name that recipe!

I'm still stuck in the waiting game around here. It's impossible to keep my mind from wandering to pregnancy. I'm not feeling anything yet, but it's only been a week. Patience! We have also been waiting on edge for a possible change with my husband's job. It would be a wonderful change for our family, so we are hoping it works out.

In the meantime I'm going to share a recipe that we just tried out for the first time not long ago. It was very tasty. The problem is, that I'm not sure what to call it! Any ideas?

Italian Rice Patties?

Spinach and Rice Bake?

Fred?

Help me name this recipe!

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Oh, and I apologize ahead of time for the pictures. They were taken at night. That explains the lack of natural light. I also didn't haul off to retrieve my truly wonderful flash, so the I was stuck with the kitchen lights. They make the food look a bit, ummmm.... yellow. You know, like in cookbooks from the 60's and 70's? What was up with that? How could people ever find anything appetizing from the looks of those horrible pictures? Anway... I'll stop rambling now and make good on my promise. Here's a tasty recipe. That doesn't have a name. It's sad really. Just sayin'. I'm glad we could share this moment.

Ingredients:

- 2 tsp oil

- 1/2 Cup of chopped onion

- 2 cloves of garlic

- 1 box (10 oz) frozen leaf spinach - thawed and chopped (I used fresh since that's what I had on hand and it worked just fine)

- 2 1/4 Cups water

- 1 cup long grain rice (I used brown rice)

- 1/2 Cup grated parmasean cheese

- 1/4 tsp of pepper (I think I used a bit more. Pepper is yummy!)

- 1 large egg

- 2 oz of shredded mozzarella

- 2 cups spaghetti sauce (we used 1/2 a jar)

I'm a bit of a free spirit when it comes to recipes. I'll do my best here!

Heat the oil in your skillet. Saute your onion and garlic a bit.

Then add the spinach and water and bring it to a boil.

Stir in the rice. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes until the water is absorbed.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees and line a baking sheet with foil. Spray the foil with non-stick spray (so do I list non-stick cooking spray in my ingredients? I'm out of practice here!)

Transfer your rice mixture into a bowl and stir in the parmasean and pepper.

Then mix in the egg.

Scoop out the mixture and spoon onto the baking sheet. I made them approximately hamburger sized or maybe a bit smaller.

Flatten each scoop slightly with your spoon to help it look more like a patty. Like this:

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Bake for 20 minutes until they seem firm.

Then sprinkle on the mozzarella cheese and put it back into the oven until it melts.

Serve with spaghetti sauce on top like in the picture or you can adapt it for a toddler by cutting the patty into quarters or halves and providing the sauce for dipping. Yummy!

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Come on, baby!

Another month of fertility treatments is complete. Last week I had to ask my husband to give me the shot again. There is some kind of self preservation instinct that kicks in when it's time to give yourself a shot. It renders my arm frozen. My brain can't make my hand move, so my husband has to save the day. Seems he has no trouble stabbing me with that needle!
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Saturday was our big day. The nurse assured me that everything looked good, so it's now up to God and fate. Our life feels like it has been full of pills and shots (well, at least mine has. Not so much for him!), so we're hoping to put that behind us soon! If this month doesn't take, we'll be taking a month off. I figured the time to recover from the medical bills would be good. I'd also like to avoid a Christmas due date if I can help it, so we plan to hold off a bit after this. Two weeks always feels like an eternity, but that's how long we'll have to wait before we can find out of this worked. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was gagging while brushing my teeth after about a week, so I'll be watching for little signs while trying not to drive myself nuts in the process!
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In the meantime, we'll have to talk about other things to distract me. Take a look at this picture...

Does it look good? I'm curious to find out if this looks like something other people would want to eat. It is something I started eating in college, and it is a favorite around here! Wheat toast, mayo, garlic & pepper seasoning, and cold spaghetti. Voila! Spaghetti sandwich! What a great way to use leftovers in a creative way! If anyone tries it, let me know what you think!

Dinner Conversation

A conversation from our table tonight:

Me: "Is that good peanut butter?"

Her: "Mmmm hmmm. (pause) It's not orange-y."

Me: "Nope, peanut butter isn't orange-y."

Her: "Oranges are."

Me: "Yes, sweetie. Oranges are orange-y."

I just love how kids' brains work!

Our Little Girl

Our toddler loves music. I'll admit that we haven't really given her a choice! We dance a little bit every day. When I turn on the Rolling Stones, she tells me that she would rather hear The Beatles. I can't really argue with that! She also makes up songs. When I ask her if she made them up, she corrects me. "No, that's John Wennon!"

Our toddler loves peanut butter. She likes to peel apart her PB&J, drag her fingers through the peanut butter, and lick them. (although her mommy doesn't really like that!) We even put peanut butter on her waffles. She likes to take the empty peanut butter jar she plays with and make hundreds of pretend peanut butter sandwiches.

Our toddler loves dolls. She calls them her "babies." She is constantly changing them, feeding them, wrapping them up, and pushing them around in the stroller. They are always either sleeping, crying, or going potty. Maybe she takes her cues from her own favorite activities! She insists that we dress her babies so she can proceed to undress them, and then beg us to dress them up again.

Our toddler loves drama. She loves to practice pouts, frowns, sighs, cries, and ignoring us. She is very sensitive and often erupts into unexpected and long bouts of crying. If our words are too stern, she melts into a puddle on the floor. She is very independent and seems to enjoy fighting with us. I know she is just asserting her independence and that's all part of growing up. It doesn't make it any easier though. Is it too early to worry about the teen years?

Our toddler is amazing. She is my miracle. It took me more than 2 years of trying to get her here, so I can't help but remember how truly thankful I am that she's here. She's the best... you know, at least we think so!

The Mom Club

Being a mom is like being in a private club.

I walked in to the doctor today to have one of my many ultrasounds done for my fertility treatments. As I climbed the stairs, I passed a mom on the landing. She was holding an infant carrier and negotiating with her toddler who was standing at the top of the stairs. Her little girl was pitching quite a fit. She didn't want to walk down the stairs alone. Her mother was already down, and was trying to juggle the infant along with the various accessories infants come with. I walked past with the usual detachment of a stranger as I headed to my waiting room, but then I paused. I could still hear the little girl fussing. That's when it happened. The mom in me woke up.

Moms should really have a uniform. It should be like it is in the Superman movies. Just imagine: moms have "mom moments," turn around in slow motion, and they are magically wearing their suit, complete with cape. Don't forget a little skirt around the waist to hide the hips, of course.

The scene this morning caused me to turn around in my tracks, and walk back to the little girl. As I approached, I talked to the other mom. "Look, I couldn't just walk by without helping! I have a 2 year old daughter, and I know how it is some days. You have a baby too, so I can't even imagine how hard that is! Let me give you a hand!" I approached her little girl, helped her on the first step, and that's all she needed to get her going. With a quick "thank you" from the other mom, I was back on my way to my appointment - turning around slowly, mom uniform magically turning back into jeans and Rolling Stones shirt.

There's something about having a toddler that makes you relate to other moms of toddlers in a really unique way. I'm finding my little 2 year old to be such a challenge, that I think I even look for those little chances to share the experience with someone who understands. I hope this blog will continue to let us moms find one another and share. I need all of you!

The rest of my day was a blur of cooking, shopping, laundry, and kid-wrangling. I have written my next several blogs in my head, and I hope to get them down this week. Expect recipes, pictures, and fertility updates. I'll know more after my next appointment on Wednesday. Fingers crossed! Oh, and I can't forget to mention that my recent posts about my son have gotten the wheels turning for me. The response I have already gotten from those posts has been great. I want to find more ways to meet other moms dealing with losses. I have a few ideas. Maybe I've found a calling?!

Angel Boy - Part 5

Welcome, baby.

Here it is. End of story. Lots to say. How can I sum up such a life-changing thing?

We made arrangements to go to the hospital to be induced. I shared the details of our situation and plan with my parents and I let it trickle down from there. I was tired of the story. I didn't want to tell it over and over. It was just easier to let my parents tell the extended family. By 20 weeks, everyone knew. Something had to be said. Because my parents are totally supportive of what I do, they also spared details in many cases. I was unsure what people would say. I was afraid of being judged. I needed to be surrounded by nothing but support at such a difficult time.

We showed up at the hospital for what we thought would be an overnight stay. We were admitted to the maternity ward and set up in a labor and delivery room. They wasted no time in starting treatments and medications to start my labor. We waited and waited. Nothing was happening. As I lay there awake that night I could hear other mothers yelling in pain as they experienced labor. Inevitably I'd hear the tender cries of their newborns. It was heartbreaking.

In addition to the emotional turmoil, the comfort of the bed left something to be desired. I had never been in a hospital before, so I didn't realize that I wasn't in a normal bed. The beds in labor and delivery are hard with sections that drop away for various positioning of the mother. I would compare the comfort level to the table in a chiropractic office with a bed sheet on it. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep. It made a long night longer.

It seemed that nothing they did was starting my labor. I won't go into detail to spare my readers the in-depth explanations of various activities involving doctors, medical equipment, drugs, and female parts! I just never imagined it would take so long. In the afternoon on that second day, I couldn't take it anymore. We begged various doctors to let us go. We never doubted our decision, but we wanted a night to rest in our own home before trying it all again. I wasn't in labor, so I reasoned that I could walk away and try to go back in a few days. They finally agreed, and I was discharged home with an appointment to come back in a couple of days to be admitted once again.

We made the journey home and I tried to get comfortable. I got into bed. Nope. I got in the tub. Nope. I couldn't sit. I couldn't lie down. I couldn't stand. The only way I can describe it is to say that my body felt "wrong." I couldn't get comfortable in my skin. Maybe it was emotional. Maybe I just felt I had the inevitable outcome hanging over me. Maybe it was their efforts to begin my labor that upset something physically. I'll never know. I just discovered that there was no turning back. We phoned the hospital, they made plans to take us back in, and we headed back that night to stay for good.

Luckily, this time they put us in a regular room where moms go after delivery. The bed was more like a regular mattress, so it was one small comfort for us. (I can't speak for my husband who was camped out on the pull out bed. I'm sure he wasn't comfortable that whole time.) That night turned into the next day. That day turned into night again. Slowly labor became more intense. Since our little boy was brain dead, I was able to take some slightly stronger medications by I.V. for the pain. I was managing some sleep that 3rd night of our stay when I woke up suddenly. It was time. I'm not sure how I knew, but I knew. I needed to push, so we buzzed the nurse.

She came in and confirmed that it was ok to push. I doubt I was dilated the normal amount, but our little one was small, so I don't think it mattered. I didn't push long - maybe less than 10 minutes before he arrived. To say that I was terrified is an understatement. What would he look like? Would he move or make noise? No one had prepared me. My husband is a trooper, so he watched the birth, and was helping to coach me through it. He told me that there was no movement. We were sure he had passed during the labor. Doctors had told me that any pressure to his head was likely to prove too traumatic, so I expected his passing. I couldn't look. I was scared.

My husband again assured me that it was ok. He told me that I needed to look. He was right. I will again spare details. I have only shared one picture of our son (and just his feet) because I think that the image of such a small baby is something that you don't need to see if you didn't live it. It's very sad to have that picture in your mind. I will say that he looked perfect apart from the fact that he was extremely small, and his fingers were connected to one another. This was the only external manifestation of his chromosomal abnormalities. He weighed just 6 oz. and was only 9 1/2 inches long. We cuddled him up in a blue blanket and marveled at his tiny, adorable chin.

We called in the hospital minister who was going to baptize him. My husband noticed that he was obviously startled when he saw our son. It was literally his first night on the job, and I don't think he was quite prepared for all of the things you can encounter in a hospital. He immediately collected himself and blessed our little boy who we named Noah. (again, not a revelation for those who are watching the tags on my posts!) We chose his name because it meant "peaceful, restful, comfort." We felt it was fitting prior to his birth, but even more so when we saw how peaceful he looked.

Our next visitor was a true blessing. We were connected with her through the hospital. She is a local photographer who lost a baby in a similar situation. She now donates her time and services photographing babies for other people in these circumstances. She was so wonderfully comforting and understanding. She took Noah into the bathroom in his hospital bassinet and positioned him in his blanket for a handful of precious portraits. She also took a few photos of us holding him. As hard as it is, I was told I'd want photos. I'm so eternally thankful that I was given that advice. It isn't often, but sometimes I look back at them. Having a memory of this little boy who was so important in our lives has proven invaluable to me. She took our information and mailed us a nice little album of prints along with a cd of the photos. We never even paid her. She's amazing.

We had made plans to cremate our Noah and have his ashes scattered. When we had said our goodbyes, he left our room. He had left our care long before. We had given his life to God. He was home. I felt relieved for him. As selfish as it may sound, I was relieved for us too. We could begin healing.

The next morning we were discharged home, 4 days and 3 nights after we first checked in. It's an empty feeling going home after something like that without a baby. We sat at home wondering what to do next. I discovered that since I had delivered a baby, I was entitled to a maternity leave. I didn't take the whole thing. Eventually I just needed my life to begin again, but the few weeks I did use were good for me.

What I did discover in this experience is that my husband and I have a marriage that can handle stress. I discovered that he's an amazing source of strength and comfort for me. I also found out that I was stronger than I imagined. It is really true what they say about challenges in life. We get through things because we have no choice, and we will emerge much stronger on the other side. I faced my political views on abortion and became more definitively pro-choice than I had been before. People often have an unfair picture of women who get abortions. I wasn't unwed, irresponsible, flippant, or using abortion as a means of birth control. In fact, I think it's even difficult to use the word "abortion" to describe what I did because it's more like a miscarriage. Regardless, the law is dangerously close to stepping in on parents facing this horrible situation, and I wanted to get the word out that choice is necessary because of women like me. Finally, I learned a lot about my belief in God. I prayed on my decision a lot, and in the end I feel that God led me through it. Four years later, I am willing to share my story because I know I'm ok with God. I no longer fear being judged by people because I know He is the only judge I should concern myself with.

I am wiping away tears as I finish this post. Reliving this has been intense for me. I am happy to finally put it out there for others to read. It has been cathartic.

Now... what I do know is that just more than a year after our little Noah left us, we were blessed with his beautiful sister. What I also know is that God gave us Noah for a reason. My job is to use the experience to make his life count, and I do that every day. We were given a tough, strong minded little girl. We're talking about 10 months of colic. Colic doesn't even cover it. She sometimes screamed for 6-8 hours a day... for about 10 months. I'm not kidding. Since then she has proven to be a sensitive and stubborn girl! Because we were blessed with our Noah, I can stop during a tantrum and remember that these fits are wonderful! My daughter is here with us! I will never forget that so many moms would love nothing more than to be fighting a two year old or comforting a screaming baby. I would have loved to face colic instead of losing my son. I am convinced that if I can get anything from the loss of Noah, it's that God sent him before our little girl to help us survive her toughest moments. I have always been a pessimist, but I have been much more able to put life into perspective since his birth. I learned that things can always be worse.

Noah's life counted. He continues on because he changed us in his short time with our family. That makes me happy.

Stay tuned for blogs on life since Noah. Our household is busy with fertility treatments and disappointments, toddler musings and misbehavior, and busy days peppered with moments of serenity. There's never a dull moment! Well... almost never. As I write this, I'm sitting on my couch wearing sweats and listening to oldies with my cat. Not exactly the stuff blogs are made of! Good night!

Birthday

Happy birthday today to my first born. Four years ago today I was trying to rest in a hospital after my little boy was born. I have one box from that day. It contains a few photos, some sympathy cards, and one blue blanket. I looked at it on the shelf today and remembered. We've come a long way since that day, but I'll never forget the experience. I wouldn't be the person I am today had I not gone through it.

The final chapter in the story will come this week. I had intended to post it today, but I was sidetracked by a sick toddler. Life truly does go on!

Angel Boy - Part 4

My story left off as we awaited the results of tests on my amniotic fluid. A few days passed, and we were anxious to hear what the exact diagnosis of our baby would turn out to be. During that time we had to make our big decision about what we would do next.

I felt empty. I had two paths in front of me. One path was an uncertain road. According to the doctor, this baby wouldn't survive. It was only a matter of time before life would leave this child. We were just waiting for it to happen. That was the most horrible feeling. It's something I can't effectively describe here. What if we did nothing and waited? I had visions of having a constantly sick feeling for an indefinite period of time. I would never be able to stop wondering when it would happen. People would continue ask me about my pregnancy. Strangers would put their hands on my belly or ask me when I was due, and I would have to put on a smile and pretend it was ok. The idea of traveling this path was horrifying to me.

My other path as described by my physician would involve being induced and having the baby right away. The baby would certainly pass away at some point during the labor and delivery, and we would say our goodbyes. As we talked about this path, my doctor told me that if we wanted to go down this road, we had to decide very quickly because our state's laws would prohibit us from continuing with this if we waited much longer, although she did say that there are exceptions if a person's doctor writes a medical explanation about it. I was completely caught off guard by this. Here I was in the most difficult situation of my life. In a matter of days we had gone from expecting a healthy addition to our family to facing huge decisions about our horrible diagnosis and there were people in suits at a meeting somewhere who had already decided for me?! Now I was being rushed by lawmakers to take action because of their limits on me. How is that possible? It added insult to injury for me. My husband and I had some real decisions to make, and we were under the gun to make them.

In just a few days we were given the results of our final tests. They had done a full genetic analysis and we had our diagnosis. If you haven't noticed it yet in the tags on my posts, it was called Triploidy. The previous guess on our baby was a triplet of one chromosome as is the case with Trisomy disorders. We found out that it was much worse than that. Triploidy is when there are three of every chromosome rather than the normal pairs of two. The consequences of this are dramatic. Every cell in the body is affected. Typically these pregnancies miscarry in the first 8-10 weeks. When you do make it past that point, the chances of the baby surviving the pregnancy are slim to none. If the baby does survive to birth, it will most certainly perish in the first few hours of life. This condition is always fatal. Although these babies don't have properly formed internal organs that correspond with their gender, their external appearance can indicate a specific gender. In this case we found out we would be having a boy.

It turns out that women with Triploidy pregnancies are also at higher risk for some pregnancy related complications and illnesses. If we decided that we wanted to try to progress in the pregnancy and give our baby the best shot at whatever life he'd have, I would have to undergo a C-Section because the birth would put too much pressure on his poorly developed skull and brain. Even with a C-Section, he was still unlikely to survive beyond his first few moments out of the womb.

After much thought, the decision was clear. It was never what we wanted, but I knew it was right for me. We would have taken disability, but that's not what we had. We had a death sentence. Our baby was caught here, and he was going to be called home soon. My health was in jeopardy - mental and physical. We decided to meet him right away. We decided to set our whole family free. Arrangements had to be made. News had to be shared. We set about moving along in our journey. In the days to come we would face our baby boy. We would say our goodbyes. We would test our relationship. We would explore our faith. We would face the unexpected, and I would find out that I was a stronger person than I ever knew.

The last installment of this story is coming soon. My son's birthday is almost here, so the final chapters of his story have constantly been on my mind. Thanks for reading!