Of course I took the test right before I went to bed and while hubby slept peacefully, my mind reeled with all of the possibilities. What does this all mean? I’m so happy, ecstatic really, it’s what I’ve wanted for so long and now um it’s here. The next evening hubby and I ran out to find any and every baby book that could tell me what I could expect while expecting. I even bought cute little “my belly books” and baby books and began devouring them, trying to glean any ounce of knowledge I could from those pages.

I am type 1 diabetic and therefore any child I pop out will have been up close and personal with medical staff from the beginning. So I called my nurse and got in right away the next day. Weight: check, pee: check, all of the rules and regulations with having a high risk pregnancy: ugh, check. We were good to go, all future appointments set and even though nothing was really discussed other than when this kid was planning to make its debut, I felt like they were telling me it was all real – giving me the affirmation I needed that this wasn’t just all in my head.

The next big step was getting ready for a long weekend with family. It was still pretty early and I didn’t want to tell them but my actions spoke louder than my words. The first night at our family’s cottage I refused beer. I guess it’s unlike me to refuse adult beverages and everyone gave me a strange look. I covered with, “oh I’ve had a headache all day” which seemed to suffice till morning. At breakfast, I declined my favorite beverage of all, coffee. I passed it off as nothing and was just waiting patiently till my parents came into town so they would be the first to know.

I began spotting and turned immediately to my bibles to see what it all meant. They all said spotting was normal, not to worry unless experienced with painful cramping…which I did not have. My parents arrived and the good news just spewed out of my mouth. They were so happy, the look on their faces was equivalent to that of four Christmas’ in a row. Now, going against my better judgment I HAD to tell everyone – it was diarrhea of the mouth yet the spotting continued.

The next morning, I couldn’t ignore the spotting, it had actually increased and I was in the middle of nowhere, far away from my regular doctors – now what do I do? I called the nearest hospital and they suggested I come in. Little did I know that I was walking into Deliverance. I have worked my way through some large hospitals but never though such a small operation as I did that morning. I waited for my number to be called and once escorted to my room, told to put on a gown and have a seat. As I was disrobing, the door was briskly opened and I stood there, nearly naked and speechless a nurse walks in as if nothing was going on. Startled, my husband and I reprimanded her for not knocking and having some decency while someone is in the room. The whole ordeal was traumatic and as I left, I knew, it was certain, I miscarried.

I felt like a failure, a disappointment to my family, my husband, my self. I sucked it up the rest of the weekend and tried to make the best of my vacation. The following weeks were filled with depression, anxiety, stress and just an all around feeling of loss. Everything in our lives was set on this path to baby and it’s all gone. Now what? It probably didn’t help that my body had begun to overload on hormones and those needed to be washed out of my system. The shear sound of a little child or baby was like fingernails down a chalk board. I knew I would rebound, but when? I turned to some websites that had support communities for those that have miscarried and that really seemed to help. It put into perspective that losing a baby isn’t my fault, rather natural selection at its finest. Things always could be worse and I read some of those stories.

My husband and I decided that it was a victory that we could get pregnant and we will keep practicing till we are ready again.

When my husband and I purchased our condo, along with many others in our buildings, things were flying on and off the market like hot-cakes. We didn’t even have the luxury to see our official residence till after our offer was accepted (granted we had many contingencies to ensure we got what we wanted) which is ironic now considering we rarely have any showings and came so close to an offer only once.

The very unfortunate thing is that our condo units were conversions from upscale apartments and we were certain five years ago that this was a great time to get into some real estate. We both had stable jobs and it just seemed to be the time (that’s what we were told). Little did we know that the proverbial bottom was about to drop out and after five years, we would still be holding this little gem of a condo.

Our condo is great, spacious and honestly the location is simply perfect. It’s a great low maintenance unit and the many neighbors get along well. It’s nice that we are all around the same age. Which poses the other problem: young professionals were the first owners of these units. We are all now getting to that certain age where we are getting married, wanting babies and needing to spread our wings – nearly all of us are. Having a family in these units is do-able but really tries the patience of even the most patient parents.

The conundrum is where do we go from here? The condo’s been on the market for over a year, a smattering of showings, only one really close offer and we are all still sitting in our units. Some say we need a Realtor. I find that hard to believe considering that the other units all have Realtors and they haven’t gotten any further (in fact they will have to pay their listing agent a commission – so they will actually be a little behind). Some say it’s not staged well. I find that hard to believe. Others suggest we drop our price but honestly, there’s a unit that is listed at $14,000 less than what she paid for it and she still hasn’t sold hers either. If only it was as simple as dropping our price.

All of our showing feedbacks come to us with RAVE reviews “your unit shows so well” “the color scheme you’ve chosen is great” “my buyers loved the location” but the critical reviews have all been things we can’t change: “my buyers didn’t like the *apartment* feel to the building” “the unit faces the parking lot” “my buyers have two dogs” “there’s only one parking spot”. What can one say to those objections? Sorry Charlie – we are what we are.

So while we brace ourselves for yet another three seasons in our building, our dreams and aspirations are on hold – tight hold and that’s just a sad revelation. I found myself giving my husband a pep talk earlier today by saying, these are the cards we have been dealt when honestly myself I feel like this hand of cards really sucks.

There are three that come to mind, the simple guilty little pleasures that seem to turn any gray sky blue; in my family those are (in order of importance): Goonies, Back to the Future and Ghostbusters. Each one holds a special place in my heart and mind where time stops and allows me the chance to look back on the then.

Late on Sunday night, as I was begrudgingly preparing for bed, realizing that yet another week of work was looming, I turned on the TV to find any remote distraction from my reality when low and behold TBS became my friend, my confidant that knew I needed a Goonies pick me up. Within minutes, gone are the days of mortgages, car payments and mediocre employers and back are the days of riding bikes with friends, mom and dad taking on the weight of the world, dreaming of the impossibly vast future, sports practices and the largest concern for any girl that age, boys. It all came flooding back, me curled up on the end of the couch, siblings surrounding me, the bright light of the boob tube and Sloth’s infamous – Hey You Guys!

I would be remiss not to mention the two runners up. Michael J. Fox was simply Marty McFly in our house, pre-Spin City, even pre-Alex P. Keaton. The slacker, wanna be rock star still made me wish I was Jennifer – what girl didn’t want that? The fantastical impossibility was the sell, we hop into a DeLorean, race back to the past and make our future better. I’ll take one of those please.

Lastly, the soft-core horror for an adolescent, Ghostbusters. I still remember, like it was yesterday, my baby brother hiding desperately behind the couch as Dr. Ray Stanz quickly reveals his last minute decision stating his famous line “Get Her!“.

We all have those movie memories that bring you back to better days, easier days in life. Hey you guys, what are your guilty pleasure, sub-par movies that act like the DeLorean – you know, the movies that just get you?!?