Today is my 32nd birthday and I spent some time this morning going through old photo albums.  It was fun reminiscing…

Ever since I can remember, my cousin Chanda and I were pretty darn close. I so adored her as a kid (and now, of course). It was fun looking back on pictures that captured some of that connection. She’s a couple years older than I am, but I don’t remember ever realizing that as a kid. I’m sure she probably thought I was a big baby sometimes– always whining when my step-brother picked on me. She never failed to stick up for me though. She was the biggest reason I loved going to my dad’s house in the summer or on holidays, and she’s part of many of my favorite childhood memories. I still get a giggle when I think about how we used to try to sneak cigarette puffs out the window as teenagers, or how she tried unsuccessfully to make me into a cheerleader when I was in 8th grade. I had 2 left feet, no coordination, and was the tallest and lankiest girl who tried out for the squad. Thanks for trying, Chanda!

I was thinking about the awesome memories of my dad when I was a youngster. He was always sweet to me and, though we never were very close, I love him dearly. My favorite memory with him is from the age of 5. He took me and my stepbrother to the water slide but I was too little (or too scared) to go down the water slide by myself. He didn’t bring swimming trunks and was dressed in jeans, but he wanted me to have a good time too. So he took me down the slide while wearing his jeans! When we got to the bottom, he didn’t lift me out of the water and I went under. I got a nose full of water and cried (woosy). He didn’t make too much of a fuss, though I’m guessing he was probably irritated that he got wet, sticky jeans for nothing. I love you for trying, Dad. In every aspect.

The most important person in my life as a child was my mom, of course. Oh I loved her. She was bright and funny and silly and fun loving. She was so nurturing and lovable too. I I can’t think of anyone I’d rather get a birthday call from today. It’s rather weird and surreal turning the age she was when she died. I could never imagine, as a child, being the same age as the last memory I have of her… if that makes any sense. I loved our days on the Charleston sand… Sharing bowls of Breyer’s Mint Chocolate Chip Ice cream… Smelling her perfume and watching her put on her makeup. She made adulthood seem so glamorous and exciting. I cherish the 12 years I was blessed to have with her. When it was just us against the world.

When I was 10, I was always getting picked on by a pack of boy bullies in the neighborhood. One day I came up with a brilliant plan to set them straight. Mom always told me to stick up for myself, even if that meant getting into trouble with my teachers. I knew I couldn’t beat those boys up, but I was smarter than they were. I took a dozen eggs, a concoction of spices, and some mayo and brewed up some stink bombs. I poured the stinky brew into zip lock bags and set them out in the hot Charleston sun to await my revengeful day. A few days later, I got the bags and carefully poked holes in the tops so that when I threw them at the boys, they would unleash my stinky revenge. But I couldn’t keep secrets from my mom, and when I told her my plan, she made me throw the bags in the trash. You can imagine how mad she was with me when they leaked in the trashcan and grew maggots after a few days. Yucky!

I have so many fantastic memories of my mom that I HAVE to start sharing. It would be healthy for me to start thinking about that good stuff, because there was a lot of that in my childhood. My birthday resolution will be to tell you more of those stories.

Here’s me and my momma, pretty as she could be. I love these next two pics because we were dressed alike.

She is the reason I’m a good momma. She taught me how to do this. I love what she gave me.

But these memories aren’t complete without Nana. She was the apple of my eye as a kiddo. She was so feminine and beautiful. She reminded me of Sophia Lorren, so graceful and ladylike. I remember sitting in the back of her fancy big Monte Carlo with leather seats, imagining that I was a movie star riding around town with my starlet Matriarchs. Mom got her good looks from Nana, they both had a way of making men stop in their paths. Nana never left the house without makeup and designer clothes. And that’s not what made her classy or special. No, it was her attractive personality, and her spunk, and her thoughtful ways. She loved taking care of people. She’s 78 years old and still as beautiful as ever– but what’s more amazing is how giving and warm she is. She’s grown sweeter with age. I can relate to her more than I ever could– perhaps because I’ve grown up, or maybe because we’ve both grown softer on the edges. I’m thankful for my childhood loving her.

Just watch out for her shoulder pads. They might poke your eye out…

I’ve lived a great life so far— full of beautiful memories. Even better yet, I was given a wonderful adulthood with a loving, healthy, amazing little (ummm, big?) family that ADORES me. My heart is full. Here’s to another 32 birthdays, or more if I can get them. Also, lots and lots of cake to go with all those candles.

Did I jinx myself ALREADY!?

I cut off my caffeine intake as my friend Jenny suggested in the comments yesterday. I’ve been eating healthy. I’ve been completely stress free.

But today I am cramping a bit and haven’t had a lick off nausea. But my boobs are killing me. That’s good, right?

Ugghhh. The waiting game…

I can’t believe it myself. But guess what? I’m pregnant again!

This will be my 10th, and last, pregnancy. I don’t think my heart, soul, or body need to try again after this. I’m trusting this pregnancy to God and will embrace and be grateful for whatever comes. I have a beautiful life, and if it’s in the plan for this pregnancy to bring us our 4th child, I’m going to be so thankful and happy. But after this, whether it ends with a baby or not, I’m getting the old tubes tied, soldered, snipped, glued, and perhaps even run over by an 18 wheeler. Ten pregnancies is quite enough for one lifetime.

So I don’t want you to feel bad if I have to write in in a few weeks and share that I miscarried. This is just a possibility, and I’ve learned to just be comfortable with whatever happens— mostly because I was blessed enough to be given the beautiful babes I have. They are gorgeous, amazing, and bright babies. There’s nothing more a woman could possibly want.

I’ve got 4 more weeks before I’m “in the clear” and can just sit back and enjoy my pregnancy without fear of loss. All of my miscarriages have happened before the 9th week of gestation. So, if I go in for my 10 week appointment and get to hear or see a little heartbeat, I’m fairly confident that everything is going to go well.

After 10 pregnancies, I can usually tell whether a pregnancy is a healthy one. With all of my pregnancies that ended in miscarriages, I wasn’t nauseated. With my 3 successful pregnancies, I was quite nauseated. I am already quite nauseated this time. That’s a great sign!

I’m sharing this on my blog because I need to talk about it. I’ve spent most of my pregnancies keeping quiet about it during the 1st trimester because I didn’t want to count my chicks before they hatched. I had gotten to a point where I actually superstitiously thought I had been jinxing myself by telling people I was pregnant before the 12th week, causing my own miscarriages. Now I know that’s just silliness. And I also know that it’s good for me to be able to talk about it– to be congratulated– to celebrate another pregnancy and not assume it’s doomed before it even has a chance to begin.

I used to have an old fashioned and superstitious opinion on 1st trimesters– Don’t even mention a pregnancy before the 12th week. But, this isn’t the 50’s anymore when women had to be embarrassed if they miscarried, or feel like half of a woman if they failed to carry the pregnancy to the end. We know that it’s not a reflection of a woman’s health or lifestyle if they lose a pregnancy. It’s just something that happens, and often for a reason that we’ll never know or understand. It’s amazing how painful something so natural can be. But I don’t want to feel broken because I miscarry anymore, I did for so long. I don’t want other women who miscarry to feel that either. It’s a painful experience, whether it happens once or 6 times. The heart is an amazing, resilient thing.

Women who have miscarried once, or six times, or 15 times– they are some Tough Cookies. I wish all of those women, with their resilient and hopeful spirits, lots and lots of morning sickness and sore bosoms. Here’s to the second chances, and the tenth ones too…

Hi guys! I wanted to write and let y’all know that I have to take a bloggy break for a couple of weeks. My computer crashed last night and I’m shipping it off to Office Depot for repairs. They (Office Depot) aren’t quick either– they take their time. I’ll try to use the library computer to post here and there if I can…

I’ll miss ya, but I’ll be back!