Happy Halloween Cake

I made this cake for my sister Julie's birthday as she loves Halloween. It was supposed to be a rotting skull buried in dirt with pus oozing out of it. But decorating a cake and 7 week olds don't mix so I ended up over heating the icing which began to ooze instead of hold pustule shapes and before I knew it I had to call it a 'doo-rag' and make him a charred dirty pirate instead.

I used a chocolate cake recipe from Nigella that never fails me. I love it because it breaks every baking rule you've ever learned about keeping the dry and wet ingredients separate and painstakingly adding the wet slowly into the dry. You just dump everything into a food processor, give it a whirl and call it a day.

And it turns out EVERY time - moist and rich yet fluffy and light - and as a bonus it fit the skull pan perfectly. The pan can be found on sale right now at Williams Sonoma by the way and is worth every penny if you're a pan hoarder like myself. I sprayed it with nonstick spray and dusted it with cocoa powder before pouring the batter in and the cake released easy-peasy.

The cool thing is (yes I said cool thing in relation to cake baking - I'm five) is that you'll need to slice the inner halves of the skull after baking and cooling to make them flush and flat (so that when pressed together to make a skull it's not kattywompus.)

But this excess cake isn't wasted. You can crumple this bit of cake up with your fingers to make the 'dirt' for the skull to sit on. I had bought a packet of Oreos to grind up to use and found I didn't need to - I had delicious cake dirt!

The icing is where I took a major shortcut with Marshmallow Creme that actually suited my purposes just fine but I bet Pinterest or any other nerdy site could hook you up with an icing that is more profesh if desired.

Well my baby's up from his nap and ready to eat. Until next time - Happy Halloween y'all!

Halloween Skull Cake (Mint Chocolate Chip Cake)
Altered from a recipe by Recipe by Nigellas Lawson, Nigella's Quadruple Chocolate Loaf Cake

Cake:
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup cocoa, plus extra for dusting pan
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 1/2 sticks soft unsalted butter (I use SALTED)
2 eggs
1 tablespoon good-quality vanilla extract
1/3 cup sour cream
1/2 cup boiling water
1/2 teaspoon mint extract
1 cup Andes mint chocolate pieces or semisweet chocolate chips or morsels

Glaze for decorating/icing:
1 teaspoon cocoa
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
1 (7 oz) carton Jet Puffed Kraft Marshmallow Creme
Black food coloring, or other for coloring the pirate's 'doo rag'
Red food coloring, for blood
colored sprinkles for decorating doo rag
1 candy eyeball or a round peppermint candy for an eyeball
1 silver or gold dragee for center of the eye (use a dot of icing for the glue onto the candy eyeball)
An old steak knife, for stabbing through one of the eyes
Gummy worms, for planting in the 'dirt'

Special equipment: Halloween skull pan, found at Williams Sonoma


Directions
Take whatever you need out of the refrigerator so that all ingredients can come room temperature.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F, putting in a baking sheet as you do so.

Spray both sides of the skull cake pan well with nonstick spray, then lightly but thoroughly dust with cocoa powder. Place the pan on a sturdy flat cookie sheet for stability.

Put the flour, baking soda, cocoa, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla, and sour cream into the processor and blitz until a smooth, satiny brown batter. Scrape down with a rubber spatula and process again while pouring the boiling water down the funnel. Blend again, add in peppermint extract and give a final whirl. Switch it off, then remove the lid and the well-scraped double-bladed knife and, still using your rubber spatula, stir in the Andes chocolate pieces or chocolate chips or morsels.

Scrape and pour the batter into the prepared loaf tin and put into the oven for 25 minutes. Carefully rotate the pan to the other side then bake for another 10-15 minutes until the cake has risen all the way and 'puffed' but is no longer jiggly in the center. You want to be careful not to over bake this cake as all the detail in the sides can darken the edges and make them crispy if over baked. Using a cake tester or a strand of spaghetti is good insurance if you're iffy.

Remove the cake and let cool on a wire rack completely then carefully invert onto another greased wire rack. When you're sure the cake has cooled all the way, use a serrated bread knife to 'slice' off the undersides of the skull halves ,making them flat. Save these scraps to crumple into 'dirt' onto whatever plate or cake plate you're constructing the cake on making a nice bed for it.

Meanwhile put the syrup ingredients of cocoa, water and sugar into a small saucepan and boil for about 5 minutes, to give a thick syrup. Stir in the marshmallow creme and food coloring getting it to the color you like for the doo rag. Use about 1/4 of this mixture, a tablespoon at a time, to spread on the flat inner side of one of the skulls. This will be your glue to stick them together so don't use so much that it oozes out (though no big deal if it does) and add a little at a time.

Once the cake is together and the creme has set (should happen quickly, this stuff is like edible crazy glue) carefully set the skull into the center of the dirt.

Use the rest of the icing mixture to create either a doo rag or pus or whatever you like. If you let it cool a bit to where it's not so oozy, you can use a fork to drizzle 'brain matter' in little circles over the head. If the mixture gets too hard, gently heat it up over a low flame and stir again until it's smooth and oozy.

Finish decorating to your liking using a candy for an eyeball, more 'pus' in the other eye with a couple drops of red food coloring, and plant the worms in the dirt. Stab a steak knife in the empty pus filled eye socket if desired.

Introducing Sawyer Lee Wixom

The day before my due date (Labor Day) Kris and I lived it up. We went to brunch at La Condesa with our friends Molly and Paul and ended up hanging out and talking for four hours. That night we even thought of asking them to our new favorite restaurant - Bufalina - but decided to get take out from Thai Sway at the last minute instead.

We laughed about how both the beef dish and the fried rice were super spicy and would maybe 'do the trick.' But I didn't really believe it.

When we went to bed that night I didn't feel any different or have any expectations that the baby would actually arrive on his due date. They so rarely do particularly for first time moms. In fact here's a picture of me writing to the baby telling him I doubted I'd be meeting him the next day. (Oh hello thighs! Plotting to take over the world, are we?)

But at 3:30 in the morning I woke up with bad cramps. Quietly I crawled out of bed. Could it be? No way! I looked over at my sleeping husband and decided that rather than ring the alarm bell I should be more sure of what was actually happening.

I used the restroom and while doing so thought I felt my water break. But this is really tricky to verify when you're already peeing. Damn it! Why couldn't it be more like in the movies? Unsure of what to do, I went into our TV room, sat on the couch and looked out the window at the faintest whisper of a sliver moon. Suddenly the cramps intensified, this time deep into my lower back along with the sensation of peeing my pants. Only this time I couldn't have peed my pants because I'd just gone. Aha! This. Was. It.

I went back into the bedroom and quietly shook Kris awake.

"I think he's coming," I whispered.

Everyone who knows Kris has an image of him leaping out of bed upon hearing these words and flying out the door to get the car. But when I came back into the bedroom after putting in my contacts, this is what I found:

There was no leaping. There wasn't even a sign of consciousness. To top it off my dog had literally taken my place in bed. I'm not sure but I think this was Kris' way of quietly having a panic attack while simultaneously soaking up his last moments of pre-baby freedom.

So here's what I love. I had said for months I wanted to do all of my early labor at home. After touring the hospital I realized I'd rather be home in my comfy surroundings rather than in a strange sterile place especially when you can't get an epidural yet anyway.

But when I called the MedLink number to let them know my labor had started, the doctor on call had wanted me to go ahead and 'mosey on in.' Oh well. So much for best laid plans. Truth be told the pain was already getting to the point where a hospital seemed like the smarter place to be anyway, so I quickly showered, called my mom, and off we went.

It was kind of surreal because even though it was still pitch black outside there were already tons of cars and activity because of a big marathon being held later that morning.

We rolled up about 6:30 am. I quickly got checked in and settled into my bed. And it was then and there I realized how hilarious birthing plans are. In mine I had written very detailed notes about things I'd wanted access to. For example, a birthing ball like they'd shown us in our birthing class and a shower (I'd even brought my swim suit!) to be able to use hydra therapy during my contractions which the woman who taught our class had likened to getting a spa treatment.

Well let me tell you something. Once I got in that bed, the last place on earth I wanted to be was straddling a freaking birthing ball on the floor. Or in a bathing suit. The idea made me laugh so hard I worried I'd pee my pants again (not as if it mattered at this point, but still.)

By now the contractions were getting fairly intense and they decided to check me out down south. I fully expected to be dilated to at least 2 or 3. Nope. I was at freaking 1 where I'd already been for a whole week! You had got to be kidding me.

I tried to calm myself down. I'd always had a huge fear of giving birth and now I was sure this fear was going to be verified. This wasn't going to be easy. To make matters more complicated, the amazing doctor on call - Dr. Swenson - explained that scar tissue from an old surgery might delay my body from going into full labor mode and they might have to manually removal some of it in order to help me out.

Awesome. But all in all it wasn't so bad up to this point. My mom had arrived and was hanging on the couch next to me with Kris. When the contractions got bad, they would both help me through it - my mom rubbing my feet and Kris my lower back.

When it was apparent it was going to be a while before anything happened, Kris ran home quickly to take the dog to the boarding place next door. Coincidentally my mom had to run to the restroom so I was by myself for all of 30 seconds when I had the most intense contraction yet. This one was so bad that afterward I swore the baby's heart rate on the monitor sounded different.

Sure enough a gentle 'ding' alarm began to sound and I waited for the nurses to come flying in. No one did. Within 10 seconds I hit the button on my bed for help. My mom was back by now and asked what was going on. I was starting to panic as I explained what happened.

Just then my nurse, Chrysti, came in and checked the monitor. Apparently I'd had what the call an 'epic' contraction that lasted five minutes long! She surmised that the pain had literally taken my breath away and I'd temporarily forgotten to breath which upset the baby.

The upside to this was I got some drugs and some pitocen to speed things up down there. And let me tell you whatever they gave me sent me to the moon. I started seeing three of everybody, the music on my baby mix went all slow mo and psychedelic and every time I tried to talk it felt like someone was playing basketball with my tongue.

So out of embarrassment, I quietly let myself pass out. I don't remember anything for a while except that my belly monitor kept slipping because my stomach was already going down and they kept having to adjust it. Isn't that wild? You start getting skinnier before the baby even comes! Crazy.

Anyway the next time they checked me - I was at 4. Woo hoo! Epidural time!! This is what living in the 21th century is all about! You 'one with nature' types can take all that pain and eat it up sisters but not me. Personally I think opting in for that kind of experience is banay-nay but to each their own.

Anyway from there we basically hung out waiting for the seas to part. The psychedelics had worn off by now and I could hold a conversation again. My dad came in and visited for a while and next thing I knew we were in business. All the way to 10, y'all! Go time. And I felt like a million bucks to boot!

The only problem was the doctor had an emergency delivery with another patient and wasn't available yet. At this point they told me that I should just 'labor down' for a while. My mom, husband and I were all looking at each other like 'wth is Labor down?' Apparently you just lay down and let gravity take over until the doctor is ready for you and/or the baby says 'I'm not waiting any longer - I've already been in this damn place for nine months, thanks.'

So I got to nap again for another hour and a half. My mom and husband were so over it by this point I half expected to wake up and find them pulling the baby out. Thankfully the nurse came back to check me again and as soon as she did so whipped out her cell phone. "The baby's head is right there," she said. Trippy. And how very Grey's Anatomy.

Apparently this granted her permission to have me begin pushing and I got ready for full on battle. My husband put my hair back for me and turned up my music and my mom grabbed a leg.

I'll spare you the details but after the nurse explained what to do, we started pushing and weren't more than 15 seconds into it when she yelled 'stop!' Was I doing it wrong? Damn it - I knew I shouldn't have stopped exercising...

But oh quite the contrary. As it turned out, we were going too far too fast. She immediately dialed the doctor again. Don't you just love the modern world? The doctor was probably two doors down but faster to use a cell phone so there you go. "I can't hold her any longer," Chrysti said. "This baby is coming."

Twenty seconds later, the doctor came in along with a team of other people including the on-call pediatrician (I forgot to mention during all that hanging out - the baby had decided to poop which was not awesome because if he swallowed it this was bad news. I was assured that if he came out crying we were in the clear and wouldn't have to worry about it which was as reassuring as being told there might or might not have been rat poison in the salami sandwich you just finished.)

But there was little time to stress by this point so off we went. Four pushes later this little precious, white slime covered gremlin came out of my body and into my arms. He was crying. All was well. No poop in his lungs, thank God. So here's what nobody prepped me for. He really did look like a little creature from outer space. I remember thinking 'It's a given that I love him more than the earth itself but WOW...that's what he looks like?'

But then they cleaned him and low and behold he looked like a little sweet baby. Smushed face, but still precious. And here's what else they didn't prep me for. I had been so damn afraid of the hospital that my only thought was how quickly we could get out of there after. But truth be told I'm not sure if I've ever had more fun in my entire life than from that moment he came out to the 48 hours directly afterward. It was literally Christmas, New Year's and my favorite birthday rolled into one and times a thousand. Sounds ridiculous but it's true.

It was just happy happy joy joy infinity. Everyone came in to see him from our families who lived nearby as well as dear friends. I was exhausted but my happiness high kept me going. And here's the other thing. I literally had no idea your heart could be that full.

That first night when my husband was passed out and it was just me and little Sawyer on the bed together, I stared at him smiling like an idiot until my cheeks hurt. The second night was the same as well as the whole day in between. But the nights were my favorite. When it was just me and him and him and me against the world.

Do you remember your first bout of puppy love when you'd be on the phone with your boyfriend or girlfriend and you'd both be like 'you be the first to hang up' and the other would say 'no - you hang up first...'?

That's what it felt like staring at my sweet baby in those wee hours of the night. He looked at me and me back at him and I could have sworn this was similar to the telepathic conversation we were having. Only ours went like this:

Me: 'You close your eyes first.'

Sawyer: 'No YOU.'

On repeat. Every night. Okay I realize that in reality he could probably barely even see me and he was probably thinking 'when is this woman going to stop staring at me and give up her boob?' but still. That's what it felt like.

So it's still the most hilarious thing ever to me that the hospital experience was my favorite time ever.

Anyway, I am now in week two. It's exhausting. And elating. And at times terrifying.

But I've never been so grateful to have bags under my eyes.

Because my view is this:

And this:

And this:

Happy Living, Y'all!

Waiting on a Baby

I can honestly say that waiting for your baby to arrive has to be one of the most thrilling, nerve wracking, bizarre and surreal experiences in life. We are due on Labor Day, less than a week away, but he's already psyched us out a couple of times.

Just last night while I was making dinner, I thought my water broke. Turns out I just peed my pants.

Anyway, anytime I do anything in these last few days - go to the grocery store, make dinner, watch TV, check email, water the yard, go to sleep, wake up, pee my pants - I wonder to myself 'is this the last time I'll ever do this without another human being to take care of?'

Intense doesn't even begin to describe it.

So being the control freak that I am I console myself by doing chores. I've washed all his little clothes, sheets and blankets. Oh my God they're so freaking cute. I can't even handle it.

I make sure my bags are packed with all my essentials (read: flip flops for the hospital shower because the thought alone gives me panic attacks - did I mention I'm also a germ freak?), add to my baby playlist for the delivery room, write to him in his 'first year' diary telling him the dumbest things that come into my head.

But most of all I try to not freak out. If there is an upside to being in the 'advanced maternal' set (aside from being able to afford diapers and formula if my boobs don't work) it's knowing that I've been as selfish as a person can be for 36 years. I've done what I wanted when I wanted. I've lived in some amazing cities and soaked up everything they had to offer, spent countless weekends and late nights working away at my ad job without it negatively affecting anyone but me, even spent countless hours on the couch watching bad TV. And I've loved every second of it.

When I got pregnant I knew I signed up for a barrage of unsolicited advice from strangers, family and friends (though actually this never really bothered me. After all I've never done this before.) What I didn't realize was how many times I'd be asked the question, 'Are you ready?'

Just last night I was asked it for the thousandth time by a neighbor. And all I could do was answer honestly.

No.

I'm a realist. In my opinion nobody could ever really be ready to take on the responsibility of raising another human being. It's terrifying.

But I'm okay with that. It's what I signed up for. And something tells me that by me not thinking I've got it all figured out, I might raise a better human being in the process.

Or not. Frankly I'm just aiming to not raise a serial killer. And ideally someone who opens doors for ladies, says please and thank you and smiles more often than not.

We'll start there and see where we end up.

Sincerely,

Woman Wondering if This is Her Last Blog Post Before the Baby Comes

Key Lime Pie for Cheaters. No Apology Necessary.

For Father's Day this year I had my dad and stepmom over for a nice lunch. I made chicken fried chicken, chipotle and white cheddar garlic mashed potatoes, spinach salad and key lime pie.

My dad has a huge sweet tooth so initially I had higher ambitions than key lime pie using bottled key lime juice. But being pretty pregnant at that point something had to give and as I looked at the cheesecake recipe I'd pulled out the night before I realized it was a little ambitious in addition to making everything else including the salad dressing from scratch.

I found a bottle of Nellie and Joe's Key West Lime Juice in my pantry along with a chocolate graham cracker pie crust and off we went. And here's the thing. It didn't matter. I'd put this pie up against a made from scratch one any day. I jazzed things up a little with a sweetened sour cream topping and fresh lime zest. The sour cream topping was a component of my mom's cheesecake growing up and it added a nice counterpart to the sweet key lime filling (something a little different than whipped cream.)

If I had one thing to do over I'd have made the chocolate graham cracker crust from scratch. It wouldn't have added much time to the recipe and probably would've taken it up a whole other level but in a pinch you can't beat a tasty pie that you can whip together in five minutes flat.

Nellie and Joe's Key Lime Pie
*Slightly Adapted by Alisa Wixom

Ingredients:
1 (9 inch) prepared chocolate graham cracker pie shell (regular is fine too)
14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
3 egg yolks
1/2 cup Nellie and Joe's Key West Lime Juice (from a bottle found in grocery store)
1 (16 oz) carton sour cream
heaping 1/4 cup powdered sugar
zest of 1 lime

How To:
Preheat oven to 350. Combine the condensed milk, egg yolks and lime juice together in a medium bowl. Blend until smooth. Pour the filling into the prepared pie shell and bake for 15 minutes. Allow to cool for at least 30 minutes on a pie rack. While the pie cools, combine the sour cream and powdered sugar together until well mixed. Spread the mixture evenly over the whole pie (you probably won't need or want all of it but up to you.) Garnish the top with lime zest and a thin slice of lime if desired.

Cover lightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate until chilled. Will last for 3 days in the fridge.

Chambord Margaritas and a Baby Shower

My sweet friend Lauren brought these to my baby shower that she and my friends Claire and Kelly threw for me a couple of Sundays ago. What a day! It was absolutely perfect. They picked a whale theme because the baby's wallpaper features whales (pic at the bottom of this post) but kept things minimal and clean with yellow flowers all around and cute jelly bean-filled vases and cupcakes with the whales on them from the invitations that Kelly designed.

My favorite part though (aside from the margs) was Claire reading the 'guess the baby's birth date and weight cards' that also had a little piece of advice for me from all the lovely ladies - all of whom are moms aside from my niece, Brooke.

This absolutely melted my heart into a giant puddle on the floor. I kid you not - I'm going to keep them on hand for those nights when I feel overwhelmed and confused to keep me going. Such a good idea!

Anyway I realize some of you may be like 'baby schmaybe - I thought this was a food blog' so I'll get to the recipe asap. Lauren made these in individual mason jars and brought them over partially frozen with the lids on so that as people came and went they'd still be nice and cool waiting for them on the counter.

The presentation could NOT have been cuter. I felt like I was living in a Pinterest board. But the flavor - holy guacamole. Not too sweet but not too tart, limey with a little fruity Chambord kick. I got to sip on one with my hubby who stuck around to take pictures for us.

The great thing is you can make them ahead and keep them in the freezer. I imagine they would even stay good for a few days this way. So if you're already thinking about Halloween parties - look no further for your party drink. Toss some frozen lychees stuffed with raspberries in as ice cubes and you're in business!

Chambord Margaritas 
Courtesy of Lauren Bayne, cofounder of awesome mom site Meet the MILK
Big Batch - makes enough to fill 24 (8 oz) Mason Jars

Ingredients:

• 32 ounces, fluid Water
• 1-½ Tablespoon Lime Juice
• 12 ounces, fluid Can Of Frozen Limeade
• 12 ounces, fluid  Tequila - use the good stuff - not some cheapy you used to drink in college. 
• 6 ounces, fluid Triple Sec (I like Paula's Orange) 
• 8 ounces, fluid Chambord (or More To Taste)
• Cherries or Raspberries, for Garnish

Instructions:
In a large pot or bowl, mix all ingredients, whisk together until completely combined. Give it a taste and adjust to your liking.
This will make enough to fill 24 8-ounce Mason jars. Fill just shy of the top, place the lid on and store in your freezer until ready to serve. (It needs at least 5 hours to get slushy.)
Give it a stir with spoon, add a straw, a cherry and cheers! But don't drink too many or you'll need one of these:

Flank Steak Stir Fry, My New BFF

I'm crazily gathering recipes that are fast and easy and can be thrown together even when you have the coordination and where with all of a zombie which I understand is about to be the new norm for me with a newborn.

This one is modified from The Pioneer Woman and really aside from from a few tweaks the main difference is that I dump everything into a giant ziploc first (a step that can even be done several hours ahead) and then from the bag straight into a heated wok. Then while it's cooking all you have to do is cook the rice and dinner is DONE.

I realize I'm probably butchering wok cooking here by dumping everything in at once but I promise you it's still delicious and as long as you let everything rest a couple of minutes with the heat off after cooking the steak will be tender and delicious.

The secret is to reserve some of the chopped green onions and cilantro for garnish (though I doubt I'll remember to do this once sleep deprivation kicks in.)

Flank Steak Stir Fry

Ingredients:
1/2 cup low sodium soy sauce (I've used regular and it was fine just don't add additional salt)
2 tablespoons white wine
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger, optional
2 whole peeled garlic cloves
good pinch red pepper flakes
1 to 1 1/2 pounds flank steak, trimmed of excess fat and sliced against the grain into thin slices (I like to then take the slices and cut them into 2 inch pieces but it's up to you)
5 green onions cut into 1/2 inch pieces plus 2 green onions, chopped and reserved for garnish
1/2 cup chopped cilantro, divided
Optional (or use all!) veg: 8 oz snow peas, 1 red bell pepper cut into slivers, 2 carrots sliced into thin rounds, 16 oz frozen broccoli, 1/2 small sweet onion cut into thin strips
2-3 tablespoons canola oil or peanut or olive oil
Rice, cooked according to package, to serve alongside (my recipe is 1 cup rice to 1 3/4 cups low sodium chicken stock, brought to a boil then reduced to low with lid on for 12 min but follow whatever yours says for the amount you want)
Wok or a large dutch oven or cast iron pan for frying

How To:
Add the soy sauce through the sesame oil to a large ziploc. Gently smush around while holding the top (you can seal and shake it if it helps) to mix everything together and help dissolve the cornstarch and brown sugar. You can also mix this up in a small bowl first but this saves a step and washing it up by doing it right in the bag. Win-win.

Add the ginger (if using) and the garlic, red pepper flakes, steak, 1/2 inch pieces of green onions, 1/4 cup chopped cilantro and the veggies of your choice. Smush everything around, seal and refrigerate if not making right away or simply seal and set aside while you prepare your wok.

Add the oil to the wok and turn it around carefully so that the sides get coated. Put over medium high heat and let get nice and hot for a couple of minutes. Carefully add the stir fry - the contents of the entire bag - to the wok using a wooden spoon to spread everything out as much as possible so it cooks evenly.

(FYI now is also the time to start your rice in another pot.)

Lower the heat slightly and cook, stirring every so often to keep everything from sticking as well as cooking evenly, for 4-5 minutes until the steak is cooked through and veggies have softened. This might take a little longer if you've opted for all the veggies as well as the full 1 1/2 pounds of steak as opposed to a pound.

Turn the heat off and let the stir fry rest for a couple of minutes. Serve over rice with chopped green onion and cilantro.

Farewell 36 years of me, me, me.

I am 34 weeks along. Or shall I say 'we'? It gets weird when you're sharing your body with someone else. Anyway I can't believe it. In a matter of weeks, I'll be a mom and my life will have shifted in a way I can't even begin to comprehend.

So I thought I'd take a few minutes to ponder and honor this pre-life altering event. I want to share our story because I wish I'd found more like mine out there when we were trying.

We started 'opening the door' as they say to the idea of a baby three years ago. Neither me or my husband are the type to take bringing a baby into the world lightly (in fact there was even a period in our twenties when work so crazy that neither of us could even imagine doing it period.) We're both control freaks, selfish, youngest of big families and career-driven.

But then the hormones kicked it. As it turned out, our clocks started ticking at about the same time. I was 33. Him 32. It sounds dorky, like a scene from a Hallmark movie, but I honestly remember thinking that suddenly our house felt a little too quiet. It was kind of creepy actually.

So we opened that door and I had all kinds of visions of missing a period, stealthily going to the drugstore to 'double check' with a test then surprising him with the news in some wildly romantic, crazy way like baking a passifier into a cake or something.

A month went by then another and another. I never missed a damn period. Hmm. At that time I decided to google how to make a baby. Imagine my surprise when I learned the window for baby making is just 2-3 days per month! Oops. And shit. I hate science.

I mean of course I knew there was a window. I just didn't know it was that freaking stingy. My husband went one further - he flat out told me I was wrong. 'How can so many high school teens get knocked up if there's only a 2 day window??' he asked. I had to agree. It seemed bananas.

But google doesn't lie so I begrudgingly got an ovulation kit and we went from there. More months went by and no dice.

It was time to consult a doctor. I went to an OB since I needed one in Austin anyway, dragging my sweet hubby along. Her first question was 'how old are you?'

At that point I was 34. I expected a warm smile, maybe even a little sisterly wink like 'you still got it, girl. Don't you worry your pretty head...'

'Hmmm,' she said. Fucking hmmm. Then I got the speech. At 34 I was technically past the 'babies come easy stage' of life. Way past in fact. My eggs were less and less viable all the time. Finally she ended this little coffee klatch with the wise words that 'it could be really hard' and that we should 'do it a lot.'

Seriously? This is what I'm hearing in the year of 2011? I went on the defense, spitting out the fact that my mom had me when she was 37. Something that was all but unheard of back then. I mean her friends were probably all waiting for me to come out with a cyclops on my head, fiddling the song from Deliverance with my little crab claws and I turned out adorable.

'Were you her first child?'' she asked. Nope. I was her fourth. I would get this question/rationale a lot from friends that had undergone IVF. Apparently the whole age factor wasn't as big of a deal if you'd started having kids earlier. For example, if you have a kid at 25 you're much more likely to be able to have another one Halle Berry-style, at 45. But if you've never had a kid, waiting until you're 45 is like having filled your vagina with cement . Game pretty much over so to speak.

Anyway more time went by. More periods. Finally my mom called one day and said she'd seen a local doctor on TV who was supposed one of the best in the country for fertility. Not for the actual IVF process per se, but for doing everything possible to encourage pregnancy before having to resort to IVF.

This whole IVF thing was already lurking around the back of my brain so I liked the sound of this guy a lot. We were in his office in less than a week.

Dr. Silverburg was MUCH more what I'd pictured when I envisioned our 'let's get pregnant' doctor. He was warm, friendly and funny. He was super freaking positive. His thoughts were basically 'I see nothing wrong with either of you. This is going to happen.' He didn't talk about my age like I was totally effed. He was just generally pumped.

As it turned out I was ovulating (hi egg!) right there for the whole world to see on screen during my examination. We got sent home with a sex assignment.

But once again, nothing. So now it was time to ramp up the tests. My husband would get his brethren makers checked and I'd get something called an HSG, a procedure where they put a catheter into your lady parts and pump a colored liquid into it which you can follow on tv (okay, x rays) to see if the liquid makes its way to the proper places (your left and right fallopian tubes to where an egg usually waits to receive its gentlemen callers.) The only hitch is the liquid is applied with a bit of pressure to encourage completion of the journey as sometimes your tubes can be blocked for one reason or another and this can be painful.

I won't lie. With my husband's junk getting tested, I totally admit to having the 'She's Having a Baby' moment where I envisioned some part of his wardrobe as the culprit for inhibiting his man power. Maybe his jeans. Or the damn laptop that was never far away from his crotch.

Well we both did our thing and were back in the doc's office nervously awaiting to hear how we measured up a couple weeks later. This time Dr. Silverburg was sick and therefore not his usual jovial self which only added to the intensity. On top of that neither of our results were anywhere to be found which really put him in a good mood.

Finally after a series of phone calls he got my husband's over the phone from someone at the lab. Boy was I wrong. He so did NOT have a problem. In fact let's just say if the world was coming to an end the FBI or MIB or whoever the hell would probably single-handedly track him down to freeze his baby makers to use to save humanity post-apocolypse. He'd have the population back up and running in no time.

Well shit. That left little miss you-know-who. And to make matters worse, my test results had apparently vanished into thin air.

Regardless he made a gut call. Based on how omni-potent my husband was, he thought that without a doubt I was the problem, something I'd been dreading deep down for a while. He wanted me to have two minor surgeries done immediately. One where they go through my belly button to break up a small septum in my uterus. He hadn't thought the septum was big enough to be a problem before but now wasn't taking any chances. It just might be the reason why an egg wasn't attaching. The second procedure was something where they go in with a camera and investigate for signs of endometriosis. Eek.

I tried not to cry but it was pretty sucky. Not the end of the world yet but definitely a solid, concrete red flag as to why we'd had such a hard time and would continue having a hard time without minimal if not major help. I finally had to let go of the image I'd always clung to where I just woke up one day pregnant like Heidi Klum or half the teenagers in America.

Anyway because it was the holidays we waited to schedule the procedures until after Christmas and got on with life. The pressure was off and the holidays took over as only they can do. On Christmas Eve I remember my boobs hurting me so bad, I asked my sister for a Tylenol. TMI but monthly boob pain isn't unusual for me. Boob pain that requires medicine, however, is.

The day after Christmas they were still killing me. I have modest little boobs but I felt like I was lugging around a couple of anchors. We were eating at Salt Lick with my in-laws and I remember two things: a) my boobs killing me and b) me not drinking wine. Me not drinking wine with dinner is admittedly unusual and I hadn't even thought about it.

On the way home I asked my husband to stop by CVS so I could 'run in' for something. In classic form, he asked me to get some ice cream. When I rolled up to the counter with two pints of ice cream and a pregnancy test, the clerk, a flamboyent gay guy with black and Crayola red striped hair put down his People magazine and said 'GIIIIRl...no you didn't.'

'Actually I hope I did,' I said. 'I'm getting old.'

I didn't say a word to Kris or the in laws but instead went home and took the test straight to the bathroom. I peed and waited like I'd done so many times before. Only this time, instead of seeing the grim, final 'no', it read pregnant.

I literally couldn't believe it. In fact, that's a selfie of my reaction at the top of this post. I literally couldn't believe it.

So that's my story. Our story. The story of a baby that we tried and tried for that just kind of happened. A baby that was already inside of me when we sat there in the doctor's office hearing the news that I was going to have to have a couple of procedures, if not IVF, to conceive. Crazy.

Do I know how or why? No. But I have a hunch. I honestly think the HSG unblocked something. When I was having it done, the liquid went up the left side of my body like lightning while the right took its time and even stopped a couple of times. The technician had me roll on my right side and after a few seconds it was off to the races again. So I'm guessing that all those times I was ovulating on the right side, the doorway for the little men was blocked which pretty much wiped out half of our efforts. I also think that our lack of timing during that first year hadn't helped us any either.

But truthfully we'll never know. I am just so thankful that it happened!

And I've had the world's best, easiest pregnancy. I literally have no complaints aside from early boob pain, some early bitchiness/tiredness and nose bleeds. That's it. Just this week my doctor told me 'you must be reading all the right books.' I told her I love buying all the books on pregnancy and not reading them which is true.

Books freak me out. And so do peoples' comments on google. If you're trying to get pregnant or are pregnant, stay away from the comments sections. I'm convinced half of them are written by 14 year olds - kind of a modern day version of prank calling - or by those people that poison their kids to get empathy. Or people who actually have gone through truly terrible stuff and need to get it off their chest. Either way it's not worth putting yourself through it. Just my two cents.

Anyway I am so, so thankful. And excited. And terrified.

Wish me luck.

It's gettin' real.