You had to see this one coming!  Andrew has his very own blog!  Technically it is a family blog, but it is all about him right now, of course :-)

Feel free to marvel at the cuteness!

http://thecatalanos.blogspot.com/

My son is only 10 days old, but he is already growing so much!  Proof came yesterday at his very first doctor's appointment (with his doctor, not the stupid on-call pediatrician at the hospital who kept me from bringing my baby home when I wanted to).  He weighed in an astounding 13 ounces more than his coming home weight.  All breastmilk, all the time :-D  Go mommy milk!  He also grew 1/2 an inch as well.  In only 1 week's time.

He also amazed the chiropractor yesterday (FTR, we *heart* our chiro) by performing his astounding "holding my head up" trick.  Yes, my ten day old child is already holding up his head for extended periods of time and smiling as well.  Our chiropractor just looked at me and said, "That is really early."  Yep, that's my kid.

Don't worry, once I get a few free minutes Andrew will probably have his own blog with tons of updates and pictures of all the awesomeness that is my son.

So I totally missed posting about my anniversary (August 25th BTW).  It was so laid back this year and we've both been so insanely busy that I didn't even think to post on it!  Bad wife!

That is not to say we didn't celebrate our anniversary.  We did, two days early in fact and I have a pretty new watch to prove it.

It's kinda hard to believe the things that have happened since our last anniversary.  We finally became pregnant, lost that baby and, thank God, got pregnant again.  We're just a mere 8 weeks from the due date of our son.  We've come to a place financially where I can quit my job and stay at home with the little one. 

It's been an exciting year and I can't wait to see what the next year (or twenty or thirty) hold for us.  I'm glad that despite everything we stuck it out.  We may have had a rocky past, but I fully believe we're going to have an awesome future.

Another year older.

Wow, what a year it's been.  How funny that last year at this time I was so naive and full of hope that within our first six months of trying to conceive we'd be successful.  I was certain I'd be celebrating my next birthday with a baby.

So much happened.  So much heartache and loss.  But a lot of good things too.  I learned who was really there for me.  I learned who really cared for me.  I learned that I am not alone in my pain and because of my loss I can reach out to more women who suffered with fertility issues and pregnancy loss.  I count that as a blessing in a way to be able to relate to others about such an emotional experience.  Trust me, no one can understand the pain of a negative pregnancy test until they've seen it repeatedly.  No paint company can duplicate how stark white that can be.  And no one can understand how much you can love a child you just found out you were carrying and how badly losing that child can hurt until they've been robbed of that joy.

I don't mean this to be a pity party blog or a "woe is me" post, I just mean to say that I feel I've grown and changed more in the past year than ever before and I am okay with the things that caused it.  I'd love to be hugely pregnant with my first rather than having lost him, but I am at peace with the loss and hope that with my fertility problems and miscarriage I am able to help another woman through their own pain.

Yep, I'm a big kid now

Not many people that I know have been privy to the struggle and heartache involved in the conception of this little baby.  The majority of people I know, in fact the majority of my family, conceive with incredible ease.  There are several "oops" babies in our family.  I, however, broke the mold.

But going through a long period of actively trying (and by actively trying I mean charting, taking tons of vitamins, the works), undergoing fertility testing, taking medicine to conceive, taking medicine to sustain this pregnancy has made me a different person.  Losing my previous pregnancy definitely made me a different person.

Going into this I didn't think I'd get pregnant right away, but I certainly didn't think it would take this long either.  I didn't think I'd lose a baby.  I didn't think I'd have to be given fertility medicine.  I was naive.

Through all that, I have to say I feel fortunate in some ways.  I am not by any means happy to have had to walk this long, rocky road.  I am not happy to have lost a baby that in the short time it was within me meant the world to me.  But I count myself fortunate to be able to relate to others better.  I feel fortunate that although getting here was hard, it has made me appreciate every single aspect of this pregnancy and will make me appreciate my baby more than I could ever imagine. 

I'm in a mood.  A very, very weird mood.

Rarely in my life am I at a loss for words.  Sometimes it is a bad thing because my mouth can, and has, gotten me in to trouble.  Numerous times.

If the verbal form fail me, I can always express myself through written word.  I love the written word, whether I am the author or someone else.  Both reading and writing have consumed a large portion of my life since I was 3 years old and learned how to do both.

But my mood, it is caused by a quandry I am in.  I want to say something to someone.  Since writing is most definitely my strong suit, I composed an entire letter to them, spelling out how much I love them, how much they mean to me, how I am hurting, how I am angry and how I need them to be there for me.

And I am trying to figure out if sending it is even worth it.

So in the decade of silence that stretched between my brother and I, he, apparently, became Mr. Hockeyman.  He is in love with the sport, is an awesome, champion and MVP winning goalie and knows practically everything about it!

Then there is me, the sister who has worn ice skates once in her life (and that once was nearly twenty years ago) without much success - i.e. I fell on my booty numerous times.

My brother told me, repeatedly, that when he came to visit me for Christmas, he was going to teach me to skate.  I was terrified, but agreed, with the stipulation that he wouldn't let me fall.

An hour and many muscle cramps later, I (kinda) knew how to skate!!  Luckily for me I have a very protective and loving brother.  As promised, I did not fall.  I had such a blast!!  The coolest thing was that he left skates with me.  The downside is he expects me to practice and be able to do it much better the next time he comes to visit.

All I care about is the fact there will be a next time

I love Christmas, I love the entire holiday season.  I love everything from Thanksgiving to New Year's Eve.  I especially love this year because my nephew will be with me for Christmas Eve...  his very first Christmas Eve ever.

But more than having the baby with me, more than the lights, more than the decorations I am so proud of, I love getting a Christmas card from my brother.  I love it because I don't ever remember getting a card from him.  Ever.  For anything. 

And I love it because I am a sappy mush pile and love my brother

Typically I am not a typical woman.  By that I mean, most of my friends complain about cleaning their homes, cooking, baking, grocery shopping, etc.  Not me.  I actually love to clean my house (did somebody say OCD?) because I love how my house looks when I am done.  I especially love vacuuming.  My living room looks like a whole new room when I am done.  And then the fantastic decorating job I have done shines through

But I hate laundry.  I hate it with a passion that defies all logic or reason.  I hate sorting clothes (which I have to do in spite of the sectioned clothes hamper I bought because my husband is incapable of using it correctly).  I hate carrying them downstairs.  I hate repeatedly filling the washing machine.  I hate transferring them to the dryer.  I hate folding them.  I hate trying to find room in my closets and dressers for them.

I hate folding laundry.

Can you guess what I have spent all freaking day doing??

Please hold on.  I will continue to believe in a miracle.  I will continue to pray for you.  I need you to stay in this family because I need to know this family.