Lupron shots are given to suppress your body from ovulating (since the clinic needs to manipulate the environment). 

The shots are making me a bit crazy and cranky. 

Not like I need an excuse, eh? 

I am getting my body ready for a baby who has been frozen in time and space. 

The funny thing is, every time the girls are at their MOST ANNOYING, my husband looks at me and says “So, you REALLLY want another now, huh?” and I laugh and say that G-D is testing me to see if I really do want another. 

Which I do. 

We are slowly introducing the girls to Mr. Potty. 

Their potties are green and shaped like a frog. 

You're going to do what in my where?

I wonder if when they get older, they will feel the need to “go” whenever they see a frog. 

I bought 2 of the same potties. 

I learnt to do this when I saw an episode of the now ill-fated life  of Jon & Kate. Kate was trying to potty train her kids, and they would fight about a specific color of potty. She said that she should have bought them all in the same color. 

I made a mental note when I saw that. 

So, they are excited about the actual potty, but not going in it per se. 

Any potty tips that I need to know? 

 ANYONE?

 I am also scared that it will work..

.. My sleep will get interrupted once again. I love sleep.

I worry that I will  gain a lot of weight and lose myself.

I worry about  possibly falling into a postpartum depression again.

I worry about my sanity, and  wonder if my fuse will be shorter with 3 children.

I worry that I am not as present as I could be with those beautiful little girls.

I worry about splitting my attention up with another child. I know they will feel it. I know they already do.

I worry about how our family dynamics may change if this cycle IS successful…

But then I see this…

And I remember why I am doing this again….

Now mind you, I didn’t actually have a scale the last 6 weeks while on hospital bed rest. I am just guess-timating.

When I tell people that I gained 60 lbs they usually say “Well, you did have twins” – to which I typically respond… “Yes, but they were preemies”

NO JOKE all I wanted to do was eat.

I was ALWAYS HUNGRY.

Which I assume is normal since I was carrying 2 babies.

Once I gave birth, it took me a while to lose weight.

I tried on my own and lost a few, then did Jen*ny Craig and lost a few more, then did Weight Wat*chers and lost the rest.

I have always been a very healthy eater.

Wait, scratch that… NOT ALWAYS.

I grew up in a household where limits were like mythical creatures…whispered in other homes, but not our own.

I ate AS much as I wanted.

My mom never told me “enough”.

So, if I wanted an ENTIRE BAG of cheese puffs… I would eat it

(and I’m not talking about individual bags either, I’m talking family size)

No one ever taught me what a serving size was.

As I went from a chubby child to a chubby teen… my weight really started to effect my confidence.

“If I were only skinny”, I thought to myself… “I could be happy.”

But as we all know, that’s not the reality of it all.

I started dating my husband at my heaviest.

He always loved me for me.

He didn’t have a problem with my weight.

I started accepting the fact that maybe I was just always going to be heavy.

Then when I was 22, I was told that I had a cyst the size of a grapefruit on my fallopian tube- and that it -along with my fallopian tube, needed to be removed.

I didn’t catch it because I was overweight.

My doctors said that I needed to lose weight.

I knew I needed to.

So I used the lack of appetite (post- surgery) as a jumping off point to start my diet.

Actually… it’s not a diet. It’s a “Lifestyle Change”

I learnt what a portion looked like, what to avoid, started exercising…

and the weight started dropping.

I lost about 30 lbs in 4 months.

People didn’t recognize me.

The compliments were coming from everyone.

Suddenly, I was getting attention that I never received before… and I wasn’t comfortable with it.

I never knew how much I used my weight as a shield… a shield to protect me from the world.

I would always blame everything on my weight.

But now, I couldn’t use that as an excuse anymore.

The thing about dropping a large amount of weight so quickly – is that your mind can’t catch up to your body as quickly. It took me a VERY long time to not see that distorted image in the mirror.

I went on to lose more weight (especially before my wedding), but eventually gained a few back and settled into where my body was comfortable.

I liked what I saw in the mirror.

I was comfortable in my skin.

I felt healthy.

Then I became pregnant and I used the twin pregnancy as an excuse to gorge again.

And gorge I did.

I would eat 2 bagels on “bagel Fridays” at work.

I mean, bagels are bad enough.. but to have two?

I ate A LOT.

This was something deeper than just being hungry.

I think when you have a hole in your soul, you try to fill it with things.

I do that now with clothes and pretty things. With shopping.

But I used to do it with food too.

Once I became pregnant and wasnt shopping anymore, the thing that filled that hole (if only temporarily) was food.

So far I have lost about 50 of those pounds, with the last 10 lbs that REFUSE to budge (unless I get a stomach bug of sorts)

It’s been a long road to get here again. A place where I feel comfortable in my skin.

I know that if and when I do become pregnant again, I will not allow myself to use the pregnancy as an excuse to gorge again. I need to understand why it is I have a deep hole in my soul. I need to know that filling it with food wont help me one bit.

I need to know and remember that what fills my soul are my little girls and husband.

My family.

I can’t promise that I wont have a bag of cheese puffs though… albeit an individual size!!

On Thursday morning, my husband and I went to our appointment at the fertility clinic. On the way there, it felt as though it was only yesterday that we drove that same exact way- down the same street.

Walking into the office, we were surrounded by MANY people sitting in the waiting room. At that moment, I realized just how different things really are since the last time we were there.

I remember the nerves, the worry…I remember being in their shoes.

I don’t feel like I am in their shoes any longer.

Yes, I need medical assistance to get pregnant.

But the worry and the pain… are no longer resting on my shoulders.

The hole in the pit of my stomach, the uncertainty….

what they feel….

no longer inside.

I have TWO daughters who are blessings from G-D.

And if I dont get another pregnancy… at least I know what it is like to grow a tiny human in my body (or in my case humans).

When we were called into the Doctor’s office, he smiled, and welcomed us back.

I asked him if I could give him a hug.

He said of course.

I hugged him tightly.

There is this amazing aura surrounding this man.

I’m not just saying that because he gave me the most incredible gift that this world can give.. motherhood…. I am saying that because there is something so angelic about him.

G-D works through him.

 And I feel it.

We spoke about our concerns and he agreed that we should only place one in.

The percentage of this working.. not as great as a fresh cycle… not as great as placing more than 1.

But here is hoping for the best.

I have been dreaming about being pregnant lately.

I usually dream of others pregnancies (before they even happen!), but not of my own. I doubt these dreams. I am not as confident as others may be. I dont know if it’s going to work.

He sent us into the ultrasound room to check my lady bits. Seems as though a uterus can shift after pregnancy. I never knew that… though it would make sense.

As we waited, my husband snapped this pic to document this new journey:

Thank G-D you can’t see my lady bits on camera.

Turns out my uterus DID shift, and he did some measurements to see if the blast could be successfully placed.

It can.

He then sent us to the IVF nurses. We were sitting in the downstairs waiting room, where you wait prior to your retrieval and transfer, and it was SO surreal being there again.

On the walls were thank you letters from patients.

I remember scanning the walls as I waited for my transfer 3 years ago… and it made me hopeful. Hey, if it worked for them… maybe it might work for me.

And it did.

This time around, as I looked at the letters… I came across a familiar one.

 My own.

“We walked into your office a couple… and now you have made us a family”… I didn’t even remember writing that, but no truer words were ever spoken.

I just hope this time around it works.

I start my meds today.

Let the journey begin!

For all of you who don’t know what Purim is, it’s pretty much like the “Jewish Halloween”. Go HERE to learn more about it.

The girls daycare center had a party this week where all the kids dressed up in costumes.

I happen to have a zillion costumes, so I decided to try them on the girls to see what would work.

Neve was not amused.

Oh The humanity!

She hated the feel of the dress, so I had an idea to use the tutu’s from their first birthday party and make them ballerinas…

Neve was NOT AMUSED:

Soleil on the other hand, was more than happy to try on her costume:

This just goes to show you that just because you were born with a sibling, doesn’t mean you are anything alike!

I took my camera to their daycare center on a very SNOWY NYC day so that I could capture these very fleeting moments…

This will be the girls last Purim at their daycare.

They love it there.

I know that as long as the girls are together, anywhere will be home.

So I have decided to share with the internetz (because I will need your good vibes).

I am currently starting my second round of IVF this week.

This time, it will be a frozen cycle.

The whole concept of a frozen cycle freaks me the hell out.

To think that all of the blasts (multi celled organisms that form a baby) were created at the same time and some stored away for future use, while 2 others were chosen to come into this world- FREAKS.ME.THE.HELL.OUT.

AHEM.

So technically, does that mean that they are all the same age- you know, my girls and these frozen babies?

I have 6 blasts in the freezer.

Not MY freezer (imagine if it were in my freezer, next to the frozen bagels and mac and cheese from 1989?)some state-of- the- art/ high-tech sub-zero something or other in my fertility clinic.

When I called the clinic to talk to them about coming in, I made it VERY CLEAR that I would only be having 1 placed.

As much as I would LOVE to have a million children (ok, 4) I know that:

a) My body is too weak to carry twins to full term- see archives Oct/ Nov 2007

b) I am not mentally prepared to have another set of twins.

c) Me have no $$ for 4 children. Not now anyway.

Now the rational side of me says ”Don’t do it. You have no money! You are moving to Israel because you can’t afford to pay for everything.” To that I say…”OK, Maybe… BUT”…

 I am lucky to work for a company that PAYS for fertility treatments. I have 6 frozen in storage which makes the process so much easier (mentally and physically).

We are also moving to a place where we wont have to worry about rent for a long time. I am NOT getting any younger (turning 29 this year- what kind of age is 29 ??Not here nor there) and these are 25-year-old eggs- so I best get on it now.

I kind of feel like it’s now or never.

I know it’s not going to be all rainbows and sunshine. To think that I may have 3 under 3 kind of scares me. Now imagine those 3 running around a farm- IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS!? HAZARDS everywhere-” look out for that peach orchard, oh no a plow!!” with one tired mommy, while daddy works to get a degree (which poor guy has taken him FOREVER). Plus- we will have SEVERAL sets of hands to help. We have one big amazing  extended family.

We have always wanted a big family with many children.

I can’t look back and say to myself “I could have had that 3rd child, but it wasn’t the right time”

I have learnt in my life that there is no such thing as THE RIGHT TIME.

It is always the wrong time.

But I will make it the right time.

You never regret what you did. You always regret what you didn’t do.

I grew up with an older brother. It was just us 2, and I always felt like something was missing. My brother and I aren’t very close..I always wanted more from him.. something I only learnt later.. that he wasn’t capable of giving.

I always dreamt of a sister, or a sibling who too would roll their eyes at my parents shenanigans. Someone from my own gene pool who would understand me.

My husband was so against the idea of having another one now.. but with some convincing from me and my aunts (while in Ireland-I will write about Ireland soon!)… he lifted his arms up in a way that indicated “Do what you want” – I love when he agrees with me (I just think he is too tired to argue with me- I can put up quite the fight).

I know that by putting 1 blast in, I am considerably lowering my chances of becoming pregnant… but again, I CANNOT  have twins again. There are some women who are built for that… I with no shame say: I am not one of those ladies.

So.

I go in to the clinic this Thursday with my husband.

We will meet with my doctor. The doctor who  made it possible for me to be a mother.

I will try not to bear hug him.

Then we will meet with my nurse to discuss meds/ dosage/ etc.

This is a process that will take about 4- 6 weeks.

I am nervous, scared, tired.

I’ve already started pre- natal vitamins.

To go through this again is stressful.

I truly hope this leads to another family member.

I miss that new baby smell.

But if it doesnt, well… I will still be  thankful.

After All… have you seen these little ladies?

Today is my 3 year blogging anniversary.

Looking  back, I realized just how much blogging has changed my life.

Three years ago, I was a young woman who couldn’t get pregnant.  I was scared that I might never have children.

Here I am 3 years later with two beautiful little girls who call me “Mommy” (the same little girls who stand next to me in silence in middle of the night in pitch darkness and scare the shit out of me).

This blog has been my therapy.

It really really has.

I have always found writing to be therapeutic. Even as a child, I liked using my diary to document my life. I wanted to be able to look back and remember a certain time and place that would have been long forgotten if not for the written proof.

For years I stopped writing.

I’m not even sure how I started a blog. I don’t exactly remember.

But I know that it has been one of the best most surreal experiences of my life.

I have made friends-DEAR DEAR friends via this outlet.

Women who I know in my heart of hearts that I will call my friends forever.

 Women who were there for me while I underwent IVF, through my difficult pregnancy and the very difficult birth of my daughters.

Women who got me through my first years as a mother.. holding my hand. Wiping my tears as I cried.

The community of bloggers….

A community I never even knew existed. A community who wrapped their arms around me. A community who told me that no, I was not alone. That they too had screwed up childhoods, or doubted their ability to parent….

I have learnt more about myself in these three years of blogging, through blogging, then I have in my29 years on this earth.

In 3 years , I have only received 1 Judgemental comment.

That alone should attest to the love that is within this community.

I witnessed how Bloggers and Blog Readers surrounded one of my very best friends when her daughter passed.

The love overwhelmed me.

And as I sit here and type …. I cry because even though my husband doesn’t get what a blog is…and 99% of the people in my life have no idea that I even have one… I know just how much I have gained from this outlet.

I don’t use my name in this blog because I put it ALL out there.

I don’t filter.

I don’t want to filter.

I want to be real and I am scared that I wont be able to be if everyone knows about my blog.

I have no idea how you got here, or why you read my blog… but I want to thank you.

Thank You for the support.

Thank You for the love.

Thank You for being a witness to my life.

I hope you stick around for the rest of my journey.

XOXO,

Gemini-Girl

It was a lot of fun just running around being free.

I grew up in New York and didn’t have much of  a backyard… actually, I didn’t have one at all. I longed to run wild and free, so every summer while in Israel, I got my chance.

I remember on one particular day, I was playing with a neighbor who was just around my age. She had older brothers who would play with us as well.

I remember one of her brothers was 12 years old.

I don’t recall too much about what happened, but I do remember sitting on the steps with him- while he confessed that he liked me as more than just a friend. Some sort of emergency sensor went off in my brain. I knew that it was WRONG. He was 12, and I was 6.

Sure, I was in love with Fred Savage who was 12 at the time- but that was a crush.

This pre- teen wanted me to be his” secret girlfriend”. I remember running back to my grandparents house after rambling off some excuse to him about missing an animated program of sorts.

This got me thinking about growing up in a city.

I guess when you are brought up in a city, you don’t have too many opportunities to find yourself being  inappropriately propositioned. Our house was an iron wall- no one was to get in or out. My mother did a VERY good job and teaching us to pay attention to strangers and their motives.

When I was 9, my mom was very sick and couldn’t pick me up from the bus stop. I remember having to walk home by myself, and a strange man LITERALLY asked me if I wanted candy. Literally. He opened his palm and showed me candy. I ran away from him quickly. Of course, he may have just actually wanted to share some candy with me. Who knows.

Then there was the store keep who always smiled and winked at me. I knew it wasn’t in a friendly way. You sort of sense sinister from a mile away. I was 8. I remember telling my mother how it made me feel uncomfortable when he did that, and she like a mama bird protecting her young pounced upon him and warned him to not do it again. His excuse in broken english was ” No, I have sons and I wanted to possibly set her up with them when they all got older” - UMM NOT AN EXCUSE PERV. I WAS 8.

So now that we are moving to a big, open community- I worry. I worry that there may be undercover predators who are willing and waiting in the wings to harm my young. I will do  my best to teach them about the bad in people (as well as the good) and to ALWAYS trust their guts and remain alert. I hope I manage to do a good job at this, just as my mother did with me.

 How do you plan on teaching your kids about evil people?

I am sick and tired of always being the one to lift everyone else up.

Who the fuck is around to lift me up?

I have been the sole bread-winner in my household for some time now and I am tired.

I am tired and fed up.

 I REFUSE to allow more time to go by where all I do is work, not see my kids- all for what? For more fucking roadblocks in my husband’s education?

I can’t do it anymore.

So we decide on Israel and he has “doubts” he’s “scared”

Yes, we’ve been over this.

I  lift him up daily only to have to give him the positive, rainbow- filled, speech EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.

I am tired.

My neck and shoulders are sore.

I feel like my insides are eating away at me.

I’m scared too, but who is there for me to tell me it will be OK?

Certainly NOT my husband. He’s too busy cowering in the corner, clutching on to his “doubts” and “scary scenarios”.

I tell him we can’t stay here- WE CAN’T PAY THE RENT DAMN IT. What the fuck else are we suppose to do?

If he wants to go to school and have a career- this is the only way to do it.

I can’t always be the strong one.

I just can’t.

Then it was Atlanta, where we could totally make a go of it on one income.That was scratched as well when we realized that we would have no safety net.

But this time it’s different.

We are really moving to Israel.

I’ve been feeling so conflicted about it.

When we took the girls to Israel when they were 6 months old to meet their family, we kind of mentally assessed the living/lifestyle there. We liked it. It was different this time around because now we had a family. It was such a wonderful place to raise a family. We were engulfed by so much love it was overwhelming. It really feels nice when you receive love when you didnt know just how much it was missing.

So for my girls, I know it is the right move.

My husband also looked into a school which is known to be the “Harvard of Israel” and will work VERY HARD to get accepted into that school. It is not easy to get accepted there, but once in – he can pretty much have any position he applies for. Just knowing that he might  have a chance in that school is lifting his spirits.

His brother called him last night and tried to convince him to stay in America. Says that it would be a waste to lose all the credits he’s acquired so far. You know what I think? I think his brother is a douche who only thinks about himself. He knows damn well that we don’t have much of a choice. His brother is also the kind of guy that ONLY thinks of himself (even before his wife and children) so I know that by us moving back home, he is worried that we will somehow take his share of things (land, etc).

 He can suck it.

 Oh, and by the way- did I mention I am moving to a farm?

Yes folks- that’s right.

“Farm Living is the life for me….”- singing that in a za za gabor voice

This should be interesting.

Me and my high heels.

I don’t like dirt and my girls will be COVERED in it.

But at least I will know that they are having fun.

I can always hose them down outside.

I broke the news to my OVERLY DRAMATIC mother who happen to take the news surprisingly well. She knows its the best thing for us right now. It felt so out of left field to hear that from her.

On Thursday, we have an appointment with the Israeli Embassy.

I guess we will be much smarter then.

***

This weekend was spent cleaning out our closets (no small feat since we are hoarders) and it was NOT PRETTY. We threw out soooooooooo much unneccessary crap. We needed to throw a lot of things out because we are hauling our crap over via shipping container, and the more stuff you have – the pricier it is!

Box taken from apt building's basement- don't judge.

It feels therapeutic to let go of stuff.

Things I threw out:

• Autographed Pictures of” Actors” who were on the soap Passions.
• A poster board that I stole from props when I was an extra on Mad About You. What- I never told you about that?
• My headshots from 1998 when I tried (and failed) to be an actress.
• A painting that I made when I was 16 that was ALL BLACK with a tiny person huddled in the fetal position on the ground. Teen Angst much?
• SCRAPBOOKS. so many scrapbooks.
• Poems from the teen years. I will totally scan them one day. I promise. One the lines may or may not be “At Night I cry into my pillow so tight”

I could go on.

But I wont because I love you all too much.

What kind of random stuff have you found cleaning out your house?