Greetings from the USA

Yes, I’m stateside. I have very mixed feelings about it, but I’m here. I really, really struggled with the decision of staying in Ireland versus delivering in the U.S., but then the “powers that be” got involved, and the decision was essentially made for me. It would have been FAR easier to stay in Ireland, but the “powers that be” were not comfortable with me delivering outside of the U.S., so here I am. I pushed and pushed to stay in Dublin as long as possible, but eventually it was time to go. In fact, I’m fairly sure the RMO was ready to personally escort me to the airport if I asked to extend my stay in Dublin one more time.

Overall, travel was easy. Well, as easy as can be with 14+ hours of airport and flight time and an injection, at 32 weeks.

I miss my husband and cats terribly, but I have to trust that we’ve done the right thing.

Many, many updates to come.

ultrasound pictures from April and May

I haven’t scanned all of the ultrasound pictures from April and May, but here are a few of them.

24 weeks (in the U.S., estimated weight 1lb 6oz)


29 weeks 5 days (estimated weight 3lbs 6oz)


31 weeks

give me another week please

Many apologies for the long silence. To say that I’ve been busy is the understatement of the century. Moving, unpacking, no internet, work related events (husband), social events, appointments, and a few unexpected trips to the hospital (baby and I are fine).

Unfortunately this coming week will be just as crazy as the last. Please give me another week to take care of a few things and I promise A LOT of updates, and pictures, soon.

Miss you all!

a brief escape during the move last week….

The cats were sequestered in an upstairs bathroom during the move last week. They had ‘some’ of the comforts of home, a cat box, food, water, favorite blankets, etc.. It was fairly quiet, an occasional meow from Bella, but overall, quiet.

Around 1pm, the movers had gone outside to have lunch, my husband was in the kitchen, I came around the corner and saw Bella walking down the stairs. “CATS”, I yelled. I wasn’t sure if Guinness had already made it through the foyer to the open front door or not. My husband came running; I chased Bella back up the stairs, and MUCH to my relief, saw Guinness dash into the master bedroom. Bella quickly followed him in, then the little miss had the nerve to turn around and hiss at me, likely knowing that I was there to capture her and return her to the bathroom.

My husband had secured the doors on the main floor, then ran up to assist with the cat catching. Bella went into a guest room, where she was quickly rounded up. Guinness stayed in the master bedroom and darted in and out from behind boxes, until he too was finally captured.

Both cats were returned to the bathroom with a guard (my husband) posted at the door. Yeah, I had forgotten that Guinness knows how to open door handles and let himself out.

a different kind of move, it’s out of control, at least out of my control

I’ll be honest, today is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’ve had four major moves in the last five years, five if you count Scottsdale to Washington state, prior to moving to Germany. Six, seven, or eight moves if you count Belarus to Lithuania, then Lithuania to the States, then the U.S. to Ireland, after we were PNGd. Needless to say, I’m something of a moving aficionado at this point.

For moving, I have a system. The system involves packing my own linens and clothes, the use of spreadsheets and lists, and lots and lots of organizing and cleaning. Unfortunately since the actual “we found you a new residence” and “you can move next week” came rather suddenly, my system was a bit shot. Add in that we have no household help and I’m 30 weeks pregnant, my system is REALLY shot.

This is a HUGE problem for someone that survives and thrives on organization and control. Yes, I know, then why in the world did I marry into the FS, another topic, another post. Anyway, for this move, I’ve had to put down my tape gun, shout a farewell to my colored Sharpies, and I’m fairly certain that my husband has hidden my spreadsheets. NOT fun.

Just in the past week, I’ve had no fewer than 10 people tell me that I’m not allowed to pack, help, or chase around the movers with my lists (for which I’m sure they’re thankful). The “powers that be” have called several times and told me that in my “condition” I need to sit on the couch and relax. Of course I agreed, only to put the phone down and start another list. What I hadn’t planned on was a husband who would actually take the day off and stay home to supervise the move, and me. This is a first; he’s usually stuck at work during pack-outs. So here we are, me typing away on my laptop, him perched at the other end of the couch (between me and the doorway no less), watching me out of the corner of his eye. I’m trapped, really trapped. The loss of control is hard.

moving- hour two

Three months ago, a nice man from the moving company came to do a preliminary inventory and give an estimate, “just in case” we decided to move. Two weeks ago he came back to do another inventory, and to drop off some boxes and tape, you know, because I was going to pack. Hey, good intentions.

Five minutes before his second visit, I had been told that instead of just taking our personal items, we were now supposed to take the furniture we wanted, too. I called the “powers that be” to confirm, and told yep, take the furniture. Unfortunately nobody had bothered to inform the moving company, so when the nice man arrived, he had to re-do the bid. He said that with the added furniture he would either need an additional day or more men. “MORE MEN”, I just about shouted. He said that he would speak with the “powers that be” and that the movers would be here on the arranged date.

This morning four men arrived. “Ummmm,” I said as I nervously peeked outside hoping to see at least three or four more. Nope. As soon as they walked through they told us that this would be a two-day move. NO!!!!! Unfortunately yes. I don’t know who dropped the ball. It was either the “powers that be” or the moving company. Either way, we were prepared for boxing, loading, moving, unloading, un-boxing, done. Now it’s going to be boxing, loading, boxes spend the night in the truck, truck comes back tomorrow, unloading, un-boxing.

I ran upstairs, err, I walked up carefully, grabbed a toothbrush and other toiletries, change of clothes, then went to the kitchen to rescue cat dishes and food before they were packed.

So much for an easy, one-day, in-town move.

new submission for the FAM perhaps

For you non FS readers, that’s the Foreign Affairs Manual, aka, the bible of the Foreign Service. Yes, I have a new rule that should be included, a rule that many would actually find useful.

If you haven’t used it, read it, listened to it, watched it, or worn it in the past five years, you don’t need it and shouldn’t be hauling it all over the world. Especially true if you’ve told your spouse that she can’t have certain things because your HHE (household effects) is already over the weight limit.

This brought to you by the pre-move boxing up that it currently taking place in my house.

nesting to the extreme

Some women sew curtains, some women scrub the floors, some women re-organize the kitchen cabinets, I, move to a new house. Yes, one of the situations mentioned in some of my rather cryptic posts has finally been resolved. I didn’t want to say anything until it was signed, sealed, and delivered, but now that everything is official, I’m THRILLED to announce that we are moving, on Friday. This, is the ultimate in nesting.

The good and the bad.

First the bad….
I’ve been busy, busy, busy lately, too many appointments and commitments. That means that the normal cleaning, organizing, and packing I do before a “typical move”, (I’ll wait while you FS readers laugh at ‘typical move’) hasn’t been done. The movers will be here bright and early on Friday morning and nothing is ready. EEP!

We are also losing the biggest garage/ basement/ ultimate storage area I’ve ever seen in a FS residence. So of course I’m now scrambling to find things to throw away, donate, or send back to the States. Fortunately the embassy is taking donations for a local charity and my husband has already taken one full SUV load over. I haven’t yet broken the news to him that there is another load, or two, to take.

There is also a teeny-tiny time crunch. I have approximately three weeks to pack, move, unpack, organize, set up the new house, etc, before heading back to the U.S. (more on that later).

Now, the good news...
The new residence is about ½ a mile from the current house, so it’s not like we won’t see our stuff for 3+ months. This will be the easiest FS move ever. I’m hoping that the movers will gently box up our things, transport everything the short distance, and voila, done.

Aside from a major lack of storage, the new house seems perfecto! My husband’s commute to work is still a mere hop, skip, and jump, the neighborhood is lovely, and the house has been very well maintained (from what we’ve seen).


So goodbye electricity issues, goodbye plumbing problems, and goodbye mold. New house, we’ll be there on Friday!

To my infertile friends...

with Mother’s Day this Sunday, I know it’s a very difficult time. Please do whatever you need to do to get through the weekend, be kind to yourself, protect your heart.

Someone sent this to me and I thought I would share.

Mother’s Day During Your Infertility Journey

Thinking of all of you.

I need to whine (heparin related)

Just let me complain for a minute, then I’ll stop. I have tried very hard to avoid posting about pregnancy related issues. There are many infertile women who read the blog and I know how painful it is when women “on the other side” complain about pregnancy, so I’ll keep this brief. Or, feel free to ignore. Trust me, I understand, and ((HUGS)).

The heparin injections are getting more difficult by the day. I can’t begin to tell you how many clothes have been ruined, money has been spent, and tears have been shed. My body has just about had it. During my last week in the U.S., I had finally run out of room on my stomach (or so I thought), and started injecting into my thighs. Upon my return to Dublin, my husband somehow found some remaining space on my stomach, so we are back to doing injections there.

Heparin stings, A LOT. It’s much worse than Clexane, Innohep, and Lovenox, or so I’ve been told, by everyone. Unfortunately the doctors will not let me switch to the low-weight molecular stuff, so on I go with heparin. In addition to initial sting, the tissue underneath often continues to burn for hours after the injection, then it itches. In order to avoid scratching my skin completely off, I’ve been using Benadryl cream and lotion several times a day. Oh, and then there’s the little issue of running out of inject sites. Most of the tissue is so damaged and hard underneath my skin, that even if I manage to get the needle through, upon withdrawing it, the heparin often comes squirting back out and I have to start again.

And the clothes…. Heparin is a blood thinner, so mix a needle, some thin blood, and clothes, and you have a mess. I usually walk around holding tissue on my stomach for up to 30 minutes, or until the bleeding stops, but the sites often bleed again within an hour, or even the next day. Bandaids aren’t an option because I’m allergic to latex and even the latex-free bandaids irritate my skin, a lot. Let’s just say, we go through gallons of OxiClean, other stain removers, and bleach at my house. My clothes are blood stained every.single.day. On the good days it’s just little specks, on the bad days it looks like I’ve murdered someone, violently.

From what I’ve been told by the high-risk OBs, I’ll continue on with two injections a day until delivery (scheduled because of the heparin), get a 12 hour break, then another six weeks of shots.

Counting down the days……

Thanks for letting me vent. Carry on with your regular scheduled, and less messy, blogging.