Archives For April 2013





Thank you Emojis for always helping us express the emotions that come along with crazy ass hormones.  This is your weekly dose of Author M and Author S text messages.  


January 2012

Oh, is your teddy bear sick? What’s wrong with him? Does he need to see a doctor?”

Yes, he has a booboo on his arm.”

Well, then, you’re in the right place. Walk right into my office here and I’ll see what I can do for him.”

The Teddy Bear Clinic happens once or twice a year at our hospital, and I happened to have volunteered this year to minister to various bears, dinosaurs, barbie dolls, GI Joes, etc. that had suffered random (and often creative) mishaps. Children from the neighborhood bring their inanimate friends in for “booboos”, coughs, runny noses, tumors, amputations (I’m not kidding)…you know, typical emergencies that might befall a stuffed animal. In any case, it was a good cause: trying to get children to feel more comfortable in the hospital. I think those kids are actually too smart to fall for the charade. In reality, they’re just playing along with us idiot adults. But, hey, I’m not about to point this out to Admin.

That day, I tried to keep a straight face as these kids directed my attention to the assorted ailments I needed to address. At the back of my mind, however, was the nagging thought that my period was late. Also at the back of my mind, but perhaps less farther back, was the realization that I was kind of hoping that I was pregnant. Was it the room full of kids? The adorable (and occasionally maimed) stuffed animals? Hormones? Lack of caffeine? I’m not sure. The husband and I had sort of, kind of started trying a month ago, with no realistic expectation of getting pregnant right away. We had read the statistics and whatnot and knew it could take 3-4, maybe even 6 months. Not to mention I’m in my mid-30s, so there are some stale eggs in here. However, I like to pride myself on the very fertile women from which I descend. No one has ever had any difficulty conceiving in my extended family. And I’ve got the same wide, “please-fertilize-me” hips they all have/had. So…this should be a piece of cake, right?

-Author S-


Oh the things you think about while laying on your back… mainly I was thinking about how I ended up in this position.  It had been two weeks since my husband and I decided it was time to kick out the plastic T-shaped squatter occupying the space within my uterus.  We had been married one year but I was already 34 years old and my husband even older.  The number 35 was hurdling towards me like a shot put.  I mean after 35 means more risk to me and more risk to a kid.  We’re talking needles in the belly, genetic testing, preterm labor.  Not to mention the slowing of my metabolism which was already becoming a pain in the ass – I mean if it’s so hard to lose weight pre-pregnancy, how hard would it be if I was 38 and trying to lose baby fat?  Scary.  All of it was scary.  But this was the beginning to the journey.  One thing I did know was that it was going to involve more days and nights laying on my back and thinking about all sorts of things.  But making a baby is fun right?  
So here I was two weeks after our big decision and I had just had a conversation while laying on my back that involved the words “Pull it out!”  It’s what I yelled to my gynecologist as she yanked the IUD out of my barren uterus.  And POP! Out it came in a quick second.  
And just like that it was official:  no one was manning the fort any longer.  My ute was unarmed and unprotected.  Time to let the enemy through the gates. 

Love Author M


An Idea is Born…

April 25, 2013 — Leave a comment

One year ago the two of us acquaintances sat at an outdoor cafe slightly awkwardly together, thrown together by circumstance.  A “girls night out” with our colleagues turning into two girls hanging out on a pseudo-date having drinks and hors d’ouevres (to be fancy) together.  Out of the 6 girls who were to attend this event, we were the only two to show.  So we made the most of a nice day in Chicago, (since there are only like 60 of those in a year), and tried to make conversation and see if a second date would be in order at another time.

Luckily convo was easy – enough in common we lived in the same neighborhood, had the same careers, liked to eat and drink.  Somewhere between bitching about our jobs and bitching about our husbands came up the big topic of… BABIES.  Suddenly we both realized that we were in the same boat, paddling upstream trying to conceive am embryo with our respective husbands.  An embryo that might one day turn into a baby that would scream and cry and poop and pee.

Many more dates of eating and drinking and bitching later, with many subsequents confessionals to one another we realized that the art of babymaking is not easy and at times pretty comical.  A few months later, of course over food, drink, and our favorite fireplace at our favorite tavern was born the idea of documenting our adventures and misadventures.

So let’s start at the beginning shall we?

Love:  S&M