my babies again.

Their ashes sit on my nightstand, surrounded by Conner's giraffe and Benjamin's puppy.  Their urn has their blanket wrapped around it, decorated with construction symbols like helmets and hammers.  The nurses picked it out, and it was unknowingly perfect.  It was the blanket that was draped over them when they were walked out of the hospital to the funeral home.

Every morning, when I kiss their urn, I think of one of our last moments together in the hospital.

It is January 8th.  Or maybe it is the 9th.  The events in the hospital are all jumbled together. I am still pregnant. It is the middle of the night and Tim has been sleeping on the couch next to me, or at least he is trying to. The room is only illuminated with the light from the machines that are pumping various drugs and fluids into me, which seem to be beeping every 5 minutes.  I am laying on my back with a monitor strapped to my belly, which records my contractions that have slowed to every 3-5 minutes.  The nurse comes in, and I'm not sure why.  Maybe it is because the monitor needs to be moved.  Tim is now sitting on the edge of my bed.  I tell him that he should talk to the boys, because they can hear him.  I am desperate for him to get his time in with his boys.  I know he doesn't have much longer with them. He's trying not to cry as he tells the boys hello.  Then *boom* - one of the boys tries kicking the monitor off of my stomach.  I mean, this thing jumps up in the air.  They've never kicked so hard before. Tim sees it.  The nurse sees it.  My mouth is hanging open slightly.  We adjust the monitor to go back in place.  We are laughing quietly through our tears.

Happy six month birthday to the strongest little boys I know.  Mommy loves you both so much.

Update and maybe TMI

Thank you to everyone who took the time to research things for me, pray, and put up with my insanity yesterday.  Now that I've calmed down (kinda.  not really.), I think I can explain a little more what happened yesterday and why this is such a big deal for me.

My doctors can't say for sure why I lost Conner and Benjamin; it could be due to an incompetent cervix that led to an infection, or just an infection.  The popular opinion that they all feel very strongly about is that I had an infection that made it's way into my uterus and caused me to go into labor.  This could have been from normal bacteria that is just not supposed to be in the uterus.  I could have also had BV, which is normal in pregnant women because of the changes in hormones.  It could have been asymptomatic, and left untreated caused me to go into labor.

So imagine how it felt when they called me to let me know that I had BV.  Typical protocol is to let pregnant women in their first trimester ride it out, since the body usually gets rid of it on its own.  However, given my history, it had to be treated right away.  This meant the use of antibiotics that are typically not given until the second trimester, or at the very earliest, 11 weeks.

My OB explained to me that the most harmful time to take these antibiotics is between 6 and 10 weeks.  I am 6 weeks pregnant today (coincidentally, it is also Conner and Benjamin's 6 month birthday today).  He put me on the safest antibiotic he could and gave me a cream instead of oral antibiotics, which flood the bloodstream and are more toxic to the baby.  He was overly concerned that I had an infection this early in pregnancy, especially after what happened with the boys.  While he was happy to see me pregnant, I'm not sure if I have ever seen that look of worry on his face before.

I also had to talk to my RE and discuss the risks of this infection.  It is possible that I had this infection during embryo transfer and the bacteria followed the embryo into the uterus.  My RE believes that if this had happened, I wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place and I would be in the hospital, deathly sick.  However, my MFM believes that I could have lost Conner and Ben due to a low lying infection that followed the babies into the uterus on the day of embryo transfer.  So yes, there is a chance that I might lose this baby again in the second trimester.  We just won't know until we get there.

After speaking to my nurse at the clinic and to my OB, we have decided to transfer my care to my OB early after we have established fetal heartbeat, which should be on Monday.  Typically, the release does not happen until 10 or 12 weeks but I am free to go whenever I feel comfortable.  I would like to get the fuck out of my clinic, especially after they kept telling me my symptoms were "normal" and that I could wait a couple weeks to get all this checked out.

This is why we all need to be advocates for our babies and for our own health.  I went over their heads and saw my OB, even though I had not been released to his care yet.

My OB will be repeating cultures frequently even when I am asymptomatic (as I was asymptomatic with the infection that took Conner and Benjamin).  Thankfully, I have an OB that has stated that they are going to be as aggressive as possible so that I do not lose another baby.

So, in a nutshell, these are the concerns:

1. That I had an infection for weeks but did not know it; bacteria then traveled with the embryo on transfer day and will lead me to lose a baby later in the second trimester once the bacteria has grown out of control. We can test this with amniocentesis, but it might not show up in the test. 
2. That I will have recurring BV, which is a cause of premature labor.  I seem to be susceptible to varying levels of PH which means that I may be more susceptible for infections recurring. 
3. That the antibiotics I am using this early will cause developmental damage to Baby C. 
4. That the antibiotics I am using will actually cause a miscarriage. 

I trust my doctor and I know that it is in the baby's best interest to treat aggressively. While I know women treat infections during pregnancy all the time without issues, my case is a little fragile.  Well, very fragile.  My body hates me, and right now, I'm not too happy with it either. 

I can't stop rubbing my belly and telling Baby C that s/he needs to keep growing and needs to come home with us.  But that is an awful lot of pressure to put on a little baby. 

Bad news

I have a bacterial infection.

It could be the same infection that caused me to lose Conner and Benjamin.

They have to put me on antibiotics, which are routinely not given to pregnant mothers until after the first trimester.

But I need to take them now, given my history.

So I could lose this baby due to infection, or something can be horribly wrong with the baby because of the medication that they are putting me on.

I probably won't be posting for awhile.  I think I've just about given up on trying to have a healthy baby.

Weekend Review: extended version, Thursday-Monday

Welp, it's been awhile since I last posted.  I was waiting until this insane weekend was over, plus I wanted to wait to post until this blog went private.  By the way... thank you to everyone still reading.  I know by going private, it is not as easy to view this blog, and it really means so much to me that you are all still here.

A dear friend of mine, who lost her baby girl not long after I lost Conner and Ben, released sky lanterns right before the 4th of July.  Coincidentally, Tim and I were talking about releasing sky lanterns for the boys up where we took our pregnancy announcement photos.  Ultimately, we decided not to since it was a very wooded area and I didn't want the fire marshall to come chasing after me.  My friend was releasing a lantern for Claire, and she asked if she could release two for my boys.  As I'm typing this, I'm holding back tears from being so moved.

Ben and Conner's lanterns drifting away

This past weekend marked what I like to call "Idiots with Explosives" weekend.  I mean, I love our country (my favorite subject to teach is probably US History), but I'm pretty shocked that no one blew up my house this weekend.  Fireworks are illegal to sell and purchase in Illinois, but we live so close to Indiana that any idiot with $20 can equip themselves with deadly weapons.  I understand that some people can be careful and cautious with fireworks, but most people... I wouldn't give them a license to light a box of matches, much less explosives.  Thank God for the U.S. of A and thank God we are still alive. 

Also big news this weekend (to me, anyway): Jessica Simpson finally married the guy she had two babies with.  After something like 17 years of engagement, they finally tied the knot.  Okay, it was really like four years, but it felt like 17.  But now that this has happened, I guess there really is no chance at a Jessica Simpson/Nick Lachey reunion. I mean, I guess that was out the window when they got divorced... and when Nick got remarried... and when Nick had a baby... and Jessica had two babies in practically the same gestation period... 

Yesterday we went house hunting with our realtor.  Of course, I was in love with the new builds and naturally, Tim is hell bent on building our next house himself.  He told me he would get too much crap from his friends if someone else built our house and he is insisting that we will save money if we build ourselves.  That is great and all, but we built our first house and we completely renovated the inside of our second (current) home.  Do I really want to go through all that again?  Eh, not really, but it is the only way to get our dream home for the price we are budgeted for.  I guess we're looking for lots now!  Just imagine one of these houses with a full walk-out basement:

Walk out basement 

pictures and floorplans via dreamhomesource.com

Oh and by the way, our little Baby C is somewhere in that little black dot down there.  We'll hear a heartbeat on Monday :)

Just a reminder...

I will be making this blog private.  Please comment me with your email address or send me your email through the contact form at the end of the page.  **If you have already said you would like to follow but have forgotten to leave your email address, please send it to me ASAP.*** I started this blog as a way to tell my boys' story and help other loss moms through their grief.  However, it is becoming apparent that my blog is being shared with people who this is not meant for.  We have not shared our journey through infertility with friends or family. This blog will go private on Friday, July 4th.  Thank you.

Beta is...

885.3!  It more than doubled. Baby C is a strong little polar bear warrior.  First ultrasound is on Monday.  I'm not sure if we will get a heartbeat or not by then.  We heard Conner and Benjamin's heartbeats just shy of 6 weeks, so Monday will be a toss up.  But who cares?!  THERE'S A BABY ON THE WAY!

Tim is betting that this baby is a girl.  We are completely out of boy's names so if this is a boy it's going to be named after a sandwich or something because I guarantee I won't be able to find a name I like.