Getting back to Swinger Sundays!! Meet the mama behind "My D Cup Vs. Gravity". Leave her some love and stop by and follow her blog!

So, one of my biggest problems with being a bigger girl now is that one upon a time I was extremely thin. I have to remind myself that I was thin because I was not being good to my body. I had "outside" forces that were eating me alive, and my diet consisted of lucky charms, taco bell, and those two for a dollar cookies from the gas station. This went on for nearly ten years. Then, I got pregnant. I stopped using and picked up a fork. Or a fork-lift rather! I gained eighty pounds in nine months and didn't attempt to shed any after the baby was born.

With second baby, I did lose weight. I was on the cusp of having diabetes and that scared the hell out of me. I walked an hour every night in the winter storms, determined to have a healthy baby and an easier delivery. I was measuring out 1/4 cups of pasta for dinner, and writing down all of my carbohydrates. It worked. After delivery, I was fifteen pounds lighter than when I got pregnant.

But here we are now. Baby is six months and I have stopped losing weight. I am not walking so much and constantly feel hungry. I eat a spinach and hard-boiled egg for lunch so that I can eat gobs of peanut butter out of the jar.

I am still self-destructive, only now these are legal activities. What is the drive behind all of this? I have an addictive personality, whether it be drugs or chocolate. I think I need to work on this before I start hopping on the scale.

Amber here: Great post!! I think we all have these bad habits... I defintely have an addictive personality, and im sure there are lots of you out there that battle similar issues. We would love to hear your feedback on the issue!

Welcome to the Family              Five days after your due date, I had one last checkup appointment with my Obstetrician. We were preparing to induce labor that following Sunday or Monday. At the time of the visit, I hadn’t dilated or effaced any since two weeks before. I left the doctor’s office with a sense of the end in sight, but still disappointed. This wasn’t how I wanted labor to be. I wanted you to come on your own; I wanted contractions to start naturally; to share the “Is this it?” moment of excitement and panic with your father, timing contractions, calling the doctor and hospital, etc. I wanted the drama that you see in the movies. However, it was beginning to look as though we were to have a lab labor instead: start it all through dripping chemicals into my arm via plastic tubing. I was torn. I was disappointed at the induction prospect, but had an overriding sense of satisfaction knowing one way or another I was going to meet you soon. In one last effort to kick start labor the old fashioned way, your father and I walked laps around the mall. I had spicy Chipotle for lunch, and we had fantastically greasy Five Guys burgers for dinner (not the ideal last meal before labor, but I was calling labor’s bluff). After dinner and Mommy-Daddy time, I went to sleep for the night. Around 11:45 pm, I awoke in pain. My middle felt like it was in a vice. It wasn’t unbearable, but rather just uncomfortable enough to wake me from a deep sleep. I got up, and came out into the living room where Dad was, still up on the computer. “You okay?” he asked.              “I’m in pain,” I said holding my lower abdomen.              “Like…labor pain?” We’d had a few false alarms, and he didn’t want to (again) get worked up over nothing.              “I don’t know.” I couldn’t help but giddily smile through the discomfort. “We should see if we can time them.” And so we did. I was having contractions four and five minutes apart. Eee! The magic number! The hospital had us wait another hour before getting on the road to make sure it wasn’t false labor (it wasn’t). So at 1 am, Dad drove to the hospital, me in the backseat moaning through the contractions and giggling in between. The whole way there, the midnight sky lit up with a beautiful electrical storm stretching from one end of the horizon to the next. It then dawned on us: if this was it, you’d be a Friday the 13^th baby (you were).              We arrived at the hospital. Upon entering the Emergency entrance, I commandeered a wheelchair, and was escorted up to the maternity floor. They checked my vitals: still not dilated or effaced. They escorted me to our room where I began to spend most of my time in the huge maternity tub, soaking in the warm water to ease the pain of contractions. At first, the nurse turned on a soothing CD of Native American flute songs. That quickly morphed into my custom playlist appropriately titled, “Labor? What Labor?” that included such hip-moving, feel-good music as The Temptations, The Jackson 5, and Marvin Gaye.              The contractions got stronger as the hours wore on. I was dilating about a centimeter an hour, and completely effaced after about three. After six and a half hours, I asked for the epidural. The pain was excruciating, yes. But what made up my mind about getting the epidural, was knowing I didn’t have the energy to muster through the increasing contractions for another few hours and push the baby through when it came time.              The Anesthesiologist came in and prepped for the epidural. I don’t remember much from that time because I was in so much pain during contractions, and exhausted in between them. I even dozed off a couple times in those few minute sanctuaries. He rapidly explained what he had to do, had me sign the necessary paperwork, and off we went. After the epidural, labor slowed significantly. But thankfully it allowed me to get some rest. After much needed sleep, they started Pitocin and a few hours later I was pushing. When you came out, your father exclaimed, “Babe, there she is!” Then the doctor laid you on my stomach, and I held you while Daddy cut your umbilical cord. You came out blinking your eyes and wobbling your head around; so strong and healthy. You scored high on your Apgar test (8 and 9), and latched on like a breastfeeding pro. That’s my girl.               Everyone was so impressed with you from the moment you were born. Every nurse wooed over you every chance they got; you were so beautiful from the start. I swear they were looking for reasons to come into our room to see you. Dad even got stopped in the hall at the hospital about how precious you were (you still are). You look just like your Dad, which still throws him for a loop. “She’s got my nose!” he said while holding you for the first time. You have just about everything from your old man: nose, mouth, chin, hands. You have my ears and dimples (one side more prominent than the other), and both of our long lashes. Your eyes are blue right now, so I’m interested to see if they stay blue or change. Your hair was dark brown when you were born, but every day it gets a bit lighter, and more and more red. Personality-wise, you’re an easy baby like your Dad was, but a total cuddle-bug like your Mom.              So that’s how you came to be. We love you so much, and are happy you’re finally here darling. Welcome to the family.

One of the last posts from Aymee before she starts writing to Maddie on the OUTSIDE!! So excited to see her sooooooon!!!!Are we there yet?              As I’m writing this, it is Madeline’s due date. Today should mark the end of pregnancy and the beginning of a new life with our daughter. However, it doesn’t feel as special as it did in my imagination. It’s just another day without broken water, without contractions, without adrenaline rushes, without excited yet anxious phone calls. Since the 35^th week of pregnancy, I’ve been pining for this day (besides the obvious reasons). The first day of my 35^th week, I woke up and the euphoria I had been feeling about pregnancy had vanished. The last month realities hit me like a ton of bricks. My back hurt, my legs ached, simply walking from one place to another exhausted me, I began having trouble sleeping, the heartburn kicked into high gear, sciatic nerve pain began shooting down my back and legs, and in the last few weeks my belly exploded in size, mauling my skin with stretch marks. My belly looks like the surface of Venus. I long for regular jeans, lace-up shoes, hot non-pregnant sex with my husband, and after all that—a stiff drink. I want my body back, damnit.              Today has felt like I’ve run a marathon, but the finish line is missing the ribbon garnish, confetti, photographers’ flashing cameras, and a cheering crowd. Instead, it’s just a bare road with the end hiding somewhere in front of me. What else is there to do but keep running forward?              I want her here—not in here. I want to hold her, kiss her, sing to her, read to her, look into her eyes and watch her respond to my voice. I want to watch Adam do those things too. I want to watch him be a father. I want to sneak into the room and listen to him talk to her in the most honest way; to watch her turn him into mush in her tiny hand without him knowing I’m there.              I just keep telling myself, “Patience is a virtue,” “Good things come to those who wait,” and “The longer you wait for something, the sweeter it is when you get it.” I know it’s true. I’ve had a wonderful pregnancy. I mean really, what a ride! I will forever cherish this time and these experiences. Every time I look at my daughter, I will remember the one-of-a-kind feeling of her rolling around inside; that special connection. But Maddie sweetheart, if I can give you some advice: the trick is to leave them wanting more…

Now, this may be a TMI post, but its my blog, so im gunna go for it anyways... lol Today I started "spotting" This is now week 9 since my last real period (if thats what this spotting turns into)... Zaq and I have been "trying" to make a baby for 2 months now... Yes... over two months since he said "just do it" over cocktails, and I took out my IUD... yes, I... Now - im starting to get really impatient here... and frustrated... and sad... and really emotional... and after all that, humbled. It was always a big joke to us... this whole baby making thing that is... Neither of the boys were planned.... two little accidents surprises that changed my world for the better... Zaq and I got together in November of 2005, by Feb 2006, I was pregnant with Izzaq.... we work fast, lol In October 12th of 2006 Izzaq was born, and in January, when I went in to get my IUD I was pregnant with Zavery, lol  *ahem* fast.   it was totally insane... but I wouldn't change it for the world... and just for a little flash into what my days looked like... I give you... the three greatest pictures on earth...
this is where it all started... in the hospital... and Izzaq has been picking on Zavery ever since...This was my absolute chaos... trying to start up RockerByeBaby with a one year old, a newborn... and a super sexy nursing bra, lol
and this... ahhhh this picture... you will notice here my sweetly sleeping newborn... and my happy pre-tot. why? Well izzaq has zavery's blanket and pacifier... and if you look, you will see its still attached to him, lol

So, point of the story is, were fertile... or "fertile mertile" as Hot Mama Gowns says, lol. We make babies and we make them fast... none of this "trying" nonsense... Im starting to wonder if this is just a little reality check... I've always been such a smart ass about getting pregnant... you know, things like... oh - zaq bumps into me in the hallway and I get pregnant... orrrr if he looks at me the right way I get pregnant. And now here I am 2 months into "trying" and I have a miscarriage and a period... im 0/2 and i'm not liking these odds. Now - I should say this... we are not like, "break out the calendar, thermometer, and lets make us a baby" trying. Were just doing the... "hey sex is fun and im not on birth control" kind of trying... and it is... fun that is ;) *sorry mom*
 I dunno... all in all this has been a very humbling experience. I never thought I would have to "try" to have a baby after the first two... and I remember growing up being afraid that I would be able to have kids... I've always loved kids, and if I had the money I would have like 10 of them... but maybe not? Maybe my body won't let me... maybe my body is telling me two is enough? OR maybe... I do have to really TRY? I have lots of friends... healthy, young friends trying to have kids and just aren't getting pregnant... it happens. It happens ALL the time and I am no different. And it really makes me appreciate those who are being so supportive. It's one thing to want something like a dream that seems out of reach... a million dollars... to be president... or an astronaut... but a mom seems like it should be such a simple process. You get married (or not till later in my case, lol), you go off BC, you make a baby... ta-da! BABY! Everyone knows where babies come from right? If not ask izzaq, he will tell you. So many people have to try for years to have a successful pregnancy... some pay thousands... tens of thousands of dollars to get a pregnancy... and some give up trying and adopt... I just don't know how far I would be willing to go... what if a year from now Im still trying... am I willing to pay someone to make it happen? I dunno... I know its only been two months and I feel selfish being pouty about it when some of you are probably laughing at me right now... I just didn't expect it...  I never even considered a miscarriage was a possibility... was just so excited to be pregnant, and now its gone... and here I am again with a most likely failed cycle 2... time to grab a bottle of wine and *cheers* to "third times a charm"...