Gooey Butter Cake hits the big time

If you have ever lived in St Louis you KNOW gooey butter cake.

It's the world's most perfect trashy food.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the July issue of Martha and saw our very own gooey butter cake right there on page 26. (Admittedly I have not tried the version they are hyping.)
There are plenty of recipes for gooey butter cake out there, including this rather "posh" version at Smitten Kitchen.

But there is no need to go crazy. This is not a posh cake.

Here's my favorite version:
GOOEY BUTTER CAKE

1 box yellow cake mix (I prefer whatever brand has "butter recipe golden" on the box)
2 eggs
1 stick softened margarine
1 tsp vanilla

Mix ingredients. Grease and flour 9X13 pan and spread mixture. (Will be very thick)

Topping

1 8oz cream cheese brick (no low fat, whipped, organic, half fat stuff here ladies)
2 eggs
1 box powder sugar (I think 1 - 1.5 cups is sufficient)
1 tsp vanilla

Place over top of batter. Bake at 350 for 30 to 35 minutes. Sprinkle with powdered sugar once removed. (In my crazy oven I have to cook it for 35 mins at 350 degrees then another 15 minutes at 325 degrees. You want the middle part set up like a cheesecake, not wobbly like jello.)

Yummy.

Then guard this thing with your life if your family is full of hummingbirds. (I am looking at you Jack, you sugar fiend.)

If you don't have the July issue yet, you should. You will not be disappointed. There are cute honeycomb crafts and tablecloths!!! The Florida one on the table here is to die for cute.

Now if only I could go to a yard sale...

I better go have another piece of gooey butter cake instead.

:-)

Oh, how sweet of you

Oh, how sweet of you to bring me a gift when my spirits are low.
But what is IT that you brought? Oh Lord, is that POOP? Please tell me you didn't leave poop on the porch.

Farm peaches or magazines or flowers or magic dusting fairies would have done quite nicely.
Although I appreciate the care you took in lining it up so nicely on that paper towel, really, you shouldn't have.

(When I looked out the window yesterday I saw this on the porch and I swear I thought someone had left a pile of poop on the porch. Really it is just core samples from the lawn, left by the lawn guy for David. I could have done without that nasty looking gift first thing in the morning though! LOLOLOL)

Making me smile

I send Jack out to the mailbox every afternoon and one day last week he was distracted by the bees in the clover. So he laid himself down in the yard watching them for awhile (and I think he was thinking of catching one!) and then picked me a clover flower bouquet.

On a side note, I had Dave take this photo and it reminds me of just how much work taking blog photos is. I would have cleaned off the water spots on the siding, made sure the glass was on a clean (non Jack painted) part of the bench, then carefully arranged the flowers.

I knew there was a reason blogging seems challenging sometimes! LOL

Not making me smile:
Constant, persistant nausea for 2 days. What gives? Ugh. It feels about 50% better this morning, but I still feel it kind of lurking there.

I threw up non stop with Jack and I consider it a major blessing that there has been no barf this time.

I am really hoping to keep it that way. Oy.

Back from the doctor, again

This week has had it's share of ridiculous moments. It started with being utterly dumbfounded when the previous OB's office called after receiving the request to transfer my records to DEMAND payment on a bill that hasn't even been billed yet. (WTH?)

Oh yea, and to ask just what my issue with their office was.

Sigh. Do they really want to go there with me right now?

Anyway, I trotted myself off to the OB again today and waited almost 2 hours* (under a paper towel, I might add, lol) to find good news.

My hemorrhage that was several times as big as the baby last week has receded a LOT. It is now only about half as big as the baby. (A baby which was waving it's little arms at me today. Amazing that you can feel not at all pregnant, not look pregnant and have a little being in there with arms and legs and fingers and the whole 9 yards.)

This is truly wonderful news. And it means that I no longer have "threatened abortion" scrawled on the front page of my chart.

Off the red list! (But still on house arrest.)

Woooofreakinghoooo.

Of course, there is *still* a hemorrhage, but it's much less worrisome and I can wait two whole weeks before going to the doctor again.

Two weeks.

Whoa.

For the first time since seeing that tiny flickering heart I have hope that there is going to be a baby at the end of this road.

I really, really want to thank all of you for your prayers and good thoughts. I truly believe that your holding the baby and I in the light are helping us get through this. Please continue to do so?

* I don't care how long I have to wait really. If *I* were the patient with an emergency I would want everyone else to wait. And Lord knows, *I* have been the problem more often than not. Problems with babies and pregnant women wait for no one. I do, however, feel a little weird sitting around naked for hours in an office. Nothing like reading People magazine while wearing a paper towel. LOLOLOL

Jonesing

I am seriously experiencing junking withdrawal.
It's summertime and I am usually out there pounding the pavement while the cicada's sing their love song.
Instead, I am living vicariously through the rest of you.
But I am going to have request that you all stop posting fabulous junk! LOL
Can't you post pictures of your dust bunnies instead? :-)

Three weeks of house arrest down, up to 30 weeks to go. Oy.

P.S. I miss the swimming pool too.

P.P.S. I think I should hang those lanterns from the living room ceiling. Just for fun.

I am meaner than this.

Had my recheck at the OB today.

The baby is moving (heart breakingly awesome that was) and growing but that giant ass hemorrhage is not disappearing despite a lot of bleeding the last two days.

The OB's prognosis is "guarded but optimistic". I can live with that.

In fact, it gives me hope. Changing docs was a good move.

I've been warned that I have approximately TWO CUPS of blood in there that has to come out somehow, which of course, freaks me out.

But today I am going to allow myself some hope.

I am going to start believing that this baby and I are meaner than this.

Getting Jack here was the hardest thing I have ever done, and I did it. He was a fiesty little thing, even from the get go.

I can do it again.

I CAN do it.

I can overcome the fear and anxiety and the darkness of some of these days.

I am meaner than this.

I can do this.

Right?

Reeling

Those of you on facebook already know we had a metric ton of drama go down over here yesterday.

Yesterday morning I had what was supposed to be my first actual scheduled OB appt. I had already mentioned to Dave over the weekend that I was feeling apprehensive about it, because through everything that has happened in the last 14 months I had not ONCE made it to an actual scheduled appt.

I was feeling so nervous that I asked David to go with me, even though I have been doing a lot of this alone so he can work.

I had convinced myself that if everything was okay on that morning's ultrasound that I was going to let myself believe I was pregnant and start getting on with getting on.

Almost immediately the OB could not find a heartbeat on Baby B. Additionally there was a worrying area that appeared to be a huge hemorrhage.

I was immediately transferred to the maternal/fetal specialist in the same office where I proceeded to spend the WORST 2.5 hours of my life.

His sonographer did determine that baby B had died sometime over the weekend, but he didn't seem to give two craps about my dead baby or frankly my still alive baby.

Instead he started going on and on about cornual pregnancies and the live baby only having a 50% chance of living and uterine ruptures and blood transfusions and HYSTERECTOMIES for God's sake.

I could very clearly tell that in his mind he was already in the operating room, terminating the only baby I have left in a much wanted, very hard fought pregnancy.

My head was spinning and I thought I was going to both pass out and throw up all at once.

And then they just sent us on our way, telling us to wait a week and see what happens. WTF? Go home and wait for my uterus to rupture and my last baby to die??

Once I stopped hyperventilating and crying my eyes out, my gut started saying to call the OB who had delivered Jack.

I am not sure I would have even thought of him, but a few weeks ago I turned on the morning news on a rare morning and saw him on the news discussing fertility. He's now running a big fertility clinic out here.

Fate, I say.

I had valid reasons for not going back to him when I decided I wanted another baby, but my pregnancy with Jack was a very difficult, very scary one, and Dave and I both agree that when you are "in the fox hole" he is the man you want on your side.

His office staff was very friendly and told me to come in yesterday afternoon. So yesterday afternoon Dave and I spent another 2 hours waiting to see him. (His practice is insanely busy, and the wait is always atrocious, part of the reason I switched. It's hard to spend that much time waiting when I have Jack now.)

We met in his office for a few minutes around 5 30 last night to discuss what has been going on with me, where I was VERY frank about freaking the hell out after the maternal/fetal specialist appt that morning.

His response to hearing about the dead twin and the threats of my imminent demise due to uterine rupture were met with an "OMG, go to the ultrasound room immediately", and he had nurses start shifting patients all over the place to have a look in there.

His opinion is that the position of Baby A looks fine. The huge subchorionic hemorrhage is indeed worrying, and definitely is threatening the baby. But he suspects I got to this point by not having the MTHFR managed aggressively enough. And it's too late to change that management.

So. I have had a big switch up in my vitamin/progesterone regimen. And I have been told to move around instead of lying around in the hopes of encouraging that pocket of blood to get moving a bit. And he will see me in THREE little days to see what's happening.

Of course I am still worrying myself insane. At this point I have a 9 week fetus in there. 9 weeks is incredibly far for me to have come given this past year's experiences.

He assures me that even if the worst happens there is plenty of hope for me.

BUT PLEASE PLEASE do not let that big bad thing come for me again.

I am clearly nearing the end of my emotional reserves and the loss of one of the babies yesterday was very hard to swallow. Between that and sitting in waiting rooms full of pregnant woman all the time I am fairly sure I will only be fit for a padded cell here shortly. And Dave is not far off.

Keep thinking of us, okay?

Iowa quilt barns

I really meant to show you these photos more than a month ago, after we got back from Iowa.

I am, of course, totally smitten with quilt blocks on barns. We have some in Missouri too, up the river where my Dad lives.




What a charming way to celebrate quilters, eh?

I am starting to go stir crazy over here. The bleeding has stopped (perhaps on it's own, perhaps thanks to the progesterone, which makes me feel like ass), but I am still riding the couch.

I have another appointment on Monday where I hopefully will see that Thing 1 and Thing 2 (as I have taken to thinking of the babies) are still wriggling around and growing appropriately.

My mind is just too preoccupied to do any sewing or other crafting while I am sitting on the couch, hence the stir crazy. If all goes well on Monday perhaps I can convince myself this *is* okay and find something to do with myself!

In the meantime I'll be here. Watching a gazillion hours of horrible television.

And living vicariously through all of you as you go berry picking and swimming and garage saling (and bring home all that fabulous junk!).

Blah! :-)

Digging Deep

Things are still crazy over here. I have been bleeding a lot since Saturday, but another ultrasound shows the babies are still hanging in there and growing. Reportedly my risk of loss has gone dramatically down, but neither the OB nor the perinatologist has any idea why I am bleeding so much.

So, the wee ones and I are riding the couch for awhile.

I am digging deeper than I ever have before, looking for enough faith to believe we ARE going to make it through this.

I had a crazy long time with bedrest when I was pregnant with the Jack attack, so that part I know I can do.

Keeping the anxiety in check is harder, but I am managing better than I thought I would be.

I have had to re-enroll Jack in preschool because 1) I am unable to really entertain him properly and 2) I am spending an insane amount of time in doctor's offices and hospitals.

He is really quite upset about that, but I am hoping he gets over it quickly.

What good is being home when mama can't even go to the swimming pool? (I was too scared to go before anyway. This is TMI, but once you have had a blood gushing experience while pregnant the last place you want to go is to a pool filled with small children. It wouldn't make nice memories for any of us.)

So. Things will likely be sparse and quiet around here for a bit.

Now back to the couch with me, I have two babies to try and grow. :-)

Holy.crap.

I had a lot of bleeding this morning.

I freaked the hell out.

I called the emergency number for the OB and he had them make me an appointment at the hospital again.

This morning there are TWO babies in there.

Two beating hearts.

The ultrasound girls cried.

The radiologist came in to make sure.

Me and Dave?

FREAKING OUT.

Two babies.

One measuring 7 weeks, one measuring 6 weeks 3 days.

Waiting on the OB to call back.

But holy crap.

This morning when I was bleeding I was totally convinced it was all over.

And now I am growing two babies.

This is one helluva rollercoaster I am on here.

I want this so much.

Why does it have to be so scary?

Please God, let's get me and the babies through this alive, ok?

My hopes are greater than my fears

Let's back up my story a little, shall we?

When I was in the middle of taking the last round of Clomid, our lovely pastor at church died rather suddenly from a very aggressive form of cancer. He was there one minute, and 30 days later he was gone.

As I was standing in the church at his memorial service I just kept sobbing and sobbing (and, to be frank, sweating, Clomid can be hard on the old body). I could only think of how much I adored him - of him marrying David and I, of him baptising me and a tiny Baby Jack, how he paraded around the church with my precious tiny baby like he was his own pride and joy. And here I was, in the middle of trying so damn hard for so long to have another baby and he wouldn't be there to share that joy with us.

In the church parking lot that day a BIG feather blew right in front of the van. It felt a little like he was holding my hand, another feather from angel's wings, just like when my grandfather died and there were suddenly feathers all over our house.

It was partially because of his death that I decided to come out so early on the blog this time. I have to remember that the time to pray, and to ask for prayers, is BEFORE there is a disaster.

Yesterday, when the anxiety was really starting to mount about the current pregnancy situation, I happened to notice that feather in the hallway.

And for a brief shining moment I thought it would all be okay.

He would hold my hand this morning.

And all of you would hold my hand this morning, just as you have been doing for an entire year.

So this morning I went to the OB's office for that ultrasound.

And despite a trip to the ER last Thursday for some spotting, I saw joy.

The flicker of a tiny heart.

A tiny heart!

I have a baby in there. A genuine baby growing in there. I have a due date on my chart.

I've been lectured on not doing drugs and not smoking (ha!), and honestly? The first time EVER I didn't even care about what I usually think of as insane lectures.

Because they are important lectures.

BECAUSE THERE IS A BABY IN THERE!

I did have to go back to the hospital this afternoon because there is not one, but two gestational sacs in there. And while one looks fantastic, one does not. I am slightly nervous about what is to come with losing that second sac, at this point it is impossible for me to be rational if and when I see blood, but I will deal with that day when it comes.

The woman doing my hospital ultrasound recognized us from last time. (I guess it's easy to remember the woman who has as many pregnancies as a Duggar but only one child?)

She admitted to David while I was using the bathroom that she is in the midst of primary infertility and my heart just aches for her. I have no idea how she can have that job - looking at babies all day, and be in that position.

It has been nearly impossible for me to even *look* at a baby for almost a year now.

And I know that there is no perfectly right thing to say to her.

But what I did say is that when you find yourself in the middle of this shit storm you just might surprise yourself with how deep you are able to dig.

And then she hugged me and we wished each other much luck on this journey.

Oh, What a journey this is.

A baby.

Another piece of David and I.

And I am *Sure* that Pastor Jim is smiling down on me today. I wish I could thank him, could tell him that even after he is gone he is helping me to grow, to find my faith, to find my feet, to make my way in the world, to be a mother again.

A mama again.

Truly amazing.

P.S. Let's hope that's the end of the shit storm for awhile, 'kay?