Babies are from Heaven. Blood clots are from Hell.

My newborn is closing in on 5 months. I guess that makes her less of a newborn and more of a baby, huh? She's still quite new to me. Her name is Kierstyn and she is a buttery ball of the softest, squishiest, sweetest smelling flesh. In the words of a co-worker, she's CRAZY soft. Pick-me-up-and-just-try-not-to-take-a-bite soft.

Before I whine about the trouble she's caused, I must declare her a miracle. Actually, she's a few miracles all wrapped up into one.

Miracle One: She's a she. I have an 11 year old, a 9 year old and a 5 year old - all boys. Enough said.

Miracle Two: She was conceived immediately after a miscarriage.

Miracle Three: I bled. For the first three months. Clots and all. And yet here she is.

Miracle Four: And this is a good one - my husband was done. I mean, DONE. But Kierstyn was no accident. He not only conceived one, but TWO times to get her. After 4 years of begging, bribing and still unfulfilled promises (by me), he consented, I removed the IUD and by the next month - PRESTO. Unfortunately that ended at 10 weeks with a traumatic miscarriage, but my Fertile Mertyl body got preggo right away. Which was a blessing, if not the longest pregnancy in recorded history. We're talking a year, here. With a 3 week break between pregnancies.

Miracle Five: She's a she.

I wasn't going to complain IN my Miracles, but hey, that's me. Good intentions.

So after the pukiest, bed-riddenest, thyroid failingest, bleedingest, nauseous-til-deliveriest, worstest, debilitatingest, water-retainingest, not to mention LONGEST pregnancy in the history of human kind, I went into labor on my own. Induction had always been my friend, but this time my body gave me a little gift - a month early labor without Pitocin to start it off. What a beautiful thing. And she was still a she. Who could ask for more? It was all gone - the nausea, the stuffy nose, the 30 pounds of water, the prison bed. I was free! I could walk again, bend again, pee like a normal person again. And I had this tiny 5 lb. 12 oz. friend to take home with me. She was a little jaundiced but someone delivered this awesome blue light that made her look like a Glo-Worm and un-tanned her pretty skin. And that was that. We were all so delighted with our miraculous bundle and life was perfect. She was straight from Heaven.

Wait. Life was almost perfect because who wants a perfect life? Apparently I had not opted for one in the pre-life.

10 restful, springy, lovely days after I delivered my sweet baby girl, I developed a massive blood clot in my left leg. We're talking hip to knee length Deep Vein Thrombosis. And the perfection ended right there. Soon to follow would be hospital stays (without the Miracle) and breast-pumps and shots I had to give myself in the stomach! Oh, and some pain. Enough that it took 20 minutes to crawl to my bathroom that is 10 feet away and 20 more just to pee. I hyperventilated quite regularly. It was great.

Surgeries. Crutches. A walker (yep - the Granny kind). Compression stockings. Blood Thinners. Physical Therapy. Daily blood draws. Pain. Pain. And then some progression. I could walk with the walker rather than lean on it. And before I knew it I could walk with a limp. And then NO limp! And then the swelling went down and I could actually exercise. There was hope and light ahead.

Aw, bummer. It didn't last, but I won't pretend to be all put out about it. I'm thrilled to have a leg still. Legs are good and quite useful from time to time. I'm thrilled I have a filter that will prevent clots from going to my heart or lungs to kill me. Cause that would really suck. I'm thrilled I can walk - limp. pain, stiffness and all. I don't even mind the Formication (google that one -it's pretty cool. Just make sure to get an M in there instead of an N)

But for some reason, I just can't get excited about the 40 pounds that are haunting me daily. 4 0. Do you know how many bags of flour that is? Put 40 1 lb bags in your shopping cart and push it around for a while. Let me know how comfortable that would be TWENTY-FOUR/SEVEN!!

Maybe I should have titled this Baby Fat is from Heaven. Baby Weight is from Hell.