So much to do, so little time...

Please don't read this if you don't want to. This isn't necessarily a post for anyone else but me. But you are more than welcome to read it. It's sad and about my two failed pregnancies and a little about Nick's wonderful Dad.

May 28, 2007 was one of the hardest days of my life. And I didn't even know it at first.

Nick and I made the decision in March/April of 2007 to be open to the idea of starting a family. We weren't going to necessarily try to get pregnant, but we would be thrilled if I did get pregnant. Wouldn't you know it, I got pregnant on "accident" in April. By the middle of May I had suspected I was pregnant but didn't know for sure. I had been training and running a lot that Spring and Nick and I were schedule to run a 10K on May 28, Memorial Day. Since I'd been running, I went ahead and was still planning on running. Sunday night, May 27, I started getting really bad pains in my lower back and side of my body. Shooting pains. Then I started having bad cramps. I couldn't breathe and my back hurt so bad that I finally slept on the hard wood floor curled in a ball. Nick kept asking if I was ok and if he could do anything. But there was nothing to do.

I had read a lot (I love reading if you didn't know that already) about pregnancy and warning signs and I knew that pains and cramps could be normal but could also be very bad. I knew that my pains were very bad.

I spent the whole night on the floor crying in pain.

The next morning, I felt a little better so I decided to go ahead and run. Why? I don't know. I guess because I wanted to pretend nothing had happened. I was still having pains, but I tried not to think about it.

We drove to University City, where the 10K was being held and we got ready to run. The beginning wasn't so bad. Once I got into a rhythm I did ok. For the first few miles. I had told myself that I wanted to run the whole thing and not walk any of it, so I kept running. The further I got into the run, the more pain I felt. But I kept running.

I was the last to finish out of my sister, her husband, Nick and myself. But I ran it all. It seemed to take forever but I did it. I was proud of myself and for the time being, I felt pretty good. No more serious pains. They had faded to a dull ache by that point.

We decided to go and get breakfast after the race. The four of us drove to Chris' Pancake House and got some breakfast. I was on a health kick and I remember everyone else got bacon and sausage and eggs and pancakes and whatever else. I got a fruit plate. I don't think I took 4 bites. The pains came back. I had to leave. I needed to go home. When we finally finished and we ready to go, my stomach hurt so bad that I had to double over to keep the pain down.

Nick and I got home and I ran straight to the bathroom. There was blood. A lot of blood. And blood clots. It was so scary and horrible that all I did was hit the floor and started crying. Nick came in and saw everything and just sat with me. I don't know how long I cried on the floor.

We went to my parent's house later that day to swim. To try and relax after the long run. I spent 10 minutes in the pool and the rest locked up in a bedroom at their house.

I decided I better go to the doctor. After all, I hadn't been sure I was pregnant. I just suspected it. Maybe this was something else. Maybe this was all a coincidence and I was pregnant.

The doctor asked me a bunch of questions and did a blood test. Every office is different, but when a doctor takes your blood and tests for pregnancy it's called a beta test and the number that comes back tells you if you are pregnant. Most offices don't consider a person pregnant unless the number is over 10 or 20. Just to compare, when I was pregnant with Dom, my beta was 73 thirteen days after our IUI. That first week of June, my beta was 15.

So I was pregnant. But not anymore.

I can't believe that was 2 years ago today. It's amazing how much can change in such a short period of time. Last year around this time I was telling my girlfriends that I was pregnant! And this year at this time I had a four month old son.

It's amazing. Life is good again. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason and I had to have that miscarriage to learn something about myself. I learned to never take anything for granted. That having a child isn't easy, but if you want it badly enough you should stick with it and devote everything you can to that child. Dominick means the world to me. He is my miracle baby.

Some of you know that I had a second miscarriage in March of 2008. That was a horrible time too. For many reasons. That miscarriage happened in Las Vegas. I had my first positive pregnancy test about a week before that trip and I was so excited. But the tests were very faded and didn't show a good positive. I kept taking tests and the positive lines were getting lighter and lighter. I started spotting the day we got to Vegas. I was sad but tried to keep upbeat. I took another test when we got to Vegas. It was negative. I thought maybe it was a fluke, so I took another test. Another negative. I was very sad. March 22, in the morning, I woke up to blood. Again. I was so depressed. But it was nothing compared to the phone call we got. That morning, Nick's dad passed away. He had a heart attack. It was so unexpected and horrible that I couldn't think of anything else but Nick's dad and being strong for Nick. We took a flight home that day (a day early) to be with Nick's family and be home for Easter).

I went to the doctor that week and my beta was 11. Another failed pregnancy.

I tell you this story here because I think Nick's dad was a huge part of how we got pregnant. Obviously we were having issues becoming pregnant, but with Nick's dad's help, we got Dominick.

I'm very sad that Nick's dad never got to meet Dominick. But Dominick will know him. And know that his Papi is a big part of why he is here.

I'm so sorry for this long post, especially a sad one. I hope no one read it who didn't want to. It feels good to reminisce about all this though. The good and the bad.