My absence from the blog only means that I have been loving on this girl.

She takes up a huge amount of my days, and I love it!

Friday, I had my 6 week post-partum checkup.  I was declared fully healed... well... physically at least.  And, so it is with a huge sigh that I declare this pregnancy officially OVER!  Wow... what a journey, what a trip, what a year.  Hard to believe sometimes that I made it.

And with that I decided I needed a big change.  I needed to shed something old, and move on with something new, and so today for the first time in my life (except for a "strawberry blonde" disaster once in 10th grade that turned into Ronald McDonald hair) I am no longer blonde.  Well... I have some blonde highlights.  It's strange, but like I said I needed a change... I needed to do something to officially leave this experience behind me.  And this beat having a mid-life crisis.
And so... here's the new me along with a groggy Lily.

Compared to the old me...

Seriously bad look on my face, and no clue what I'm doing with my hand

I'm getting used to it... but I like it.  I think I might do something a little different with the highlights next time, but other than that it is a good change!

In my younger more naive days, I always envisioned my chunky self with a chunky baby with rolls and extra chins.  You have to kind of admit...a chunky baby tends to be cuter than a thin baby... as much as I don't want to admit that.  Then I thought of dressing that chunky baby up in something cute for Halloween... possible a round little pumpkin.  Cute, right?

And then... I had my first baby, and he was 3 lbs 4 oz.  Nearly 2 month later, as Halloween rolled around he was anything but chunky.  He was maybe 5 or 6 pounds.  Maybe we should have gotten him a skeleton costume.

L - Halloween 2007

Fast forward 4 years, and I'm pregnant again, and everyone is telling me that I'll probably have a 10 pounder to make up for the tiny one before.  Of course, you know what really happened.  I had a small baby, again... and while she was much bigger than "L" she is still a peanut.

I long for her to be a round, chunky pumpkin for Halloween, but she will probably look more like her brother did above for Halloween. 

And a part of me grieves that... as stupid as it may be.  I have small babies, they struggle to grow inside, and once out they struggle to eat and grow on the outside.  They will never be little rolls of flesh, never be round, chunky pumpkins.  One of the characteristics of Turner syndrome is short stature.  The average height of a girl with Turner syndrome is 4 feet 7 inches.  Lily is a peanut and will continue to be a peanut.  It is in her genetic make up.  There is nothing I can do to change that.

We have been having regular weight check ups.  I call them reverse Weight Watchers, because it is like weighing in, except you are hoping for a gain.  Strange world for this lifetime member, that's for sure.  As of yesterday she is up to 6 pounds 8 ounces!  I rejoice for every ounce.  Unfortunately, yesterday she was diagnosed with reflux, and is now on Prilosec.  I really hope this makes eating for her more enjoyable (like it is for me HA HA!), since she has been screaming bloody murder, and painfully spitting up through her nose for at least the past couple weeks.

Nope... Lily will not be my chunky pumpkin for Halloween this year, and deep down inside for some stupid reason that makes me really sad.  But I knock myself upside the head for feeling that way, and thank my lucky stars for everything Lily will have.  Lily won't have have height but she will have:
Average intelligence.
The ability to walk.
The ability to talk.
She'll hear music.
She'll be able to see a sunset.
A perfect heart.
Working kidneys
A big brother that loves her
A mommy and daddy that would do anything for her
An awesome support system to get her through whatever life has in store for her.
And she lives in a day and age where technology would allow her to someday have her own child... if she wanted to!

Yes, my daughter will never be big, but compared to what could have been... who cares!

One month ago, I started the day with fear, and ended it with hope.
One month ago, I was groggy and sore-recovering from surgery, but relieved that this pregnancy was over!
One month ago, I didn't know the results of a very important MRI.
One month ago, I welcomed a little fighter into this world.
One month ago, I became a mom... again!
One month ago, my daughter's chromosomes were in the process of being counted, and we were on the brink of finally having our answer.
One month ago, I watched the prayers of hundreds... maybe thousands... be answered.
And the answer was...

Here's your miracle:


In the last month, I have over and over again realized how blessed I am.  To the point that it easily brings me to tears.

Lily Grace you are a stubborn, little, fighter, and I love you!  You continue to bring me stress, but also joy beyond measure.

Whenever I hear the song "Blessings" I always think about your journey... "sometimes your blessings come through raindrops, sometimes your healing comes through tears... what if trials of this life, are your mercies in disguise?"


Happy 1 month birthday, baby girl!

It is time.
It is time for me to fess up and face the facts that I'm 30 pounds over my goal weight, and I feel like a slug and a whale all rolled into one.
It is time for me to say that having no pants that fit, other than stretchy pants, stresses me out!
It is time for me to admit that I have eaten way too much candy corn in the past 3 days!
It is time for me to admit that I used to be a size 8, and I'm probably a 14 or maybe even a 16 right now.
It is time for me to admit that it is going to get cold in Minnesota soon and my warm Columbia Coat from last year is not going to fit, and I am going to freeze!

I'm 3 weeks postpartum and my body shape has completely changed.  I've always been an apple, but this pregnancy widened my back side and hips significantly.  I thought, oh, I'll just wear my pants with a Bella band, until I can zip them again, but the reality is my pants won't even go over my hips right now.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my self-esteem in in the crapper right now.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, because I do.  I really do.  Having no pants that fits sucks!

I'd be lying if I said that I am not stress/comfort eating right now.  Being home all day long with a newborn is not some sort of bliss, like you might be lead to believe.  It is boring sometimes, and tedious, and tiring, and crazy, and worth it all rolled into one.  I grab things here and there to eat when I have a free hand, which isn't that often.  I snack all day long, and not on carrots and cucumbers either!  When I do eat, its usually interrupted and fast, and I snarf something down and 30 minutes later forget that I actually ate, and repeat all over again.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my favorite food right now is white bread, toasted, with lots and lots of organic butter.  I say organic because that makes it better, right?

I'd be lying if I said that I have an organized plan to get off these 30 pounds, and fit into my clothes again.  I have some disorganized ideas in my head, but nothing concrete. 

I'd be lying if I said that I have any intention of exercising any time soon... read:  in the next year. 

I'd also be lying if I said that weight loss is my number one or even my number twenty priority right now.

Finally, I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm a little scared I'll never be able to lose this weight.  Wait... you say, aren't you the person that previously lost 115 pounds?  30 pounds should be like a walk in the park to you.  For some reason I can't seem to muster up that feeling inside of me that believes in myself to do this again.  That believes I can get back to that goal weight number ever again.

Just goes to show you that people that have lost a lot of weight in the past don't have any bigger secrets or any less problems, than the regular person out there that needs/wants to lose weight.

So there you have it... I'm 30 pounds overweight, have no clothes that fit, need my hair cut and my brows plucked, have acne like a teenager, and pretty seriously look like a mess! 

But... at least I'm being honest with myself, and for now, that's a step in the right direction.
I certainly thought this would be easier.

Life with this little one never seems to have a dull moment.  I think I forgot how bittersweet these early weeks can be... and how exhausting!  True to her personality, Lily has decided that she will not do things the way that people (aka doctors) would like her too.  As proven time and time again, even before her birth, she is not one to follow the "rules", however upsetting that may be to her mother.  You would think given all we've been through this year, that I would somehow be able to easily relinquish control, but no, I still try and make things go my way, when I am definitely not the one in control.

She is 18 days old, and still is 3 oz shy of her regaining her birth weight.  Most babies are back to their birth weight's by 2 weeks old.  Am I surprised?  No... really not.  This is Lily after all, and she does things the way she does them.  Am I frustrated.  You bet.  Best of all... this is officially known as "Failure to Thrive"

Now as a mother... no, make that post-partum, hormonal, C-section recovering mother - giving a label of "failure" is enough to make you sit around and do some major crying.  I'm not sure who thought up that term, but honestly they ought to be banished into Siberia or something!  Being told your baby is not growing... or at least not growing fast enough has to be one of the worst things someone can tell a new mother.  My sole responsibility right now is to feed this baby... and now that's turned to failure!  UGH!

You'd think that little babies love to wake up and cry and cry telling you they are hungry.... not Lily.  I actually have to set my alarm so that I can wake up to feed her.  After yesterday at the doctor our routine goes a little like this:

Wake up baby.
Take off all baby's clothes, because it is impossible to wake her.
Breastfeed for 20 minutes
Offer a bottle with "weight gainer 3000" formula
Watch as baby squirms and chokes on the bottle only to find out she's taken less than 1/2 an ounce, and has officially clamped her jaws shut, and is now giving you a look of betrayal.
Coax baby to please take more.
Plead with baby to let you control her.
Repeat for 40 minutes.
Give up and bang head against the wall, sure that she is going to end up in the hospital with an NG tube, like "L" did.
Go to the bathroom, get a drink, settle back in, and now since 90 minutes has elapsed, collapse into completely non-restful sleep and repeat again in 90 minutes!

So... if you see me and I seem a little crazy, you know why.
And if I have to hear that stupid word failure one more time... I'm going to officially lose it!

You'd think with the genes my children have they would be really good at gaining weight!