Week 18! Every week seems more unbelievable that we have gotten this far. I am beginning to feel all the little movements, and if he is feeling really rambunctious Husband might actually feel him bouncing too. I feel him most when I drink my vanilla rooibos chai tea with a touch of milk. He seems to love it. The connections are growing and are becoming more comfortable.

My placenta continues to work against my insulin production and tolerance. Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) started me on Insulin last week. I am on small doses and my numbers are being well controlled, probably even better controlled.  So that is a huge bonus! I knew the insulin was coming. I cannot recall when I started it with Rainbow, but the goal I set for myself was to make it to week 20 before starting it. So, I missed that goal by 3 weeks. My MFM nurse was very kind and reminded me that this is not me! I am doing what I need to, and this is my placenta messing with my hormones.

It is frustrating to have to stab oneself with insulin twice a day, but as the nurse reminded me, this is what is best for baby and me.  I do have small feelings of failure, but once again- it is not MY FAULT.

Halloween was this week, which means fun and dress up for Rainbow.

She very excitedly picked out an Ariel costume when we were at Target weeks ago. So, with Colorado doing the snowy and cold thing that it does this time of year, she was layered with other clothing and bundled in a coat with her dress poking out the bottom. I suffered this pain as a child, and she now gets to partake in the cold holiday that is Halloween in full winter garb. The last two years she lucked out with warmer weather, but this year she gets the authentic experience from my childhood growing up here.

Rachel's Bump Day Blog, Week 18: A Week to Remember - Halloween after miscarriage

She went and had fun in the sub-zero weather with her father, Rainbow dressed as Ariel and Husband as a dinosaur. They wandered around the neighborhood while I stayed home to hand out candy. Every Halloween I am reminded of when I had the first miscarriage and I was home, alone, handing out candy, wondering if I will ever get to have that. A kid. My own little ghoul or goblin to walk around the neighborhood and go trick or treating. I got drunk, by myself.  I recall texting my friend Kat to tell her I was drunk and crying mess. I remember her telling me to STOP drinking and go to bed.

She was right. Every Halloween after that, I made an effort to not drink and just hand out candy or be otherwise occupied to not feel that hurt. It is hard to not feel that hurt around this time of year. While it is wonderful that I have Rainbow and she is so much fun and gorgeous, I still think of my trick or treaters that are not ringing doorbells.

I was able to go and grab baby items from my friend who is gifting me a lot of stuff.

Not gifting, but lending until she is ready for her #2. It’s interesting because when I gave her these items, I did not think about the fact that I would need or want anything back.  She is also letting me borrow a lot of maternity clothes, which the frugal part of me is loving!

Saturday rolled around, and it was just Rainbow and me for most of the day. We did normal errands, grocery shopping, naps, etc. When Husband came home from work, he told Rainbow that they were going to make his favorite dip for veggies (She struggles to eat raw veggies that are not hidden). So, they worked together and made his favorite cheese dip, AKA Velveeta and RoTel.

He mockingly said, “I know you are surprised that I planned such a fun activity for your kid. You probably think that I am the best dad ever. Your ovaries are exploding” (term we use for when I want more kids). Honestly, my ovaries were not exploding because he planned an activity for the kiddo. They were exploding because he is doing the dad thing, and I am able to sit down for a minute and finish my blog, do laundry, and not do the mom thing for a minute. There is no greater joy than being able to not be the primary parent. Most moms know what I am talking about.

I cannot recall if I have kibitzed before about how much harder pregnancy is with a three-nager than without.

The exhaustion is real. The impatience is real, and all I want to do is lay in bed and watch TV. I am glad I am here, and I am glad I am getting my Pot ‘O Gold. I also crave a quiet house and no responsibility.

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