Hi everyone -


Thanks to all of you who have been checking out the "baby blog" ... and to all the bloggers who have been linking to us.

At first, we just thought that a blog would be a cool way for Channel 4 Action News viewers to stay connected with Wendy during her maternity leave.

But it turned out to be a little bigger than that. In fact, on many days, this ranked as one of the most popular pages on ThePittsburghChannel.com.

So ...

You may have noticed Wendy has a new role as 5 and 11 p.m. anchor of Channel 4 Action News. To go along with that, we have set up a brand new blog for her. Look for the first post this week!

Here's the URL, so you can update your bookmarks:
thepittsburghchannel.com/wendybellblog

We hope you'll switch over and enjoy reading Wendy's new blog. She'll post as often as she can. And feel free to use the feedback form, which goes straight to her e-mail account here at the station.

Yes, yes. I know. It's been a while. But I finally have a moment to myself on this Saturday morning, with Ryan in his swing and Michael and Jack watching Sleeping Beauty. ("Aw, Mom! That's a girl's show!") No fools they. I had to sell it by telling them there were sword-fights and scenes with a big scary dragon. So as they sit on the couch in their Television Trance, I'd like to share with you a little bit of a visit I had with my sister and her older son, Evan, last weekend.

Janet lives in Manhattan Beach, California. And God love her, whenever she comes out for a wintertime visit, she desperately wants it to snow here so Evan and his little brother, Nicholas, can see the stuff fall from the sky. Never happens. Like hardly a flurry. So when Janet called and told me she and Evan were coming out to hang out with the boys and meet Ryan, I checked the forecast. No snow. Perfect.

So we decided to simulate it. Let's go Ice Skating!! Hooray! What fun!! What idiots. I don't know how long it's been since YOU went skating, but for Janet and me, it's been -- what? 20 years? Janet was damn good, too. Me? No. Joe, Janet and I decide to take Mike, Jack and Evan out to Harmarville for an afternoon public skate. One adult for each kid, we're golden, right?! Wrong.

Let's dial things back to a week prior to Joe's maiden voyage on ebay. He thinks, hey -- HE used to play hockey -- he'll teach Michael the basics of skating. Right. Cause you know the man who works 12 hours a day and sees Shadyside hospital more than he does us has so much free time to "go for a skate." A nice idea. So Joe goes online and starts looking for skates for him and Mike. I give him credit. He got a nice used pair for Mike in no time. 20 bucks. Not bad. But the men's skates? Well...that's where things got sticky. Joe made The Mistake. Never Ever bid on two of the same things...at the same time. You see where this is going. Yeah. Joe got both. Fabulous. We now have two pairs of men's hockey skates for the one man in the family.

So on the Saturday that Janet, Joe and I round up the boys to go to Bladerunners...the UPS guy delivers two of Joe's ebay purchases. One of his pairs of skates and Mike's. Joe puts on his and discovers they're too big. No problem, he thinks. He'll just sell them back on ebay. Sure. (Translation: He'll give them to me to sell back on ebay.) The six of us head out to the rink, Joe and Mike with their skates, and Janet, Evan, Jack and me getting rentals. Things are fine...until Joe disappears. I mean gone. (You try getting three squirming boys' feet laced in those things. I'd rather shoot myself.) Finally -- with everyone all laced up and Joe still AWOL -- we stagger and stumble to the rink -- trying to keep the boys from twisting an ankle -- and I see Joe. In the freaking PRO SHOP. Getting his blades sharpened. Wait. You're SELLING these on ebay...after you wear them today, right? And you're PAYING to get them sharpened? Right.
Let the fun begin.

To this day I swear the skates Janet and I were wearing had tacks sewn into their pleather. I looked at her as she was wrenching her lower back, trying to keep Evan vertical, with tears in my eyes. I liken the pain to running on the beach with sand in your pants. Talk about a rash. The blades were so dull I could have stabbed someone with them and barely drawn blood. The ice was newly Zambonied so it was all slick and watery....yep. Talk about a good time. I think the shot of Jack "listening" to Joe really says it all. (Sorry. Again it got transfered sideways. UGH!) Needless to say, after 10 minutes, Jack cried and whined for a pretzel. Joe had hurt his back and needed to "skate around to loosen it up" -- Michael was so wet from falling again and again that his jeans were sticking to his legs, and Janet was sweating bombs, trying to keep Evan from shattering his skull. (It's about this time that someone invariably recognizes me, and I have to pretend that we're really having fun.)

So -- what did I take away from our skating extravaganza? It's worth all the money in the world to buy skates and avoid The Rental Counter. And if you need to borrow a pair of men's skates? Let me know. I have two you can choose from.

But the true lesson of all this? When Joe and I are old and gray...I'll whip out these pictures and nags the nuts out of him. I thank all you men out there for giving us women the fodder to drive you crazy. I DO count my blessings, friends. I have a husband with whom I love spending time, and three sons who never cease to teach me something new.

Wow -- where did the 8 weeks go? My "relaxing" maternity leave came to a screeching halt Wednesday, and before I knew it... it was 3 AM and time for me to get back to reality and back to the station. The news of the day? A heart-wrenching story of celebration... and devastation. Twelve, hard-working men feared dead... then reported alive... then confirmed dead. Twelve families worrying in a way I can only imagine, only to have those worries proven true. As I slid into my seat on the set at 4:56 AM, I felt as so many of you have in the hours that followed. So saddened by a terrible loss. And so sad to be the one to deliver the news.

I think I rank worry up there among the world's worst feelings. Joe and I got a huge dose of it just yesterday when Ryan -- now just two months old -- stopped eating and started wheezing. He couldn't breathe and was choking on a thick, wet cough. I took him to the pediatrician who told me to get to Children's Hospital... and when I got there and the ER staff looked at him, they whisked us into the critical care room. How's that for scary? RSV is the likely culprit, they said. A nasty virus my warm-climate California family isn't personally familiar with, but Pittsburghers know all too well. The nurse put an IV into Ryan's tiny arm, started pumping fluid into his little, dehydrated body, sucked gobs of goo out of his nose and throat, and scared the bejabbers out of Joe and me. How could a 9 pound peanut make such awful slime? And so much of it? When Ryan was admitted for the night and they wheeled his bed onto the 7th floor, I saw how many of us parents are in the same boat. That bedraggled look of desperation and fear. Children big and small, wondering what the heck is going on and why they feel so awful. Ryan's condition improved through the night and I was able to bundle him up and take him home shortly before noon today. But as I walked through the hospital hallways with his car seat on my arm, I passed parents -- not so lucky. Who knows how long they'll be there? Who knows if their kids will come home with them. Who know how long they'll have to worry.

We're so fortunate to live here in Pittsburgh where hospitals and doctors and nurses are plenty. Where medical conditions that used to be life-enders are treatable. Even beatable. Where research is a top priority. In fact, in the news today -- word of a multi-million dollar grant from Michael J. Fox's foundation to develop new ways to treat Parkinson's Disease. There's a reason our region is on the medical map. People here are doing great things. And people like you and I will benefit. More importantly -- our children will, too.

So here I sit, facing a good 10 loads of laundry, a pile of bills and a sick little boy. Life is good. It says so on the shirt I'm wearing right now. And it's true. I didn't lose my father or husband, my brother or son two miles deep in a West Virginia mine. But you can bet that when I slide back into that seat at 4:56 on Monday morning and I have to tell you about it, I'll know a little more of that worry those dozen families suffered. May those men rest in peace. And may the people they left behind get a big dose of it themselves.

You'll have to excuse me now. My little squeaker is waking up with a thick, hungry cry. I'll call that the sweetest sound in my life. (Here's a picture of him resting after his night in the hospital. It's sure good to be home).

Hi everyone!
I hope all of you had a peaceful and rewarding holiday since the last time we chatted. I've heard from so many of you since my last post nearly two weeks ago (sorry about that...) and I must thank you again for your kind words and well wishes. I got the best present in the world December 20th when my parents flew out from California for a week's visit... and I for the first time in my life was relaxed enough to enjoy every single minute. At last count, my mom did... what? 20 loads of laundry? Fed Ryan a few dozen times and helped me with meals and general sanity issues. And my dad, God love him, read books to the boys, played hockey with them and spent the better part of a day putting together a play kitchen that the boys freaked over on Christmas morning. Now Jack can be the hibachi chef he's always dreamed of... and I can pick up the endless pieces of plastic fruits and vegetables and fake sushi that I already found stuffed in one of my couch cushions. I especially enjoyed the play menus the boys used to "take our orders" that Michael inadvertently tossed into the wash in his pants pocket. There's nothing like 5 million pieces of paper to pick off your clothes to start a day off right. But I did want to assure you (with the above photo) that I do fully embrace the world of no makeup on this final week of maternity leave. (The picture was taken moments before Ryan barfed a full stomach load of milk down my shirt.) Nothing like that to keep a grown woman humble. Going back to work January 4th will at least keep me cleaner...

As a family update -- Ryan has the same case of colic his brothers had and cries miserably most of the time he's awake and Jack is now sporting a 102 degree fever, but still... these problems, too, shall pass. I was reminded of that a few days before Christmas when a beloved editor at WTAE passed away suddenly from a heart attack. I think all of us could use a dose of sense when we complain about the things in our lives that seem so important. Someone's always got it worse, don' they?

What is it about the holidays that tends to get us so twisted up inside? So stressed out and crazy? I think this was the first year that I seriously had too freaking much to do to get nutty about holiday "pressure." If you're anything like Joe and me, you've forsaken gifts for each other to buy for The House. You know. The new windows. A washer and dryer. The new couch you so sorely need. In my case, the sexy gift was a new fireplace. God forbid we should have one that actually works, right? So aside from a few fun gifts exchanged, it was really a pressure-free holiday. I strongly suggest it. Unlike Valentine's Day which is purely manufactured, Christmas comes with a message. And the one I learned is that my family doesn't really care what I give them. As long as we're together... and they know I love them.

That being said, Michael did get his goalie helmet and Jack -- his new light sabre. Isn't it so hard to pull the reigns in on excess? Whether you have the money to spend or not? So far, I've resisted video games, ipods, MP3 players and xbox-like electronics... but I know that some day I'll have to give. Just... not yet. Not now. I'm not ready. I want to live in my silly little world where half a dozen poems from Shel Silverstein's "Where the Sidewalk Ends" is the perfect way to tuck my boys in at night. I took the boys out for breakfast the other morning and sat one booth away from a mother around my age with a son around Mike's. He sat across from her and played a video game the entire time while she talked on a cell phone. No thanks.

So.... as we all get ready for this new year, my wish for you is quite simple. Because I struggle with it every day. I wish we will all slow down, just a bit. Don't wish for that new job. Don't worry about that next buy. Don't hope that your kids would grow up "just a little" so they'd be easier to deal with. My wish is the one I need to learn the most. Suck the marrow out of life today while you can... because God only knows when that life could really change.

(I'll leave you on a less serious note with the snapshot at the top of the page that became our Christmas card. Three sons. Could a woman be any luckier?)

I don't think I truly appreciated the holiday season as an adult until my kids started school. Both Michael and Jack go to the same elementary school where the lessons of the season go a lot deeper than just St. Nick and presents. And through their education... I've learned a lot. It's not the size of the gift, how much it cost or how hard it was to get. As long as it's a Mace Windu light saber, something camo, or -- best yet -- a Penguin's goalie helmet... Christmas morning will be a fine time with little whine.

Both boys had their holiday "extravaganzas" last week at school. Jack's Christmas show was about 7 minutes, four songs and six antlered kids long. Michael played Joseph in his class's rendition of "A King is Born"... a darling show of angels and mangers and shepherds... though if I hear "We three Kings of Orient are..." one more time, I might consider shooting myself. (PS -- I'd love to straighten out that shot of Jack but I seriously can't figure it out.... pointers, anyone?)

It wasn't until I sat in the audience, watching these two very different presentations, that I truly appreciated the beauty of the season (which is to say -- the beauty of watching KIDS enjoy the season.) Jack with his nose painted brown and two construction paper antlers shaped suspiciously like his hands -- singing Christmas carols off key... and Michael with a blue cloth on his head... sitting next to his cute little blonde classmate portraying Mary... reciting lines over the manger. And me... the idiot mother with camcorder in hand... singing or saying the lines with them... totally captivated that these two little people are part of me. Make that -- all of me.

So -- for all you similarly idiotic parents, or grandparents, or aunts, uncles, godparents or friends -- out there who know what I'm talking about.... Merry Christmas to you. I've finally learned what my mother always meant when she said the greatest gifts in the world were my sister and me. These two... and their little brother... are mine.

You ever just try to do too much, too often, and too soon for your own good? Like take me, for instance. We needed a new car. A big car, for three large car seats. Okay. I can do this. So Joe and I go to the car show, look at all the SUVS because I'm not ready to cede to the minivan... and we decide on the sport utility we like the most. A few months later when we're ready to buy, I seal the deal, drive the thing home. Voila. Perfect. Until Ryan was born and I realized I couldn't fit three car seats AND a stroller in the thing. Nice. If I had just slowed down a fraction of a bit, maybe I wouldn't have been so clearly stupid and would have checked out that teensy part of the equation. This past weekend... I was almost as dumb...

So Friday night, Michael tells me he doesn't feel well. Mind you, the kid has told me he hasn't felt well every stinking morning that I've been on maternity leave. He must think, hey! This is great! Mom is actually HOME when I wake up... AND... she's home AFTER school... I want to stay home, too! No dice. We fight every morning that no, he doesn't have a headache. No, his teeth don't actually hurt. And no, he is not going to throw up. I take him to school, he clings to my leg, I push him off gently and nudge him into the class... he looks back with tears in his eyes... I feel horrible... yep... you can see where this is going. Until Friday night... when Michael pulled the same "I'm so sick" routine and then... threw up. Great. And then Ryan started to throw up. And Joe was on call at the hospital. ALL WEEKEND LONG. Let the Barfarama begin.

Speed things up to Saturday. Michael clearly has all-over malaise because he actually LETS Jack choose the morning cartoon with no blow to the head -- and by late afternoon -- I'm ready to either start drinking or get out of the house. Wait -- we have tickets to the hockey game! Sure, the Penguins will be painful to watch but, hey! If Michael is actually able to stomach it, and Ryan isn't refluxing all over the place, my sister in law and I can take the boys to the game!! Great idea. What an idiot. You ever tried to take three kids to a sporting event when none of the three is really self sufficient? A friend of mine came over at the first intermission and gave me a kiss only to tell me she was sure I had a fever. No. I still hadn't taken my flipping coat off because I didn't have enough hands!! AAAGH!! I was sweating bombs, Ryan was freaking out over the noise (who would have thought the Pens would have scored?) and Jack was kicking the chair in front of him and singing loudly to himself. Thank God nobody knew I was there. HA! By the time we finally got home, I thought for sure Ryan would be so tired he would sleep for 6 hours straight. Not a chance. He stayed up for 2 more hours... and I realized... I had done the "undoable." Too much. Too soon. Too stupid.

Here's the blurry proof. At the very least, Ryan brought home a winner for us Saturday night. And I'll likely never forget his first experience at the Mellon Arena. May your day... be a lot more peaceful.

I wonder... is there anything more peaceful in the world? I just brought Michael and Jack home from school and, with both thoroughly soaked from a snowball fight, I got them in some warm pajamas and tucked them in for a nap. You gotta love a 5 and 4 year old who both still nap!! So, with these few moments of silence, I want to catch up with all of you again.

Let me start by saying how much I've been thinking of you and all your e-mails. I find it hard to go back to sleep in the middle of the night after a bleary-eyed hour or four with Ryan because I have so many thoughts tugging at my mind... and my heart. We've managed to open a huge door of communication, you and I... and the question now is... where should we go?

A number of you has stumbled upon this blog -- whether you're checking out the WTAE website looking for school delays or you're interested in a report you've seen on the news -- and somehow, you've bumped into me and this column. Some of you know me from TV, some of you are logging on from miles and countries away and have no idea who I am. No matter where you are, or WHO you are, there is something we share universally in common. A link that -- good or bad -- has brought us together. And many of you have written to me, opening new doors of conversation that are both difficult to travel and also so vitally important to explore.

By sharing just a snapshot of the anguish, devastation, worry and joy that the last several years have brought Joe and me, I'm really just scratching the surface. And consider this: My story actually has a GOOD ending. How many countless other men and women out there suffer each day in silence? Carefully and protectively hiding from loved ones and friends the truth about their own, individual problems conceiving? I've heard from stay-at-home dads, working moms, and people who do a little (er... make that a LOT...) of both, like I do. Some of you have revealed horrifying personal medical problems. Others -- the loss of a child or the birth of one with a defect or disability. And some of you tell me you'd go to the ends of the earth to have a baby, but that you simply can't afford the long and arduous fertility journey, either emotionally or monetarily. There has to be a better way. Doesn't there? Virtually anyone can be licensed to drive a car -- and the concept of a four-way stop eludes about half of them, for God's sake -- but millions of men and women out there who would be wonderful parents will never experience it... either because it's medically impossible, or financially not feasible. That's not fair.

Life's not fair. My dad always told me that. Hated when he did, too. Because he was right. I've always subscribed to the philosophy that if I wanted something badly enough, and I worked hard enough, then why shouldn't I achieve it? Within reason, of course. We all know I won't be a great chef or a baker, considering the apple pie fiasco. But if you really set your sights on something, even if it's a dream, shouldn't you at least get a shot at it? I just wasn't ready to STOP having children. I wasn't done. I knew I had more to offer. More love to give. More lessons to learn from children yet to be born. And come on... if we have the technology in the free world in which we live to take a woman's egg and fertilize it with a man's sperm to create LIFE... why should it be so... unreachable?

And here's the kicker to my story. Two months before Joe and I started our fertility treatments (which, as many of you know, cost upwards of $10,000 to $15,000) his health insurance changed. We would have been totally covered by the old plan. The new plan? Zip. And coverage plans are getting less and less comprehensive. Less and less inclusive. More and more user UNfriendly.

Look. I don't have the answers, but I sure do have lots of questions. And thanks to this blog, (one reader called it a "blob." I almost wet my pants...) I feel a huge sense of relief. The proverbial weight -- lifted from my chest. If Joe and I decide to have more children, I'm going to march into that clinic and make no bones about it. There's nothing selfish about wanting a family to love. There's nothing selfish about wanting your family's legacy... continued. There's nothing selfish about wanting to feel new life move inside your body. There's nothing selfish about speaking out about the problem and breaking free from the pain.

If you're dragging that wet blanket of secrecy around with you, consider letting go. If you're finally pregnant now after suffering with miscarriage, try to stop torturing yourself with worry. If you again are checking off another month on the calendar with no success... try to hold your head up a little higher than you have been. You are not alone. You are not disgraced. You are not a failure. WE ARE IN IT TOGETHER.

Enjoy a nice weekend, friends. I think I'll take the boys out tonight so they don't get tortured by my cooking.

There have been so many times I've struggled inside myself with the decision to make public such a private issue for Joe and me... but today.... I struggle no more. I wrote in my last post that if one of you -- just one, single person out there -- learns of our experiences and feels the slightest solace... or if one of you thinks twice before casually asking someone you know "So -- when are you going to start a family?" -- well... then... my revelation was worth it. Your responses to 12/5/05 have blown me away. I must admit, I've had to read them in installments because I get too emotional to continue. And God knows, I don't need to freak out my kids more than they already are.

So many of you have thanked me for my "courage." I don't think I'm brave in the least.
I'm just tired of hurting. And so many of you are hurting. The brave ones are those of you who've taken the time to write me back to reveal YOUR touching stories. Is it that we heal by sharing our pain? Or is this just the first step of a long journey? I'm not sure.

I so desperately want to respond to so many of you, but please understand that if I did... Ryan would starve, Michael would beat up Jack, and Jack would destroy my house. I do, however, want to share a few of the amazing comments YOU'VE shared with ME. I've learned so much from you...and I thank you for your remarkable words.

Pam's entry really touched me.
" I just wanted to say "Thank You " for your last post regarding your infertility issues. I too went through the same unexplained issues for over 15 years....with no luck. I felt I was the only person in the world that was going through all of this....the poking and prodding, test after test after test, the disappointment after disappointment. I know what it feels like to see everyone around you get pregnant and try to keep up a brave front while it tears you up inside. Unfortunately it also took it's toll on my marriage. I have now come to terms with my infertility and have a wonderful new husband who has vowed to love me no matter what may happen."

Allison writes:
"I was truly touched by your last entry (12/5) and said a small prayer for all of the couples out there struggling to have a child. I know - I was one of them too. I had two miscarriages (in a row) but now I am pregnant with our first child (due in May). Your entry will help others (like me) realize that we are not alone in the pain and guilt (mine was pretty bad). Good luck to you and best wishes on a life full of adventures."

From Bonnie...
"I am sobbing from your touching story of your beautiful family. My youngest daughter tried everything you did but was unsuccessful...but they have adopted a little girl which has brought such joy to their lives. I had no idea what anguish was till she experienced this. God bless you for who you are."

And LeAnn...
"I just read your baby blog and Im still wiping tears from my eyes...I suffered my second miscarriage on Thanksgiving but Im keeping hope that I will be able to conceive soon. We have a beautiful 3yr old girl named Martina and I am blessed. We just hope we can be a bit more blessed someday."

And a man who identifies himself as a "proud father and devoted husband" says --
"Your blog note "here goes" touched me and brought back memories both sad and happy. I found myself both crying and smiling as I read your story. Again, I was very touched. We had tried for many years to have our first child with little success. Basal thermometers, test after test, try after try, followed by failure after failure.....and unfortunatetly miscarriage after miscarriage. Never a concrete explanation why, just encouragement to continue on. Unbearable hurt and pain.Well, I know you are busy with your blessed family so I will bring this to a close........I also need to go to be with my blessed family........... beautiful 6 and 8 year old boys. Both angels of course. Oh -- by the way I represent the 10% (as you stated) of your blog audience. P.S. continue your blog - I am hooked !!

And how's this -- from Renee -- to sum up the agony of infertility?
"I too have had a struggle with child bearing this year. I lost my first baby to miscarriage in May and have since met a lot of strong women who have had the same experience. My loss has made me realize what a blessing and a miracle each and every child is...the amazing things that have to happen at each and every step of development to ensure that a healthy baby results still astonishes me! Before my loss, I took being pregnant for granted...so I have really learned an important lesson from this, but at the expense of a baby that I had grown to love. I am pregnant again and due at the end of May...and have experienced a rollercoaster of emotions since I first learned the news. I worry constantly that something will go wrong...as all mothers worry about their children every second. I have vowed to take each day one at a time and try not to think too far into the future...but I can't help feeling that I have been robbed of a carefree pregnancy experience. Thank you for allowing me to share my story with you...and congratulations again on your new baby. I think that maybe you should consider keeping up the blog as Ryan grows...I know I have looked forward to new entries and I am sure there are many other new mothers out there who would like to know they aren't alone in their struggles between work and motherhood.

And finally -- from Pat:
"I read your story this morning and I cried and I cried and I'm still crying. My husband and I have 1 child now 29 yrs. old. Born in 1976 they used to call them AIDS babies--artificial insemination donor sperm. We know what a gift from God you have. To this day I still call him my gift from God. At 10 yrs. old he also survived a brain cancer that most children were still dying of at that time. Only 2 yrs. ago did we find out that he is in fact my husband's biologial son. What a trip life has been. Trying to have a child is a hardship that a person cannot know unless you have been there. That little life that you ultimately bring into the world takes on a meaning that only you can understand and appreciate.Lastly enjoy every moment of mischief that 3 little boys are capable of. When the mischief isn't there you pray to God for it as much as you prayed for Him to give you that little life. Enjoy the mischief, be part of it, put them up to it. Mischief is a childs work! Love ya. "

See? There is so much going on out there that we would never realize in our wildest dreams. So many "perfect" lives, "with-it" marriages and "beautiful" people who are suffering in ways we can't even imagine. Perhaps the message for all of us is to be less quick to judge or categorize... to not think everyone else has it "all together" -- even when it looks like they do... or to take just one more moment before making up our minds about each other. We at least owe each other that much, don't we?

And to all of you still struggling to conceive... I feel your pain. I understand. So many of us do. Please know that you are not alone. And that some day... you WILL understand why you're walking the path you are.

Thank you -- all of you -- for helping ME. Now... you'll have to excuse me... Ryan is crying and if I don't nurse him -- my chest is likely to explode. (Joe would hate that. I've only had boobs three times in my life. ;)

Love you--
wb

Well, it's a little before 8PM and with Joe with Michael and Jack in the basement playing hockey and Ryan lying snugly in my lap, I think I have some moments of clarity here to wrap up the day. I made a perfectly average meal of enchiladas and salad, so I feel that the day is worth winding down. Of course, with one final post that to me, doesn't feel final in the least.

I'm not sure how many of you are reading this blog or why, to be perfectly honest. I can't imagine my life is all that terribly exciting to actually read about, but so many of you are encouraging me to continue, so foreward we go. Is it that we're all in the same boat together, and because of that, it's encouraging to read of another person's trials and missteps? Or is it that parenthood is so innately connecting that we're all somehow tied together -- whether we've had children or just so desperately hope that we someday will? I would have to say that 98% percent of you who respond with e-mails are women, and that is deeply rewarding. It's such a cat fight out there in the "real" world... and so... sitting in my Wagoneer wood-paneled office with the most awful floor you've ever seen... I'm comfortably insulated from the negativemeisters and naysayers out there. After all -- there is something so perfectly perfect about a new baby, isn't there? Unless... you struggle to have one. Which Joe and I -- and countless others of you out there -- have.

We tried for 3 years to have another child. If I heard one more person say "Be thankful for the two you have" or "When are you going for number three?" I was likely to kill someone. What was the problem? My early morning shift? My age? What? And to make matters worse, while I knew something was wrong, Joe wasn't convinced. Why are doctors so damn practical? I made the appointment at the fertility clinic and went alone after the news the next day.

If you think it would be fun to be "recognized" as a TV person, try walking into one of these places. There's no mystery about why you're there. It's not for a new set of radials, or some advice about estate planning, or anything else. YOU'RE THERE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GET PREGNANT. What's the shame in that, you ask? Well, there is none. But there is a pain so intense -- a searing so deep you can actually feel your soul with your toes -- it takes your breath away. It's an emptiness so vast that no touch from your husband, no support from your mother, not even weeks of prayer at church or self-talks in bed late at night can soothe you. And when you walk in to that clinic, you keep your eyes to yourself. You're all there for the same reason. Acknowledging each other only makes it more real.

After a year of tests and a nebulous diagnosis -- "unexplained infertility" -- Joe and I suffered through three rounds of IUI -- intrauterine insemination. Basically turkey basting my cervix with his sperm. I'd wait. Watch the calendar. Try not to get excited. And then plummet to the deepest depression I'd ever experience when each month... our tries failed. My friends got pregnant. My co-workers got pregnant. My sister got pregnant. And while I was deeply happy for all of them, their wondrous accomplishment pushed me deeper into despair. I have never know depression, my friends, until Joe and I went through this.

Finally -- I told Joe that I couldn't take it anymore. We had only one shot left. IVF. Harvest my eggs... fertilized with his sperm... and pray for success. God love him. He knew I was at the end. I think I actually frightened him. He, for the first time, could not console me. He couldn't take the pain away. All my best friend could do was provide half the recipe of life.

After weeks of shots, endless blood tests, egg extraction, fertilization, implanation, waiting, nail biting, exhaustion and prayer... we found out one of the two embryos we had implanted had actually nestled inside me and started to develop. And that, friends, is my sweet Ryan James. My miracle. The greatest gift I have ever known. Greater than Michael and Jack? No. Just different. Eye-opening. The beginning of a new chapter in my life.

I'm not sure why God wanted me to go through this whole process. Who He thinks I can help... and why, for that matter. But in the 9 months since Ryan was conceived, I have been witness to so much pain out there. Women AND men so desperate for children, they cry when they tell me. And when I tell my story -- for some of you -- there is hope. If it does anything to help you, then this perhaps is a journey I've suffered for a reason. If there is some hope you can salvage from my story, then know I stand beside you as you walk down that same path. And if you find out that there is no way for you and your spouse to have children of your own, know that I understand your suffering, and that you are not alone. I feel you pain. I share your agony. I stand beside you.

If you have never suffered any of this -- count your blessings this holiday season. Snd know this: For every 6 couples -- one will be incapable of conceiving. It may not be you. But it may be your sister. Your brother. Your best friend. Your co-worker. And they likely suffer in silence. If you are pregnant, rejoice... but remember those voices who feel this pain you do not.

Ryan is getting fussy now so I'd best wrap this up. If this post leaves you untouched, so be it. But if I've helped one of you -- even just one -- then I feel better. You are NOT alone. And you never will be.

God bless -- and good night, friends. Peace be with you all.

Hi everyone! I just made a pot of eggnog coffee and am finally starting to feel like a human being again. Sheesh. Ryan is up almost every hour it seems with terrible gas pains -- you know -- the writhing, back-arching, screaming stints? I had forgotten that just like jaundince, his big brothers also went through this God-awful phase when they were little munchers, too. I have learned however, and this is big for me, the art of going BACK to sleep. Unbelievable. Where have I been all these years? Was I just too stupid to realize that living like the walking dead is really not living at all? Well -- nevertheless -- we are surviving. And a few of you have asked me some questions in your e-mails that I should probably answer.

First. The apple pie was awful. I find that I can't feed Ryan, follow a recipe, watch Michael and Jack sword fight, AND pay bills... all at the same time. There was a crucial ingredient I missed out on. Yeah. Sugar.

One of you asked if I have any help here at home. Indeed. I have a lovely young lady come over every morning and stay until around noon to help with Michael and Jack. I hate calling her a nanny because that word has always felt so impersonal. She's become a member of our family (and the boys sometimes call me her name. Gotta love it!) I've also learned that if I don't get out of bed and "help" Michael get ready for school, the kid does everything by himself, with her supervision. Amazing how moms can really ruin a routine.

Third, I've heard stories from so many of you about your own children, your own experiences, and your sagest advice: appreciate and enjoy every moment because all too quickly, our children are grown. I took a few minutes at 2:30 this morning (after putting Ryan down, AGAIN :) and tiptoed into Michael and Jack's room. What peaceful little buggars they are when they're sleeping! But you are so right out there, people. I really need to slow down and appreciate all of this, because soon...in the coming months as I approach my 30th birthday (HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA) I'll be that much closer to losing these precious times. Thank you for reminding me of what really matters.

And finally... for those of you who've written and shared painful stories of wanting to have children but being unable to -- I am touched by your honesty. And your courage. It's one of the hardest things for a man or a woman to want something so badly... only to learn that it is not possible. I thank you for your selflessness. It's not easy to celebrate someone else's joy, especially when that celebration leaves you empty. I know all about that... and I'm going to elaborate more in my next post. I think I have a lot to tell so many of you out there that you don't know... and in so doing, I may actually be able to give a little something back to the many, many people out there who've made living in Pittsburgh the most wonderful experience for me.

I hear Ryan waking up, so let me feed him, take a shower, grab something to eat and take Jack to school. He's "snack helper" today and is busy making chocolate chip cookies for his classmates in honor of his birthday. I'd better get in on the action to keep him from cooking as poorly as I.

More soon, friends!!

I can't tell the hundreds of you who've written to me since Ryan's birth how thankful I am for all your kind words of support...and more recently...your gracious advice! So many of you have given me fantastic suggestions to deal with Michael (who now always feels "too sick" to go to school every morning. Nice try.) and Jack (who seems never to hear me when I'm speaking directly to him.) I've heard from soldiers in Iraq, old friends from high school and grad school, and even from one Pittsburgh family that remembers seeing me on television in St. Louis many years ago when I was just starting my reporting work. Your e-mails have kept me going! Thank you for taking the time to be interested -- and to share you kind words of support.

I've learned that it's precisely my being home every morning that's likely throwing the boys so out of whack. After four years of waking up with only Joe home and me at work since 3:30AM, it's weird for them to see me here, day after day. Michael seems to think we're all having a blast -- playing games and goofing off -- when he marches off to school. I took some of your sage advice and spent a good hour with him alone yesterday... playing hockey. My back's killing me this morning (those darn sticks aren't quite tall enough) but the smile on his face as he played goalie was worth every moment. I guess the toughest transition will be understanding that I simply can't do everything he wants, WHEN he wants to do it. But I have to make sure that there is time...always.

Ryan is growing like a weed. He's just two ounces shy of 7 pounds and seems to have sprouted two inches, according to the pediatrician's office. Last night he slept 5 hours...straight! I rushed into his room just to make sure the little buggar was breathing all right. God. The torture we put ourselves through.

Well -- today is another day. There's a lot to look forward to! I'm going to try to make an apple pie. That's my mission. How did my mother get the stupid crust around the edges to look so perfect? Yep. I'm definitely on maternity leave. :)

Have a great day everyone!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

It's a snowy Thursday here in Pittsburgh -- perfect weather for family, good food and football! I have a few minutes to say hello to you all before my husband Joe and I give Ryan his first official bath. The child doesn't much care for water -- or wipes, for that matter -- so this should be a vocal affair. Ryan is still around the six pound mark and seems so tiny, especially when I lay him down next to either Michael (soon to be 6) or Jack (turns 4 in two weeks). These three boys are giving Joe and me a run for our patience. Any advice out there? :)

I've shirked my responsibilities in learning how to attach digital pictures to these blogs. This whole medium still seems pretty foreign to me. I'll keep this post pretty short (just in case I blow it) and see how I fare in sending you pictures from the hospital. I'm serious when I ask any of you parents of three or more kids out there to offer advice about how best to deal with older brothers who try to get away with murder when a new child enters the house! AAAGH!!

Have a blessed holiday, everyone, and many thanks to the hundreds of you out there who've sent the nicest e-mails to my family. Talk to you soon!

They're home from the hospital and doing great, said Channel 4 Action News anchor and reporter Wendy Bell.



Wendy joined us on Channel 4 Action News at 5 p.m. on Monday with newborn son, Ryan, and his two big brothers.
Did you miss it? Click here to watch the video clip!



Ryan James makes baby number three for Wendy and her husband, Joe.



She is two weeks into her eight-week maternity leave, Wendy said.

If you're a regular viewer of WTAE Channel 4 Action News, you may be wondering, "Where's Wendy Bell?"

Well, please join us in welcoming a new addition to the WTAE Channel 4 family... because Wendy gave birth to her third child Wednesday morning.

Ryan James weighs in at 6 pounds, and he's 19 inches long.



Wendy and the baby are doing great, along with her husband, Joe, and big brothers Michael and Jack.



Of course, Wendy will be off the air for a while -- and that's why we're starting this blog. Wendy will be posting updates right here during her maternity leave, so keep checking back for those messages!