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LFCA Latest Issue: Friday, September 25, 2009.

Latest Post on BlogHer: Parenting after Infertility.

My Status: Fed Josh's almonds to the squirrels. They needed them very badly.

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Secondary Fertility (Pregnancy Mentioned--Not Mine!)

I have a friend who did six rounds of IVF, received the donor egg talk, moved up to that famous clinic in NY that rhymes with Or-nell for a cycle, and conceived her boy/girl twins which she protected with PIO and Lovenox injections. It's a pretty amazing success story. The twins just turned a year old and she discovered a few weeks ago that she is pregnant. Naturally. A case of secondary fertility.

I mentioned a blog post in a roundup a few weeks ago that Ellen from Miss E's Musings wrote about her friend whose sibling experienced a similar situation of secondary fertility. She wrote:

If infertility is a game, then these couples are doubly lucky -- they beat the odds, and then they won the next round without even having to play. I don't know how they honestly consider their good fortune, or whether it makes them think differently of the first round. They all appear to enjoy the second pregnancy a lot more, which makes a lot of sense. I would probably feel relieved. Maybe even a little triumphant.

My infertility counselor always said, "Parenting resolves childlessness; it doesn't resolve infertility." I agree with this in theory, but it's awkward in application. The clinical definition of infertility is the failure to conceive or carry to term after 1 year of unprotected sex. But then what? Is there an expiration date on the label "infertile"? Do you get upgraded to "subfertile" when you have a child? And do you ever get upgraded to "fertile"?

And it's interesting because until I spoke with my friend, my eyes had passed over that sentence about how they all appear to enjoy the second pregnancy a lot more. I had assumed that would be how I would feel if it happened to me. I would have a happy accident and would get to experience that other side of stress-free, private conception that fertile women experience from point one--sort of like getting a VBAC delivery after the c-section.

Yet this really isn't the case at all after I spoke with my friend. The pregnancy brings with it a mix of feelings--from relief and joy to anxiety and frustration. Why did I have to go through all of that shit the first time? Am I still infertile? That's the community I know--am I about to be kicked out? Will I carry to term? Why aren't they giving me the same number of sonograms I got to have coming off a twin pregnancy after IVF? Don't they understand that I am more anxious and distrustful of my body than the average woman? And with these internal questions come the guilt--I just succeeded again when I have friends who are still trying for their first. I wasn't trying to have a child and now I have to scramble to figure out how we will incorporate this new person into our family and it makes me feel ungrateful.

The reality is that we all--at any given moment--have a near future that we envision for ourselves and are awfully attached to when push comes to shove. When you get engaged, you envision your future to include a wedding and a honeymoon. For some women, that future is ripped away unexpectedly either by the relationship ending or the fiance dying. And it's brutal to have a future that you carefully constructed in your mind snatched away. We have preconceived near future ideas concerning career, education, or home-buying. We predict how life will look a few months into the future. And when you start trying to conceive, the future is that you'll be pregnant soon and that future is shredded apart by infertility.

But in all of this also needs to be the understanding that when you are parenting, you also have a near future envisioned--one that might include trips or jobs or opportunities for your family--and that vision is ripped away by an unexpected pregnancy. Even if this pregnancy follows spontaneously on the heels of infertility. This may be difficult to read and you may be saying, "who cares--I have a problem because I am still in the throes of IVF. She doesn't have a problem. She is simply someone who hit the jackpot twice."

And is she lucky? Yes--I think my friend, even with all of this stress, would describe this as fortuitous. Perhaps ill-timed fortune, but fortune nonetheless. But even good luck brings its own struggles.

It was an interesting conversation--eye-opening to me--because so much of her identity is connected to infertility. Most of her friends have experienced infertility or are currently doing treatments. She volunteers with RESOLVE and participates in focus groups for infertility. And it's the only community she knows--the one that she has been drawing and providing support to and from for the past several years. Like many people, when she started to go through this crisis, she gravitated towards friends who were in similar situations. And soon, stirrup queens replaced the fertile myrtles. It isn't that she (or I, for that matter) doesn't have any fertile friends--she did keep friends from her past--but the majority of her current support system comes from the Land of If.

And while she knows where she stands insofar as infertility--she believes that she is still firmly an infertile woman regardless of this spontaneous single pregnancy--she doesn't know how others perceive her. If she will still be accepted.

And it's a shitty, strange feeling to wish that you had to struggle a bit so you can still sit at the same lunch table.

It's a question that I've been entertaining because, obviously, a great deal of my own identity is tied up in infertility. I read infertility and I write infertility daily. But along the way of researching this book, I have realized that even though infertility is one of the shittier aspects of my life, it is also the life event that has shaped how I view the world or interact with people. I think I would be happiest in life if a clinic hired me to be their professional hand-holder. I could accompany people to blood draws and appointments and sit with them afterwards in a nearby Starbucks and commiserate. If there was a way for Josh to become a self-made millionaire, I would dedicate my life to being a comforter. I think I am happiest when I am interacting with another infertile person and either passing along information or bouncing their words back to them or simply listening and crying with them. I spend so much time writing my blog and reading yours because it makes me happy. And even when it is breaking my heart to read a story and it is not necessarily a "happy" moment, it is certainly the most comfortable moment. The one where I am wearing the correct skin.

I don't always feel comfortable. I don't connect with the other mothers on the playground. And I can be pretty quiet and shy when you throw me into a room with people I don't know. But when I'm with someone infertile, I simply connect from point one. And I can find the right words to say or the way to start and sustain a conversation.

And when she was speaking about her fears of losing that--of losing her community--it made me think about that fine line you walk when you are trying to have a child after primary infertility. How internally, you want so badly for it to be easy this time. But how externally, you feel that you need for it to be hard again in order to hold onto your support system. I think about this a lot because we are currently trying naturally and won't be returning to the clinic until some pieces fall into place financially. So there are still several cycles ahead of me where it could happen. And if it does, will I still be accepted in my own community? The one where I feel like I'm in the right skin?

I think we make a lot of assumptions as a community. When we're cycling, we think that we'll be so happy once we achieve pregnancy. But that isn't always the case. And I'm not talking about the anxiety that accompanies a pregnancy after infertility or loss. I'm talking about the dirty truth that stirrup queens feel queasy mentioning--that they sometimes wonder what they've gotten themselves into. They sometimes wonder why they aren't feeling more joy. Pregnancy after infertility requires a great deal of emotional support--just as much support as is needed during cycling.

And as a community, we have a tendency to desert people once they achieve pregnancy. It is the lucky blogger who finds that she has just as many readers while she is cycling than when she is pregnant. I think many bloggers believe that they have nothing to contribute to a conversation about clogged milk ducts while they're still cycling. And it's true--you may not have anything to say about clogged milk ducts. But that doesn't mean that you can't offer a sympathetic "I'm sorry; it sounds like it sucks." Or simply read without comment as a sign of silent support. What I am trying to say--and while I know that I've said this more than once on this blog, I think it bears repeating--that women pregnant after infertility need support and the only community they may know is this one. When we desert them, we take away one of their coping mechanisms after extending them that support during previous months. It's a hard thing to have happen to you.

Are pregnancy blogs difficult to read when you're still cycling? Fuck, yes. Maybe you can't continue as a daily reader but simply be there for the person during spaces in your own cycle where you can breathe.

I write this without a chance of being pregnant right now--I'm in the middle of my period. But it still is something that I've considered myself--the fine line costs of secondary fertility--that perhaps are outweighed tremendously by the gains--a baby conceived without the emotional, physical or financial costs of treatments--but still contain a certain sting. Maybe I write this post selfishly because I worry that it will happen to me. I didn't have a support system in place the first time I was trying and I really struggled emotionally. And now I have a support system in place and I worry about losing it when I know I still need it even if readers believe that I'm fine on my own or should move into the land of Momsville (it's one of those mainland towns where the mommy bloggers live). I know I will still belong here even when I am finished building my family.

And I hope you agree that I still understand the struggle even if I do stand with my feet in both worlds (I'm sort of assuming that if you don't think that I get it, you don't read my blog. Because that would be sort of strange. To keep reading if you thought that I had nothing to add). Because the emotions tied to infertility didn't go away for me after I held my children and I don't believe that they will go away for me even after my family is built. Perhaps that is more a fact of my own journey. Yet that is certainly how my friend is feeling in the moment as well even with her spontaneous pregnancy.

As I said, we are a community that tends to turn away from women once they achieve pregnancy--and it's something that pregnant women understand on some level because they have done it themselves to other infertile women who became pregnant before them. We are a community that feels that secondary infertility is not "as bad" because you already have a child--though the reality is that secondary infertility comes with its own set of problems, its own set of heartache, its own set of frustrations that are unique and unimaginable when you are going through primary infertility. It's not a large stretch for my friend--or myself--to worry about this.

I hope you would still have me as the barkeeper for the Virtual Lushary if I was ever lucky enough to have this happen to me.


Sunny said...

I will be there. I will be at your bar. I will totally keep reading.

I do find it hard to read pregnancy blogs but I do read. I might not comment because I have no 2 cents to give but I can't stop reading.

I so had something thought provoking in response to your post but the many drinks that I have had today because of 3 bfp and 1 m/c in my life have caused me to forge. :(

Oh I know I wanted to say "AMEN!" To everything you wrote for sure!

pink said...

I completely understand your friend's situation--because I'm there as well. (We didn't have to go as far up the IF ladder to get #1, but my second pregnancy came as a surprise.) And I have been more stressed and scared this pregnancy because we didn't have to work as hard to get it. I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop--and thankfully so far it hasn't.

DH totally doesn't understand why I spend so much time reading IF blogs, but it's because I still identify myself as being part of that community--and I think I always will.

It's like being in your 20s/30s and having lost a parent: it's a club nobody wants to be in, but once you're there--no matter how long ago your mom/dad died, no matter if your relationship was good or bad--you're in the club.

chicklet said...

You and Pink completely get it - this isn't a club I wanted to be a part of but now that I am, it feels like I'm closer with the people in the club than those who aren't, and sometimes I worry what will happen when the time comes for one of us to be congratulated. I worry how our new friendship will change, and sometimes it makes me sad worrying - it's a good worry, just still worrisome. So hopefully those of us reading your blog now will keep doing so, even if as you said, we can't actually comment cuz it's just too hard. At least you can know we're there in spirit.

Larisa said...

Great post. I think you always carry the scars of infertility, even if you are so lucky as to conceive spontaneously - whether it's a first pregnancy or a subsequent one.

I do continue to read pregnancy blogs, though I rarely comment. It is so hard - I'm so happy for those that get pregnant, but their "accomplishments" continue to mark my failures. How many blog babies have now had birthdays - and here I am, still in the "trenches". And how many posts can I read about preparing for baby before my heart breaks?

I love your line about a job as a professional comforter - I've often told my husband that my clinic should hire me - I could deliver the news that has so often been poorly delivered to me so much better.

I wish I had an answer. Yes, your friend needs support. But I don't know that I am strong enough to give it. I volunteer with RESOLVE as well, and I try to give support - but it's hard when I need so mcuh support at the same time.

Dianne/Flutter said...

Mel, if you are blessed quickly and naturally, I will still read your blog. Gladly have you serve me at the bar. Ultimately, I hope that we all get out of the trenches.

Michell said...

I'll still read your blog too. I love it even though I may not be completely part of the club because I haven't tried enough to find out, I still feel like it's a great support network.

kirby said...

Duh. Course we would still read it. Couldn't live without it.

I think there is an aspect of secondary fertility that I actually fear a bit.

Imagine if: you do the IVF, get preggo, give birth to a gorgeous kid or two, and then smack dab you're pregnant a year later. Naturally.

I couldn't help but wonder: was it all necessary? Was I just too impatient? How long is long enough to know it just isn't going to happen for you naturally?

And then what do you do if it does? I mean, I'd be over the moon thrilled, but damn I'd want to have all that money, shots and tears back.

PS - Thanks for the shout out. :)

es said...

Please be my professional hand-holder!

One of my friends just had a baby after a couple of years of IVF- and that was something that she told me right away- that she still considers herself "infertile", still gives pregnant girls secret glaring looks- even when she herself was pregnant! I guess you can never really break free from

PCOSMama said...

I feel for those with secondary fertility. Like you said, they wonder how they now fit into the IF world they've become so comfortable in, and like kirby said they inevitably start to wonder about their primary infertility and if they were somehow wrong. But we all know that if you are seeing a doctor for IF, then you are an infertile. The docs I've encountered won't give these meds out to just anybody - they run tests, do trial cycles, etc before determining what is needed.

This turned out longer than I planned - I just wanted to say that I will definitely still read your blog, and you serve the best drinks so I'll still be at the bar when it's open! Oh, and I would be absolutely thrilled if you turned out to be a case of secondary fertility!

xavier2001 said...

Amen sister.

As someone on the other side of things, pregnant after miscarriage and infertility, I struggle in my blog. Struggle to share both the joys of pregnancy and the support and compassion for those still in the trenches. I even worry about wearing maternity clothes in public, partly because I know that when I was struggling it was like a slap in the face to see a happy pregnant woman, so a small part of me feels like I am betraying my fellow infertiles by showing off my baby bump. And I truly don't feel like that happy, carefree pregnant woman because I know what can go wrong and am just holding my breath praying that there can be a happy ending in all of this.

If anyone has any advice on how to balance the two, the joy and the struggle, I'd be much obliged.

Artblog said...

Excellent post :)

I agree with every point made regarding the abandonment of pregnant bloggers. I've noticed it too but I certainly make the effort to continue to read them because essentially, I'm still interested in how they do and I cant wait to see pics of their babies after nine or so months. But maybe I can handle it because I have a daughter, I've been pregnant, I can relate so I have something to contribute? I'm sure an infertile blogger without a child yet, might feel out of it, I understand that side too.

Either way, fab post!

X Artblog

Twisted Ovaries said...

I was torn on the pregnancy blogs. While I was failing, miscarrying, and waiting, it all seemed too hard. Mostly, as I'd never gotten that far, it was like reading Greek. I could not only contribute, I couldn't even follow along.

But in pregnancy, you need the support just as much as you did when you're trying. The fear never leaves. Never. I just didn't understand before that the two pink lines people still need love and support.

I wish I could apologize to those I abandoned.

Baby Blues said...

You're the best bartender for the Virtual Lushery! So keep on serving those drinks.

A friend who had twins on her second IVF with just one functioning ovary is now pregnant again! Yes, naturally. Unbelievable.

Some women are just lucky.

Sara said...

I really hope that it does happen for you naturally, and promise that I'll always show up if you're pouring the drinks.

LJ said...

As always, a very honest post that I really appreciate.

This community is a fantastic one. We write for so many reasons, and share for so many more.

I continue to subscribe to blogs that have gotten the wonderful news. Sometimes I need to skip the post, but often I read and comment. No matter how easy or hard, pregnancy is scary knowing what we know. Kicking someone out of the sisterhood isn't an option to me. Plus, you could get on the beltway and kick my rear if I stopped reading :)

Samantha said...

Your posts always bring out such difficult issues in such a thoughtful way. We do all belong to a club that is defined by failure. Failure to get pregnant without medical help. Failure to maintain a pregnancy. Etc. At the same time, we are all hoping for success, for "graduation." No one wants to be the member who remains because she never has children. But others' successes remind us of our failures.

I like reading blogs for support and to know that success is out there, but reading pregnancy blogs can hard because I don't know if I'll ever get there. I do it anyway, because I like to dream. I like to think of them as graduates of the club. Still members, but in the alumni since. And they may end up coming back for another degree :)

I'd love it if you were my professional hand-holder!

Anam_Kihaku said...

thank you for that. needed to read that today. had a few shitty comments on my blog lately about becuase i have already got a child (even after 5 years of hell) that i cannot be infertile.. even though we're cycle 26 now and 2 m/c's down for a second child. i just feel lost - not really belonging anywhere and on our own again.

Pamela Jeanne said...

As someone who never got to the two pink lines stage but rather ended with the grainy black and white photos of my gorgeous seven embryos (closest thing that I ever felt to being pregnant), I have to say that it has taken LOTS of time and some serious emotional rationalizing for me to summon empathy for those with secondary infertility, but DD and others have taught me how much we still share in common.

And there are many Stirrup Queens who become pregnant and fret the entire time. That's pain and anxiety of a different form and I feel for them. Of course, it's harder for me to read the glowing posts of what it feels like to be pregnant, preparing for delivery or nursing. Brings up sad reminders of what I won't ever experience.

Regardless of our individual outcomes, we have all had our innocence taken away. We've been deprived of the pure joy and carefree "let's make a baby tonight" and related experiences. So it comes down to sensitivity. Each of us differs in what triggers hurt.

We all need special TLC as we heal from the trauma that IF inflicts. As one who never made it into the mommy club all I ask is that those who *have* continue to be gentle and understand that sometimes it's hard for those of us with primary IF not to be jealous or a tad bitter at times.

My motto is empathy is as empathy does. I'll be there for you in the way you need it if you're there for me in the way I need it.

Ellen K. said...

This is a great post, Mel, and I'm happy that your friend wants to "stay in the club." It's not a club that we particularly want to belong to, but it's a good one. And of course you will be a big part of it, always. The "comforter" job sounds fantastic, BTW. I've occasionally considered getting my master's in counseling so that I can work as an IF counselor. Perhaps that might be something you would be interested in doing?

Binky said...

Thank you for this incredibly thoughtful post. I definitely have a new layer of anxiety, fear, and survivors' guilt now that I'm a tiny bit pregnant.

Honestly, I could wake up one morning with more children than the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe and I would still be "infertile." The agony, the grief, the waiting, the feeling like you're broken -- it stays with you forever. And it ain't no wash-off tatoosie. It's a brand. I will never again be as innocent as I was up until the moment I heard the words, "There's no heartbeat."

Over the last two years, I have definitely experienced envy for those women who have gone on to carry healthy babies to term. I don't yet know whether I will be one of them, but I expect that if I am, I will even, on some level, feel envy for myself. And I will always recognize the sting of infertility when I see it in a sister's eyes.

Sorry for writing such a treatise. You really hit on something here.

thrice said...

Gosh, this is going to seem really far out, and a bit off topic.   It seems that in every pregnancy some fetal cells pass across the placenta into the mother's body.  These fetal cells can help to repair damaged organs.  I'm wondering, since ovaries and uteri are organs, if it is possible that in some cases that an IVF pregnancy can repair them and that is why some women who couldn't have gotten pregnant the first time around, turn around and find themselves with an "oops" pregnancy.

Frances said...

If it happens, you won't lose readers. I actually gained readership after pregnancy, as did a few fellow bloggers that I'm close with. Seems though misery loves company, there are plenty of IVFers out there who enjoy/need a good victory story. We need to know despite it all, pregnancy can happen spontaneously and without reason. We need to know that hey, if she endured x, y and z, I can too. And if after all that, she got pregnant, then I can too. It's about hope.

TeamWinks said...

I subscribe to the once infertile always infertile philosophy. This post was perfect, and I too feel that this is a community I belong in, no matter where my journey takes me from here.

LIW (Lady In Waiting) said...

I appreciated this post more than I can tell you. The worries that your friend - and you - have about losing your support system are shared by me, even though I am facing primary IF.

My husband and I are still early to the TTC realm - nearly a year of active trying - yet our age (35)and a concern about having endometriosis (and, to be honest, a painful impatience) has led us to seek medical intervention earlier than a lot of the other bloggers. I have secretly been worried that if we do get pregnant - with or without the help of clo.mid to solve what appears to be a luteal phase defect - will I lose the amazing community of women that I just recently found? The thought of a pregnancy(with all of the fears of m/c and "what have I gotten myself into" thoughts that it will bring) without the supportive comments from the women like you that I love and now depend on frightens me to the core. Though the disappointment over BFNs is painful, I do breathe a sigh of relief that I am *still* a member of the club.

I worried at the beginning of my blog that other members would not see me as a legitimate participant in this world since we had not yet hit the magic 1-yr of active trying date. Since that hasn't been the case, I became even more indebted to the IF community for its amazing kindness.

I agree that we need to do our best to keep up our connections once IF bloggers become pregnant. Though our initial connection stemmed from IF, many of us have found women with whom we share many personality traits and life struggles. Those connections are worth fighting for!

DD said...

As I creep up on my two year blogging anniversary, I've realized that my level of optimism has certainly tapered off. I sadly do not shout out as much as I use to when fellow IF bloggers announced their positives. As a matter of fact, it's been months even though many have found that moment.

Just as many, if not more, have also had terrible news and I still keep quiet. My heart has calloused from being squeezed so much.

I'll admit I have turned away from a couple of newly pregnant bloggers, but they are always blogs that I've just picked up and emotionally, I'm not vested.

For you, Mel, I feel vested in this virtual relationship. I do not expect the same, but would be honored if so. I would say that to anyone.

I have experienced that loss of support and it sucks, especially since it was always so tenuous at best. It hurt to see some readers leave when I was pregnant with Wolf, I it hurt when they came back when I miscarried. I felt like I was only good enough if I was miserable.

Reproductive Jeans said...

I love this post--its a strange emotion I think we all feel even though we want SO bad to be pregnant, I still feel the "bad" feeling of "what if I am not cut out for this..."

mandolyn said...

Mel, a virtual drink could never be the same if not served by you. No matter what.

I agree with many of the previous comments. Pregnancy after any kind of infertility is not an easy thing. Nothing about infertility is easy...not when you're in the trenches, not when you've left don't forget and it isn't amazingly over. Sunshine doesn't spotlight your every step. You hit it right- I don't feel like I fit in with any other community. I've been absolutely blessed to have amazing blog reader support throughout my pregnancy, and I do recognize how difficult that may be for some. I hope every reader and commentor on pregnancy blogs understands how appreciated they are, especially if they are a voice from the trenches!

Mary Ellen and Steve said...

I'll still be here Mel.

Motel Manager said...

What happened to your friend has happened to multiple friends of mine - I think sometimes you get a window of fertility after pregnancy because the pregnancy has righted your endocrine system or whatever (ahem, as you can tell, I am no doctor).

Even though I am close to having a baby now, I still feel WAY more part of the infertile team. I find myself confessing to having done multiple IVFs to random strangers, as if it is important that they realize that I am not one of them. I feel way more of a disconnect between me and a pregnant fertile friend than between me and a non-pregnant infertile friend, even if the latter might not think that. The whole experience of being pregnant after infertility is just really different (IMHO) than being pregnant and fertile.

Somewhat Ordinary said...

I will most definitely be at your bar no matter what! I have a friend whose situation sounds very much like your friend. She did 5 IVF's with the same doctor when he finally said she needed to think about donor eggs. She got a second opinion, did ICSI (which the other doctor told her wouldn't help her), and got pregnant the first time with girl/girl twins. When the girls were only 5 months old she found out she was pregnant again. It was a total shock! My point in all of this is that she is the one I turn to with questions about IVF and she will likely be helping me when my turn comes. I still consider her very much part of this sisterhood because she's been through far more than I have!

Zee said...

I wrote a little about this on my blog recently, and probably will write about it more. It seems to be on my mind quite a lot lately. The fact is, I don't stop reading--painful as it is much of the time--but I do tend to stop commenting, at least on pregnancy-related posts. Not because I feel that people no longer need support, but mainly because I don't know what to say. "Yeah! Great news!" is always appropriate, but starts to feel played out after a while. And, honestly, reading the supportive comments left by also-pregnant bloggers ("Argh! I know what you mean about morning sickness! But you know they say it's a good sign!") makes me feel like the nerdy girl who doesn't have a date for the prom sitting at lunch with her formerly-nerdy girlfriends who DO. You're happy for them, because they're your buddies, but at the same time you feel so left out you want to curl up and die.

What I'm saying is that it's not about kicking people out of the sisterhood, it's about feeling that they've joined a different sisterhood within the sisterhood, and that we're no longer "peers." And now that a lot of people on my blogroll have gotten the good news one after the other, the part of me that's not on the floor sobbing is saying, "Okay, well, they're dealing with a lot, but they've got each other. I need to take care of ME right now." Maybe it's selfish (okay, yes, it's TOTALLY selfish) but I think we've all been through so much that we have to cut each other some slack about these kinds of things.

Kelly said...

I love your blog! I think that those of us that have been crushed by infertility and miscarriage, never really leave "the club". That is just a scar way too deep to ever move beyond. We are all blessings to eachother who can all sympathize for having been there, even if we have since had children.

Matthew M. F. Miller said...

You'll need just as much support on the flip side of this process.

Besides, you serve free drinks at your bar. And they always have a good alcohol/mixer ratio.

Best wishes.

Jules said...

I use to read blogs religiously. I use to reply & comment. Now I'm just here, silently.

There have been so many pregnancies in the IF blogger world & from someone who is still yet to achieve the two lines, it does hurt. Don't get me wrong, I am so happy for you. You deserve it so much. I am just so sad for myself.

I admit I have dropped off a few blogs due to pregnancy. I just can't face reading them. I'm sorry to the authors, but you know where I am coming from. I do drop by from time to time, but always seem to pop in at one of your very happiest moments & them don't go back for a long time after that.

I have even dropped off blogging myself. I don't have it in me anymore. I just seem to repeat the same posts over & over.

Sorry I'm rambling...

I'm here even thought it may seem like I'm not.

Jules xoxoxo