I had a cheeseburger the night before Lukas was born. I will always remember that because I thought my early contractions were just the gurglings of an unhappy pregnant tummy that had just been fed junk food. We were at my parent's house, just to get out for a bit and get our minds off of the waiting game. Lukas was not born nearly four weeks early as his sister had been. He was born two days before his due date, and at that point, I'd been through so much pre-labor (false labor) that I didn't even realize it was the real deal. I sat at my parent's house that Thursday night, before contractions began, and just zoned out. I was exhausted and hadn't been sleeping much for at least 4 weeks at that point, and the thought of going into labor while feeling that tired was actually freaking me out a little bit. Being at my parent's house made me feel calm, vegging out and watching Funniest Home Videos while Ella played with Nana. And after the third or fourth fast food commercial, even the non-pregnant people in the room started commenting that a cheeseburger sounded pretty good. Once we'd eaten and sat around for a while longer, we headed home to start another restless night's sleep.
I started the night off in my bed, and I remember getting up to go to the bathroom probably around 1 or 2 AM and feeling Lukas shift and hit my bone. One of my midwives had told me that once Lukas' head clicked into place, labor would probably start immediately. I jokingly thought to myself, "Gee, maybe this is it" but I didn't think much more of it at that point. I couldn't get comfortable in bed like usual so I ended up spending several hours on the couch, trying to sleep while sitting up. I had a stomachache but nothing was coming in rhythm or even felt like contractions at that point. Eventually, I was tired enough to sleep in my bed, but after an hour or so of laying down, Ella was awake and crying. I remember it was 4:30 in the morning because I remember that I'd only been asleep for about an hour at that point and I clearly thought to myself, "I can't believe it's 4:30 in the stinking morning and I've only been asleep for an hour and Ella is awake." Stephen went to check on her and came back to tell me that she had a bloody nose, which was so strange and random. He cleaned her off in the bathroom and I went in with them because I had to pee (like usual). He put Ella in our bed and I called him into the bathroom to share the lovely news that I had lost a whole lot of "stuff". I hate to even write it because even the words are so nasty... but let's just say it rhymes with fucous flug. ;) I remember saying that labor might finally be starting, but I'd been losing my plug off and on so I didn't think too much of it. I went back to bed and laid down, finally awake enough to realize that I was definitely having contractions. I started timing them and they were coming rhythmically, though somewhat irregularly, but after a half hour I nudged Stephen over Ella's sleeping body and said that it might be time to pack up and go in the coming hours. It was 5:30, and I decided to get up and go to the bathroom again. Only this time, there was blood, so I called to Stephen and said, "Ok, it's definitely time to call my mom."
It was weird, because even after seeing the blood, I still had this, "I wonder if this is really labor" thought, but in the few short minutes it took Stephen to call my parents, the contractions starting getting really intense. He hadn't even hung up the phone yet when I yelled at him to tell them to come FAST! I got myself ready (well, all that really means is that I put on a sweatshirt over my tank top and capri pjs) and started walking around my house. It had been 5:45 when Stephen called my parents, and by the time my mom and Gelsea got there at 6:15 I couldn't talk through the contractions and I had to lean on something to take the pressure off my back during each one.
We left pretty much the second that my mom arrived, and on the way there, Stephen made the decision to jump on the freeway even though we'd previously discussed avoiding the freeway so we wouldn't get stuck in potential traffic. It was one of those things that even though we'd talked it through and even though we both know that traffic is horrible on this particular freeway 90% of the time, he just couldn't shake that "the freeway will be faster" thought and decided to go for it. Unfortunately, even at 6:15 AM, the traffic on I-84W is horrible. Even more unfortunately, there's no exit for a couple of miles once you get on the freeway near our house, so we were in it to win it whether we wanted to be or not. So, yes, just like in the movies, my husband was weaving in and out of traffic as I was waving and yelling at cars next to me while pointing at my stomach as if to say, "Do you SEE this?! You WILL yield to THIS!!!" Of course, everyone avoided eye contact with the crazy lady so it didn't even help us and I spent at least ten minutes considering the possibility that I would give birth on the side of the road.
It was during this time that I knew I was in the transitional phase of labor, which is something that happened after I was at the hospital with Ella. The thought was really jarring, knowing how much faster things were going and how exhausted I already felt. When we got to the hospital, I didn't even think I could walk across the parking lot so I had Stephen drop me off at the door. I waddled in and made it as far as the visitor's welcome desk. The woman who was at the desk was so incredibly kind. She smiled and said, "You must be heading to the maternity ward" and then I squatted on the floor, hanging on to the counter with my palms, and she realized that I needed some help pronto. A guy was walking by and stopped to ask me if I needed a wheelchair, a look of concern on his face. I honestly couldn't come up with a response to that question because my decision-making ability was out the window at that point, but I eventually said no, that it'd be better for me to keep walking. The amazing woman from the desk, who looked like she must be a grandmother, came and walked me to the elevator. She held my shoulders and stopped with me while I breathed through contractions and knelt against the wall, holding on to the railing. By the time we got to the elevator, Stephen had met up with us and we all rode to the maternity ward. I went to the check in desk and squatted on the floor, grasping the counter and moaning. They told me I could skip the paperwork and took me to a birthing room.
Once inside, I met my nurse Summer who insisted on putting an IV on me so she could give me antibiotics for group B strep. I was so frustrated with the monitoring and the IV process, because I knew the antibiotics would be pointless. I kept wiggling around on the bed, knowing I needed to move around. My midwife Linda checked me and I was 8 cm. At that point, it was around 7 and we'd been at the hospital for 10 or 15 minutes. I asked to use the jacuzzi tub but it had to be cleaned because someone else had been using it. This really annoyed me since I was not in a patient mood and after ten minutes or so, I realized there was no point in waiting because I wouldn't have any time to use the tub anyway. I asked to use the shower in my birth room and my midwife gave the go ahead. We finally got the IV thing in the top of my hand, which was really uncomfortable and I just wanted to get in the shower so badly. I remember yelling (yes, yelling) at the nurse that the IV didn't matter because there's no way I'd have the antibiotics in my system long enough to make a difference anyway. They have to be in your system for 3 hours before giving birth for them to have any positive affect whatsoever. She still insisted on putting it in, which is hospital policy I'm sure, but we never did get the antibiotics in my system so it was pointless. I feel justified a bit by pointing this out. Pardon my self-righteous attitude for a minute. Just let me indulge myself. Stupid IV. I finally got to use the shower and the hot water on my back helped alleviate some pain, but it wasn't the soothing relief I'd been hoping for. I remember getting in the tub when I had Ella, and those moments in the water calmed me and gave me a chance to catch my breath. No such luck this time. After about five minutes, I told Stephen that I needed to push and he went to get the nurse.
When she came in the room, my nurse Summer told me that Linda was with another mom who was ready to give birth and it was possible that Summer would be the only person in the room if I were to give birth right away. It just was all happening so fast and they weren't prepared for it, especially because I was apparently one of many moms who decided to have her baby on Friday morning. The maternity ward was hopping! Summer checked me and I was at 9.5 cm but I had a bit of a lip hanging over Lukas' head so she helped to stretch that while I pushed slightly. Around that time, Linda came in and laughingly said that I was going to beat the other mama who had been in labor for much longer than I'd been at that point. She broke my water for me and told me to get ready to push.
I wish I could say it was one of those zen birth experiences and my body handled the pain like a champ, but that would be a lie. Don't judge me, but I was cursing like a sailor and crying my eyes out because it felt like my hips were being ripped from their sockets. It was the worst pain I'd ever experienced, and I felt so out of control. I kept wanting it to slow down, to give me a chance to catch my breath, and I remember repeatedly saying that I couldn't push because I was too tired. I felt drained. But I did push, as hard as I could, and in three or four monster pushes, Lukas was out and on my belly. I fell back onto my pillows and cried with relief because never in my LIFE had I wanted so badly for something to be over. I was in such a state of shock, holding my gorgeous boy, and I kept laughing and staring at Stephen in total wonder at the fact that any of it had even happened. It had been 5:30 that morning that I'd realized I was in labor, and here it was, 7:51 AM and I was holding my son. Less than 2 1/2 hours from start to finish, and they were by far the most intense 2.5 hours of my life.
Lukas was 8 lbs 3 oz, and 21 inches long. He was perfect. Beautiful red skin, a head covered with thin, shiny golden brown hair and the cutest little eyes. He was born with a furrowed brow, with such a swollen little crease between his eyes that it made him look like a tiny little bulldog. He started nursing within ten minutes, and he went for a full 15 minutes on each side before I stopped him and gave my poor body a break. He was so calm, this swaddled little bundle of baby looking up at us and sleeping off and on. I started to process the events of the morning and realized that it had been a very traumatic experience. I'd been prepared for a natural birth and I knew it would likely be fast. Ella's labor was quick as well, but the early labor phase for Ella was longer and I was more rested going into the experience. It was much smoother. With Lukas, it felt like a train wreck. I was shell shocked. The pain had been excruciating. One of my other midwives, Lisa, stopped by later that day and she helped me to process. She explained that because my labor had gone so quickly, my body did not have the chance to release all the necessary hormones that would have dulled my pain a little bit and helped to calm me down. Normally, during a natural birth, the body has a chance to absorb these hormones and it works at a natural pain-killer to numb the body a little bit. That didn't happen for me with Lukas like it had for Ella, and I attribute all of that extreme pain and trauma to the speed of the birth. There's no other way to say it... it was just so stinking fast.
Lukas' birth left me in such a state of shock and it took me a while to recover. In some ways, I'm still recovering because I still can't tell his birth story without recalling the sense of panic and fear that I felt during the process. Of course, it wasn't a negative experience and the story of his birth makes me feel happy and proud but it felt like something that happened TO me rather than something that I DID, if that makes any sense. I'm still sorting through the emotions behind it and if I'm honest with myself, it still makes me scared to think of doing it again someday. It also makes me feel like I should probably move next door to the hospital just in case it's even faster next time. But seeing my son now makes me sure that I'd go through the experience a thousand times more if that is what it took to have my sweet boy. I am so in love with him. Life hasn't slowed down much since having him, which is why I'm only now writing this and he is five months old. But he is the best thing to have happened to our little family of three. Ella loves her brother and we could not be more blessed. I mean that genuinely... the blessing of my husband and my children bowls me over and hits me deep at my core. I think about how grateful I am for them and sometimes I can hardly breathe, knowing how imperfect I am and what a gift it is to be twice trusted to nurture a child. And now, five months later, I have finally written down his story so we can all remember it as he grows. My little boy, who came crashing into the world... I love you. I'd do it again and again just to be with you.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Friday, August 5, 2011
Almost There
Today I am more pregnant than I have ever been before. I had Ella "yesterday" in a sense, at 36 weeks 4 days gestation, so every day of Lukas' pregnancy from here forward is treading into uncharted territory. So far, today feels a whole lot like yesterday... but ask me again in a week or two.
I've felt all along that he would not be as early as his sister, though I have felt that he would be early nonetheless. I've had August 10th in my head for months, but who knows. I do sense a change this week. These past few months, I have been out of my mind with nesting. We literally did a top-to-bottom on our home, going through every cupboard, every closet, room by room, and getting rid of anything we did not need or want. Downsizing has been wonderful, since I remember that first year with Ella (and really, every year since)and all of the STUFF that can accumulate. It kind of felt like we were cleansing or purging the home to gear up for the winter. Spring cleaning that lasted well into the summer.
And I had these enormous amounts of energy! June and July were two of the busiest, most productive months we've had, which is ironic considering Stephen was laid off the whole time and I was 7 and 8 months pregnant. But something shifted on Monday. We completed the last big task (a huge garage sale) on our list over the weekend and I woke up on Monday feeling tired. Not just tired, but exhausted. In the past few days, I have taken naps (something I hadn't done since the first trimester) and still been ready for bed by 11. That might seem late, but my nesting urges had me awake and vacuuming past midnight a few times. It was scary. Yesterday, I hit a wall at 7:30 and could do nothing but sleep. I woke up at 10, sorted the laundry and took a shower, and was back in bed by 12. I thought I'd awaken today with energy galore after all the sleep I've been getting, but truthfully it's been hard to fight the urge to take yet another nap.
Maybe my mind is finally in tune with my body. I can no longer "mind over matter" it and keep plugging away at my to-do list, because there really isn't much left to do.It *almost* makes me want to add to the list so that I stay busy and productive. Time would move faster and besides, it's better for my body to stay active. But after these past few months, a few weeks of down time before Lukas comes does sound like a pretty good idea. It won't be long before I'm up at night nursing and getting far too little sleep and trying to adjust to parenting two tiny people. I should have grace for myself right now and just relax. It sure does make time move slower, though.
I'm excited for Sunday. I'll be 37 weeks, which is considered term. I think technically 38 weeks is full term, and anything before 37 weeks is pre-term, but for some reason 37 weeks is just called term. It's like the interim where really, for the most part, babies are usually done with development, but there's some that need a little more time so they won't lump week 37 into the FULL term category. Nonetheless, with my little man measuring at close to 39 weeks right now, there will be something very relieving about hitting the 37 week "term" mark. And after all of that hoping to get to at least 37 weeks, won't it be funny if he then rides it out to the full 40? Or even 41 or 42? Hah! That would be ironic. Even so, thinking of the 40 week mark being only 3 weeks from now, it doesn't seem far away at all. I do know that they will be a pretty uncomfortable few weeks, since he is measuring two weeks ahead and I already feel much further along than I ever did with Ella. But time passes, and 3 weeks really does seem like a drop in the bucket.
Stephen has continued to apply for many jobs, and my hope is that something is right around the corner. September would be a wonderful time for a job to pop onto the radar, after we've had Lukas and settled in for a week or two. My prayer is that a great job with more than enough provision is waiting for us as summer comes to a close. He also registered for Fall term at PCC, something that is equally scary and exciting for me to think about. On the one hand, the thought of him getting a job AND going back to school full time just after we have a baby is a little daunting. But it also means progress and I am so proud of my husband for the strides he is taking to better our family. He's such a hard worker with a servant heart and I can't say enough how grateful I am for him.
His classes should not be too bad (knock on wood) as he's taking Geology of the Pacific NW and Speech, one on Wednesday nights and one on Thursday nights, as well as an online required Writing class. I think we're both a little anxious about the Speech class but I know he'll be great. Geology should be a breeze and an enjoyable subject for him. And writing, though it was something he dreaded during his first few terms, has become something he's really good at and can do rather well. I make a pretty good editor as well, and a great (though at times obnoxious) cheerleader and deadline-setter. :)
I'm a little sad that I won't be doing this term with him. The two terms we've taken together have been really great, and he's only got a few more terms til his AA is complete so we have a limited amount of time left to tackle this school thing together. But I hope to take Winter term with him as long as we've settled into a healthy family groove by then. If Lukas is the laid back baby I've been praying for, it should be possible. We'll see. Then we'd take Spring term together as well, which will be Stephen's final term for his Associates Degree!
Well, here I go, planning our next year of life... I'm very good at being a visionary person. First things first, though. Have this baby. :D
I've felt all along that he would not be as early as his sister, though I have felt that he would be early nonetheless. I've had August 10th in my head for months, but who knows. I do sense a change this week. These past few months, I have been out of my mind with nesting. We literally did a top-to-bottom on our home, going through every cupboard, every closet, room by room, and getting rid of anything we did not need or want. Downsizing has been wonderful, since I remember that first year with Ella (and really, every year since)and all of the STUFF that can accumulate. It kind of felt like we were cleansing or purging the home to gear up for the winter. Spring cleaning that lasted well into the summer.
And I had these enormous amounts of energy! June and July were two of the busiest, most productive months we've had, which is ironic considering Stephen was laid off the whole time and I was 7 and 8 months pregnant. But something shifted on Monday. We completed the last big task (a huge garage sale) on our list over the weekend and I woke up on Monday feeling tired. Not just tired, but exhausted. In the past few days, I have taken naps (something I hadn't done since the first trimester) and still been ready for bed by 11. That might seem late, but my nesting urges had me awake and vacuuming past midnight a few times. It was scary. Yesterday, I hit a wall at 7:30 and could do nothing but sleep. I woke up at 10, sorted the laundry and took a shower, and was back in bed by 12. I thought I'd awaken today with energy galore after all the sleep I've been getting, but truthfully it's been hard to fight the urge to take yet another nap.
Maybe my mind is finally in tune with my body. I can no longer "mind over matter" it and keep plugging away at my to-do list, because there really isn't much left to do.It *almost* makes me want to add to the list so that I stay busy and productive. Time would move faster and besides, it's better for my body to stay active. But after these past few months, a few weeks of down time before Lukas comes does sound like a pretty good idea. It won't be long before I'm up at night nursing and getting far too little sleep and trying to adjust to parenting two tiny people. I should have grace for myself right now and just relax. It sure does make time move slower, though.
I'm excited for Sunday. I'll be 37 weeks, which is considered term. I think technically 38 weeks is full term, and anything before 37 weeks is pre-term, but for some reason 37 weeks is just called term. It's like the interim where really, for the most part, babies are usually done with development, but there's some that need a little more time so they won't lump week 37 into the FULL term category. Nonetheless, with my little man measuring at close to 39 weeks right now, there will be something very relieving about hitting the 37 week "term" mark. And after all of that hoping to get to at least 37 weeks, won't it be funny if he then rides it out to the full 40? Or even 41 or 42? Hah! That would be ironic. Even so, thinking of the 40 week mark being only 3 weeks from now, it doesn't seem far away at all. I do know that they will be a pretty uncomfortable few weeks, since he is measuring two weeks ahead and I already feel much further along than I ever did with Ella. But time passes, and 3 weeks really does seem like a drop in the bucket.
Stephen has continued to apply for many jobs, and my hope is that something is right around the corner. September would be a wonderful time for a job to pop onto the radar, after we've had Lukas and settled in for a week or two. My prayer is that a great job with more than enough provision is waiting for us as summer comes to a close. He also registered for Fall term at PCC, something that is equally scary and exciting for me to think about. On the one hand, the thought of him getting a job AND going back to school full time just after we have a baby is a little daunting. But it also means progress and I am so proud of my husband for the strides he is taking to better our family. He's such a hard worker with a servant heart and I can't say enough how grateful I am for him.
His classes should not be too bad (knock on wood) as he's taking Geology of the Pacific NW and Speech, one on Wednesday nights and one on Thursday nights, as well as an online required Writing class. I think we're both a little anxious about the Speech class but I know he'll be great. Geology should be a breeze and an enjoyable subject for him. And writing, though it was something he dreaded during his first few terms, has become something he's really good at and can do rather well. I make a pretty good editor as well, and a great (though at times obnoxious) cheerleader and deadline-setter. :)
I'm a little sad that I won't be doing this term with him. The two terms we've taken together have been really great, and he's only got a few more terms til his AA is complete so we have a limited amount of time left to tackle this school thing together. But I hope to take Winter term with him as long as we've settled into a healthy family groove by then. If Lukas is the laid back baby I've been praying for, it should be possible. We'll see. Then we'd take Spring term together as well, which will be Stephen's final term for his Associates Degree!
Well, here I go, planning our next year of life... I'm very good at being a visionary person. First things first, though. Have this baby. :D
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Changes
Today, I am 34 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Lukas Jameson will come crashing into our lives sometime in the next 5 weeks and it is hard to believe how quickly, and how slowly, this process has been. The thought that we could be mere weeks from meeting our fourth family member has me shaking with anticipation and completely in shock at how quickly this has come about. And yet, I think back to when I found out I was pregnant, just before Christmas; I think back to the first trimester, which coincided with winter term of school, and that seems like an entirely different lifetime. That is pregnancy: the fastest and slowest 40 weeks of your life.
It still amazes me, the contrast between Ella's pregnancy and this one. I spent the whole time dreaming of being a mom the first time around, as I could only imagine what it would be like to have a baby. This time I AM a mom and I've spent the entire time making pb&j sandwiches, getting entirely too little sleep, folding pink shirts that go inside a yellow dresser, playing hopscotch, potty training, dancing along to Barney and dressing up in cowgirl hats and princess crowns. It is only in the quiet moments, typically just after Ella goes to bed, that I sit and spend time with Lukas, though he fills every spare thought throughout each day.It is not a love less fierce, but it is a love that must be shared,and figuring out how to do that has been strange but wonderful. I think it will be somewhat unfathomable until I see him, until I know who he is, but the point is that now I know I can love him like I love Ella. Because I already do, as much as is possible without seeing him. He's become a part of my body, a part of my life, a part of me, and I am in love.
Ella has spent the last year of her life rapidly turning into a little girl. In some ways, I am grateful, though it's stung as well.It helps me to know that she will have her own identity, her own age group, her own place in our family. I will not have two babies. I will have a little girl and a baby boy. Earlier this year, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be great to tackle a few of these "growing up" issues with Ella before Lukas is born? Can't we ditch the binky, transition to a big girl bed, work on potty training, and all before August? The tasks seemed daunting but my girl blew me away with her flexibility and adaptability. The big girl bed came in March. Never did I mention that she needed to ditch the crib, nor did I bring up the fact that Lukas would be using it. I just shared in her excitement at being a "big girl" and she relished the opportunity to step into something new and exciting. She took to it the very first night and never looked back. A few months later, we launched a calculated attack on the the bink and it was gone within a week, much to our relief. She adjusted incredibly well, though I won't say she tackled this particular goal with the same zeal as she had with her bed. Regardless, one week for a bink addict to ditch the habit had me amazed at her ability to adapt.
Finally, the big one: potty training. We tried a bout in April, to no avail. She needed a break, and I was more than happy to oblige. As a matter of fact, I obliged a little too generously, and it wasn't until Stephen caught the vision in late June that we decided to give it another go. We started on June 27th and learned the secret to success a few very messy days later: let her run around naked. A very refined method, sure... but it worked and we never looked back. We also put her frog potty chair in the living room as a reminder for her, and after she got that down pat at home (which only took 3 or 4 days), we started slowly working toward a more traditional approach to the potty. Loose pants, no panties for a few days. Then panties and pants. Somewhere in there, we moved the frog potty into the bathroom and once she got used to running in there, we switched to a step-stool and one of those potty seats that sits on the actual toilet. She took to it like a champ.
Somewhere during week two we started venturing out of the house diaper-free, and after a few flops, it was as though a lightbulb clicked. Now, here we are, 3 weeks later and we haven't used a diaper in a week, even at night. There are still accidents but we just deal with them. Never do we just grab a diaper as a response to an accident anymore, and I've got half a pack of size 4s that I think we may not ever have to touch again. IT FEELS AMAZING. And somewhere in the bink-ditching, bed-embracing, diaper-freeing moments of the last several months, my baby started to seem less and less like a baby. I have watched her embrace her brother in ways I couldn't imagine, either. Her total confusion grew into mild curiosity and then into full-blown love as she watched my belly swell and change these past several months. Now she talks to Lukas, hugging my stomach often and calling him "my Lukas". She tells me, "Mom, Lukas will cry a lot, because he's a baby. But mom, he'll also sleep and eat and I can hold him. And he'll be cute and someday he'll get bigger and we can play!"
I totally get that her connection to him is limited to my belly right now, and the actual incorporating of a brother into her life may not be all puppies and sunshine, but it gives me such hope. She already wants to help me, to love him, to share with him. She's always had very natural maternal instincts and I can't wait to see that play out. I was two weeks shy of three when my brother was born and I can't remember any jealousy or rough transitions as he became part of our family. I only remember my Mom telling me how much she needed me to help take care of him, and feeling this fierce, protective love from the first time I saw him. It's still there today. I hope and pray the same is true for Ella and Lukas. I hope she never feels threatened but always knows how proud we are of her and how much she is wanted and needed as a part of this family.
And here I am, about to have a baby, and still talking about my girl. What can I say? She's been our whole world. I still get hit with these moments of absolute shock when I realize this is really happening. We're having another child. Lukas' baby shower was on Sunday (it rained absolute buckets, in the middle of July) and things started to hit home for us then. Opening tiny packs of diapers, setting up his crib set, beginning to pack his diaper bag for the hospital... oh, my. We're having a baby. How did I spend nine months living and breathing this with Ella, only to find myself 5 weeks from my due date and feeling completely caught off guard this time? Stephen set up the small pack'n'play tonight, which we'll be using in our bedroom until he's ready to transition to the crib. We've made a list on the fridge of all the things we needed to organize, tackle, accomplish before Lukas is born and it's getting shorter every day.
It has helped that Stephen was laid off the last week of May, though I'm not saying that was an ideal situation. He continues to look for a job, but I am not-so-secretly hoping that at this point, the job opportunity waits until September to present itself. We've managed financially, though we're starting to get behind, and I cannot express how incredible it has been to have Stephen home during this last season before Lukas comes. He has tackled numerous household projects and helped me in my quest to organize every nook and cranny of our home. (Nesting hit me with a beastly ferocity a few months ago and has yet to relinquish its' grip.) Not to mention, we've been able to spend oodles of time together as a family, something we'd been craving for a long time as he's worked very hard without a single day off for family in the past year.
It seems like we should have panicked, a single-income family suddenly without work, with a small child and a baby on the way. But from the moment Stephen called me to tell me he'd been laid off, we both felt a huge sense of peace. I do not think this was an attack. I think this was a breather, a transitional season, a blessing in disguise. I am not naive to the fact that we need income, and fast... but we've been creative and resourceful and just downright BLESSED these past two months, and I believe my God can do that for the next two months as well. It doesn't mean we don't try, it doesn't mean he doesn't apply or give up the hunt or settle into a sedentary lifestyle, but it does mean that we don't worry, we don't fret, we don't complain and we don't give in to fear. And it doesn't mean I can't hope that my husband can stay home and enjoy the first few weeks with our son before getting back to the grind. There's no way he could have taken any time off at his last job. If God is providing time for our family to be a family, then I trust He will provide a job at the right time as well, and the resources to stay afloat in the meantime. Yes and amen.
Well, I've done my usual... put off writing for months and then spill out my soul regarding an overwhelming number of topics as though I've been holding my breath for months and finally have the chance to breathe. Consistency with habits has never been a strong suit of mine, but I do hope to be better at recording these life moments, big and small, for my own memory as well as to pass onto my children someday. I hope that, above all, as they read my words they will know that they are loved and adored. In these final weeks as a family of three, I am determined to cherish my daughter and anticipate my son as best I possibly can. It won't take much to accomplish this, as I am crazy in love with each and every person that makes up our little family. Even the ones I haven't met yet.
It still amazes me, the contrast between Ella's pregnancy and this one. I spent the whole time dreaming of being a mom the first time around, as I could only imagine what it would be like to have a baby. This time I AM a mom and I've spent the entire time making pb&j sandwiches, getting entirely too little sleep, folding pink shirts that go inside a yellow dresser, playing hopscotch, potty training, dancing along to Barney and dressing up in cowgirl hats and princess crowns. It is only in the quiet moments, typically just after Ella goes to bed, that I sit and spend time with Lukas, though he fills every spare thought throughout each day.It is not a love less fierce, but it is a love that must be shared,and figuring out how to do that has been strange but wonderful. I think it will be somewhat unfathomable until I see him, until I know who he is, but the point is that now I know I can love him like I love Ella. Because I already do, as much as is possible without seeing him. He's become a part of my body, a part of my life, a part of me, and I am in love.
Ella has spent the last year of her life rapidly turning into a little girl. In some ways, I am grateful, though it's stung as well.It helps me to know that she will have her own identity, her own age group, her own place in our family. I will not have two babies. I will have a little girl and a baby boy. Earlier this year, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be great to tackle a few of these "growing up" issues with Ella before Lukas is born? Can't we ditch the binky, transition to a big girl bed, work on potty training, and all before August? The tasks seemed daunting but my girl blew me away with her flexibility and adaptability. The big girl bed came in March. Never did I mention that she needed to ditch the crib, nor did I bring up the fact that Lukas would be using it. I just shared in her excitement at being a "big girl" and she relished the opportunity to step into something new and exciting. She took to it the very first night and never looked back. A few months later, we launched a calculated attack on the the bink and it was gone within a week, much to our relief. She adjusted incredibly well, though I won't say she tackled this particular goal with the same zeal as she had with her bed. Regardless, one week for a bink addict to ditch the habit had me amazed at her ability to adapt.
Finally, the big one: potty training. We tried a bout in April, to no avail. She needed a break, and I was more than happy to oblige. As a matter of fact, I obliged a little too generously, and it wasn't until Stephen caught the vision in late June that we decided to give it another go. We started on June 27th and learned the secret to success a few very messy days later: let her run around naked. A very refined method, sure... but it worked and we never looked back. We also put her frog potty chair in the living room as a reminder for her, and after she got that down pat at home (which only took 3 or 4 days), we started slowly working toward a more traditional approach to the potty. Loose pants, no panties for a few days. Then panties and pants. Somewhere in there, we moved the frog potty into the bathroom and once she got used to running in there, we switched to a step-stool and one of those potty seats that sits on the actual toilet. She took to it like a champ.
Somewhere during week two we started venturing out of the house diaper-free, and after a few flops, it was as though a lightbulb clicked. Now, here we are, 3 weeks later and we haven't used a diaper in a week, even at night. There are still accidents but we just deal with them. Never do we just grab a diaper as a response to an accident anymore, and I've got half a pack of size 4s that I think we may not ever have to touch again. IT FEELS AMAZING. And somewhere in the bink-ditching, bed-embracing, diaper-freeing moments of the last several months, my baby started to seem less and less like a baby. I have watched her embrace her brother in ways I couldn't imagine, either. Her total confusion grew into mild curiosity and then into full-blown love as she watched my belly swell and change these past several months. Now she talks to Lukas, hugging my stomach often and calling him "my Lukas". She tells me, "Mom, Lukas will cry a lot, because he's a baby. But mom, he'll also sleep and eat and I can hold him. And he'll be cute and someday he'll get bigger and we can play!"
I totally get that her connection to him is limited to my belly right now, and the actual incorporating of a brother into her life may not be all puppies and sunshine, but it gives me such hope. She already wants to help me, to love him, to share with him. She's always had very natural maternal instincts and I can't wait to see that play out. I was two weeks shy of three when my brother was born and I can't remember any jealousy or rough transitions as he became part of our family. I only remember my Mom telling me how much she needed me to help take care of him, and feeling this fierce, protective love from the first time I saw him. It's still there today. I hope and pray the same is true for Ella and Lukas. I hope she never feels threatened but always knows how proud we are of her and how much she is wanted and needed as a part of this family.
And here I am, about to have a baby, and still talking about my girl. What can I say? She's been our whole world. I still get hit with these moments of absolute shock when I realize this is really happening. We're having another child. Lukas' baby shower was on Sunday (it rained absolute buckets, in the middle of July) and things started to hit home for us then. Opening tiny packs of diapers, setting up his crib set, beginning to pack his diaper bag for the hospital... oh, my. We're having a baby. How did I spend nine months living and breathing this with Ella, only to find myself 5 weeks from my due date and feeling completely caught off guard this time? Stephen set up the small pack'n'play tonight, which we'll be using in our bedroom until he's ready to transition to the crib. We've made a list on the fridge of all the things we needed to organize, tackle, accomplish before Lukas is born and it's getting shorter every day.
It has helped that Stephen was laid off the last week of May, though I'm not saying that was an ideal situation. He continues to look for a job, but I am not-so-secretly hoping that at this point, the job opportunity waits until September to present itself. We've managed financially, though we're starting to get behind, and I cannot express how incredible it has been to have Stephen home during this last season before Lukas comes. He has tackled numerous household projects and helped me in my quest to organize every nook and cranny of our home. (Nesting hit me with a beastly ferocity a few months ago and has yet to relinquish its' grip.) Not to mention, we've been able to spend oodles of time together as a family, something we'd been craving for a long time as he's worked very hard without a single day off for family in the past year.
It seems like we should have panicked, a single-income family suddenly without work, with a small child and a baby on the way. But from the moment Stephen called me to tell me he'd been laid off, we both felt a huge sense of peace. I do not think this was an attack. I think this was a breather, a transitional season, a blessing in disguise. I am not naive to the fact that we need income, and fast... but we've been creative and resourceful and just downright BLESSED these past two months, and I believe my God can do that for the next two months as well. It doesn't mean we don't try, it doesn't mean he doesn't apply or give up the hunt or settle into a sedentary lifestyle, but it does mean that we don't worry, we don't fret, we don't complain and we don't give in to fear. And it doesn't mean I can't hope that my husband can stay home and enjoy the first few weeks with our son before getting back to the grind. There's no way he could have taken any time off at his last job. If God is providing time for our family to be a family, then I trust He will provide a job at the right time as well, and the resources to stay afloat in the meantime. Yes and amen.
Well, I've done my usual... put off writing for months and then spill out my soul regarding an overwhelming number of topics as though I've been holding my breath for months and finally have the chance to breathe. Consistency with habits has never been a strong suit of mine, but I do hope to be better at recording these life moments, big and small, for my own memory as well as to pass onto my children someday. I hope that, above all, as they read my words they will know that they are loved and adored. In these final weeks as a family of three, I am determined to cherish my daughter and anticipate my son as best I possibly can. It won't take much to accomplish this, as I am crazy in love with each and every person that makes up our little family. Even the ones I haven't met yet.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Mama's Boy
The big day before the big day finally came today! You know, not the actual birth but the day we learn whether this tiny baby is a boy or a girl. I have been on pins and needles since, well, the two pink lines showed up on the test. I get that some people are patient and like the surprise of waiting til the birth to find out, and I have serious respect for their restraint, but it's just so not me. I'm a planner, and especially since these two will be sharing a room, I've been anxiously waiting to see if I will just be adding another little girl to a very girly room complete with a very girly wardrobe or if I'd be weeding out pink things to make room for lots of blue! And now I know. And now I can begin to get ready.
We are having a son. I am having a son. I am the mother of a daughter and a son. It is a very strange thing to wrap my mind around, and I am loving every second of it. It's like, the moment you feel like you've got this parenting thing down, like you kind of know what you're doing, then you are thrown a curve ball. But it's the best curve ball ever. It's the chance to see the other side of the fence, to know what it is to relate to a tiny boy as well as a tiny girl. And, I'm sure, once the third comes along it will feel new all over again because even among the same gender there is such diversity in character and personality. Because, as parents, we probably don't ever really know what we're doing. So off I tread into uncharted territory, with thoughts of boy clothes and boy toys and boy questions. Will he make everything into a gun or a sword? Will he eat dirt? Will he hit things, throw things, make car sounds and train sounds and explosion sounds? Will he be louder than Ella? (Is that even possible?)
It's funny, because my initial instinct said girl. I think this was because I am due in August, six days after Ella's birthday, and my mind could easily see just how simple it would be... all of her clothes fitting her baby sister perfectly, and a room shared by two girls. The dolls, the toys, the curtains, everything would just fit for a girl. But at one of the first ultrasounds I had, I watched my little bean jumping all over the screen and got hit with this deep gut feeling of boy. Ever since then, I've been at a loss, trying to figure out whether to go with my initial instinct or my gut at the ultrasound. Every time someone would tell me that whatever I was thinking was probably right, it made me laugh inside, because the only thing I was certain of was that this was a baby. I had several dreams that it was a boy though, and one of them was last night, so I woke up today leaning toward blue.
The ultrasound tech had us on pins and needles for a bit. She looked around for about 30 minutes, getting pictures and measurements of all the organs and important inner workings of baby. I kept waiting for her to say, "Oh, I just saw it!" or "THERE it is!" in regards to the little parts necessary to know the gender, but she was tight-lipped. I was getting anxious, thinking of how ironic (and frustrating) it would be for someone like me, who's been on the edge of her seat for months waiting to hear the news, to have to make a second appointment because baby wouldn't cooperate. Then, after 30 minutes, we got the clear picture we'd been waiting for. The tech asked us if we had any last minute predictions as she drew a little arrow on the screen to point out the baby bits, and at that point it was pretty clear what we were having. We both said "It's a boy!" as we looked at the screen and she confirmed it for us right away. THEN she told us that she'd actually seen the boy bits at the beginning of the ultrasound but preferred to get some other measurements done before getting a clear shot for us. Hah! All of my nerves were for nothing. She was very tricky, that one.
Baby boy wasn't done with us yet, though. I had figured 20 minutes for the whole ultrasound and we were there for over an hour. He didn't want to move into the positions she needed to get a few pics of his organs. The last shot they needed was of his heart and the tech left the room several times so I could get up and move around to try to get baby to change positions. Most of the time, though, she'd come back after I'd done stretches, twists, toe touches and various other ridiculous contortions only to tell me that baby hadn't budged. By the time we left, we were flying to the Dollar Tree for "It's a Boy!" balloons and then on to pick up pizzas. Half of the fam was already in our driveway by the time we got home.
We snuck the balloons in the house and got them to our bedroom before everyone came inside. Almost everyone was able to make it. We were missing Stephen's parents, Auntie Faith, Uncle Gideon and Uncle Josh. This still left us with 14 people just in our immediate fam. (Have I mentioned that we have a giant family? Because we have a GIANT family.) After everyone gathered in the living room, Ella and I went to get the blue balloons and we sent her running into the living room to share the news with everyone. It was pretty awesome to see everyone's faces and to hear the chorus of "I knew it!" and "I told you!" It seems that most everyone had boy vibes this time around. It was such a special way to share our news.
Now we are quiet. Stephen (who knew it was a boy all along) is snoring next to me on the couch, Ella is snoozing in her big girl bed and I am on the couch, enjoying the peace after a busy and special day while feeling the kicks from my baby. My boy. We are having a son. And mama couldn't be more happy.
We are having a son. I am having a son. I am the mother of a daughter and a son. It is a very strange thing to wrap my mind around, and I am loving every second of it. It's like, the moment you feel like you've got this parenting thing down, like you kind of know what you're doing, then you are thrown a curve ball. But it's the best curve ball ever. It's the chance to see the other side of the fence, to know what it is to relate to a tiny boy as well as a tiny girl. And, I'm sure, once the third comes along it will feel new all over again because even among the same gender there is such diversity in character and personality. Because, as parents, we probably don't ever really know what we're doing. So off I tread into uncharted territory, with thoughts of boy clothes and boy toys and boy questions. Will he make everything into a gun or a sword? Will he eat dirt? Will he hit things, throw things, make car sounds and train sounds and explosion sounds? Will he be louder than Ella? (Is that even possible?)
It's funny, because my initial instinct said girl. I think this was because I am due in August, six days after Ella's birthday, and my mind could easily see just how simple it would be... all of her clothes fitting her baby sister perfectly, and a room shared by two girls. The dolls, the toys, the curtains, everything would just fit for a girl. But at one of the first ultrasounds I had, I watched my little bean jumping all over the screen and got hit with this deep gut feeling of boy. Ever since then, I've been at a loss, trying to figure out whether to go with my initial instinct or my gut at the ultrasound. Every time someone would tell me that whatever I was thinking was probably right, it made me laugh inside, because the only thing I was certain of was that this was a baby. I had several dreams that it was a boy though, and one of them was last night, so I woke up today leaning toward blue.
The ultrasound tech had us on pins and needles for a bit. She looked around for about 30 minutes, getting pictures and measurements of all the organs and important inner workings of baby. I kept waiting for her to say, "Oh, I just saw it!" or "THERE it is!" in regards to the little parts necessary to know the gender, but she was tight-lipped. I was getting anxious, thinking of how ironic (and frustrating) it would be for someone like me, who's been on the edge of her seat for months waiting to hear the news, to have to make a second appointment because baby wouldn't cooperate. Then, after 30 minutes, we got the clear picture we'd been waiting for. The tech asked us if we had any last minute predictions as she drew a little arrow on the screen to point out the baby bits, and at that point it was pretty clear what we were having. We both said "It's a boy!" as we looked at the screen and she confirmed it for us right away. THEN she told us that she'd actually seen the boy bits at the beginning of the ultrasound but preferred to get some other measurements done before getting a clear shot for us. Hah! All of my nerves were for nothing. She was very tricky, that one.
Baby boy wasn't done with us yet, though. I had figured 20 minutes for the whole ultrasound and we were there for over an hour. He didn't want to move into the positions she needed to get a few pics of his organs. The last shot they needed was of his heart and the tech left the room several times so I could get up and move around to try to get baby to change positions. Most of the time, though, she'd come back after I'd done stretches, twists, toe touches and various other ridiculous contortions only to tell me that baby hadn't budged. By the time we left, we were flying to the Dollar Tree for "It's a Boy!" balloons and then on to pick up pizzas. Half of the fam was already in our driveway by the time we got home.
We snuck the balloons in the house and got them to our bedroom before everyone came inside. Almost everyone was able to make it. We were missing Stephen's parents, Auntie Faith, Uncle Gideon and Uncle Josh. This still left us with 14 people just in our immediate fam. (Have I mentioned that we have a giant family? Because we have a GIANT family.) After everyone gathered in the living room, Ella and I went to get the blue balloons and we sent her running into the living room to share the news with everyone. It was pretty awesome to see everyone's faces and to hear the chorus of "I knew it!" and "I told you!" It seems that most everyone had boy vibes this time around. It was such a special way to share our news.
Now we are quiet. Stephen (who knew it was a boy all along) is snoring next to me on the couch, Ella is snoozing in her big girl bed and I am on the couch, enjoying the peace after a busy and special day while feeling the kicks from my baby. My boy. We are having a son. And mama couldn't be more happy.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Baby Mine
These past few months have given me a good reason to be MIA from writing, though I still wish I'd found the time. I took four classes, one of which was a writing class, and on the rare moments that I wasn't consumed by schoolwork, parenting or cleaning my house, you could find me lying comatose on the couch, drooling while watching mindless television. Don't judge. This happened approximately three minutes per week.
And yet now I am looking back over the past two months and I really can't believe that I didn't write any record of any of it, because about a billion things happened and to try to catch up would just be impossible. I want to write a little about this pregnancy since I have completely neglected to write anything down this time around. I'm starting to feel bad that I wrote novels about Ella's pregnancy and mum about this one. We discovered we were pregnant (ok, *I* was pregnant) on December 21st. I tested at night, on a whim, after having that pregnancy vibe for about a week. Even though those two beautiful lines were clear as day, it took a long time for me to accept this pregnancy as a reality. And even as I write that, I realize how much more often I called this my "pregnancy" verses my "baby" earlier on, since it just is hard to fully surrender to the reality of a healthy baby after losing a tiny one.
I called my mom within a day or two, and told her over the phone. She and I then shared with the rest of my fam on an individual basis. I just didn't want to make some big Christmas announcement and have to remember it like I do with our baby announcement at Ella's birthday party last year. In a similar vein, we shared with Stephen's mom and brother on Christmas Eve but kept from telling everyone as we didn't want to create any memories that would end up being sad. It seems really depressing now, since baby is healthy and growing just fabulously, but at that point I just wasn't ready to believe it was really going to happen. We were very much proceeding with caution. The family all knew by New Years and a few friends found out over the next few weeks but really, we guarded our little secret until ten weeks, when we finally found the hope and trust we needed to believe that baby was real.
We also went through a few panic moments earlier in the pregnancy. One day, I was just convinced that baby was gone. My symptoms were gone and I thought for sure it was happening again. So, we went in for an ultrasound at just shy of 8 weeks, and I was blown away by the sweet sight of that little heart beating on the screen. My baby was real. And I was in love. I had an ultrasound about five days later, because it had already been scheduled before my panic moment. I could have cancelled it but passing up another opportunity to see that sweet baby thriving was too hard to do!
Not long after that, I awoke in the morning to some bleeding and clotting. It's so funny in retrospect. I was freaking out at first, crying to Stephen and my mom on the phone. Mom came over, I got ready to go in for an ultrasound to confirm a miscarriage, Stephen flew home from work so he could join me, and in the midst of all of that I had this crazy peace overtake me and I knew. I knew that somehow, bleeding aside, baby was ok. And baby WAS ok. I had a subchorionic hemorrhage, meaning that some bleeding had occurred likely when baby's little egg implanted in my uterine wall, and had become trapped between the egg and the wall. Now that baby was growing, the blood was being pushed out. This comes with a slight risk of complications, but we just knew that things would be ok. And they were. A future ultrasound showed that the blood they'd found previously was gone, and baby was no longer at risk.
Not only did we have these pregnancy scares and apprehensions, but I was sick all the time during the first trimester (which coincided with my insane school term almost exactly). I had the same nausea I'd had with Ella, with the added pleasure of awful stomach acid up til about 10 weeks. I also got the stomach flu for a few days and three separate head colds, one of which lasted for a solid 14 days. All the while, homework was piling up and I was exhausted. Thankfully, though everything difficult was happening at once, it all got easier at about the same time too. My nausea completely subsided by week 15, and had started getting lighter by week 11 or 12. I survived finals week during my 16th week of pregnancy (and got straight A's last term!!!) and spring showed up after what felt like a the longest winter of my life. I should add that spring has been pretty awful, with a record amount of rain for the month of March. But at least the flowers are blooming, I don't feel like puking every two minutes or sleeping until my due date and I'm taking a few terms off so I'm home with my girl. Call it my own personal springtime, despite the rain. ;)
The second trimester has been delightful. It's different than the first time around. I felt baby earlier. People can call me crazy but I felt little flutters during my 10th week, and no, it wasn't gas. Flutters grew into taps by week 13 and full on suckerpunches starting this week (18). This baby also burrows. I've been able to feel baby balled up at the top, bottom or either side of my uterus since about week 12. It's this strange heavy feeling, especially when it's at the bottom. I told Stephen it kind of feels like when you're on an elevator or a plane and you get that pit in your gut like your stomach is being sucked out from underneath you. Very strange, especially if it happens while I'm walking! I've gotten used to poking and prodding a bit to get baby to move into a more comfy position. Well, more comfy for me, that is. I'm sure baby was just fine. :)
I also grew earlier. Like, two seconds after I was pregnant. I compared pics of me at 18 weeks with Ella to ones I took this week. Yeah... it's a lot bigger. My belly compares more with the size it was in my photos at 25-30 weeks with Ella. Based on this rate of growth, I'm a little scared for the 3rd trimester. Hah! I already looked at photos taken at 35/36 weeks with Ella (just before I gave birth at 36 weeks, 4 days) and I was scary giant. I may need my own time zone for this one, especially if I go to 40 weeks. That's the beauty of being short- there's nowhere to go but straight out!
And that's another thing- it is HARD to find maternity clothes in petite lengths. I don't know if they think short people don't get pregnant or what. But it's like most maternity clothes are made for people 6 inches taller than I am. I don't get it. I needed maternity clothes a lot sooner this time around, too, and winter maternity stuff is hard to find and not super comfy. Everyone always tells me how awful it is to be pregnant in the summer and how unlucky I am to be due in August again, but I gotta say- summer pregnancy kind of rocks. There is nothing more comfy than little cotton dresses and super stretchy capri leggings. And the flip flops! Ahhh.... can you hear me sighing contentedly? Cuz I totally am. I couldn't be happier to be due again in August. AND it means another summer birthday party! I can't wait. My only prayer is that I get a week on either side of Ella's birthday, just so each kiddo can have their own birthday time. And since a week after Ella's birthday is August 29th, a day AFTER my due date, I'm gonna go ahead and hope baby is at least a week EARLY and not the other direction. :)
But stop me before I get too ahead of myself, because before the birth there's still plenty to do and a big surprise in store. On Tuesday, April 12th, we'll discover more about who this baby is. Do we have a son? Do we have another daughter? I can't wait to find out! Everyone is saying it's a boy, but I suspect that's because we already have a girl. My first gut instinct was girl, but now with all these boy predictions I'm wondering if they're right. I don't care either way, but it's killing me not knowing! Is this the time that I get to say we have a son? Is this the time that Stephen has a boy to wrestle and play ball with? Or is this the time that we tell Ella she has a sister? Will we dig out her baby clothes that we packed up every time she grew out of yet another size and have another chance to see a tiny girl in them?
Either way, the main thing that has me marveling is how we've learned to trust and hope again through this baby's growth. I was so scared after our loss that we'd never have another baby. Even knowing how common miscarriage is, I don't think there are many women who can feel complete confidence after a loss and don't worry that maybe something is wrong with her. But learning to let go of the fears and trust in the One who gives and takes away has been sweet after the sorrow. I feel this baby kick and move and I KNOW that He is good. And even when we lost the baby that we'll never get to hold this side of eternity, we knew that He was good. I am so grateful for His gifts but I don't feel immune to loss and pain. I rest in this time with my growing baby, though, knowing that He has been whispering trust and hope to us. We will hold our baby this time. I know it. I'm so in love!
And yet now I am looking back over the past two months and I really can't believe that I didn't write any record of any of it, because about a billion things happened and to try to catch up would just be impossible. I want to write a little about this pregnancy since I have completely neglected to write anything down this time around. I'm starting to feel bad that I wrote novels about Ella's pregnancy and mum about this one. We discovered we were pregnant (ok, *I* was pregnant) on December 21st. I tested at night, on a whim, after having that pregnancy vibe for about a week. Even though those two beautiful lines were clear as day, it took a long time for me to accept this pregnancy as a reality. And even as I write that, I realize how much more often I called this my "pregnancy" verses my "baby" earlier on, since it just is hard to fully surrender to the reality of a healthy baby after losing a tiny one.
I called my mom within a day or two, and told her over the phone. She and I then shared with the rest of my fam on an individual basis. I just didn't want to make some big Christmas announcement and have to remember it like I do with our baby announcement at Ella's birthday party last year. In a similar vein, we shared with Stephen's mom and brother on Christmas Eve but kept from telling everyone as we didn't want to create any memories that would end up being sad. It seems really depressing now, since baby is healthy and growing just fabulously, but at that point I just wasn't ready to believe it was really going to happen. We were very much proceeding with caution. The family all knew by New Years and a few friends found out over the next few weeks but really, we guarded our little secret until ten weeks, when we finally found the hope and trust we needed to believe that baby was real.
We also went through a few panic moments earlier in the pregnancy. One day, I was just convinced that baby was gone. My symptoms were gone and I thought for sure it was happening again. So, we went in for an ultrasound at just shy of 8 weeks, and I was blown away by the sweet sight of that little heart beating on the screen. My baby was real. And I was in love. I had an ultrasound about five days later, because it had already been scheduled before my panic moment. I could have cancelled it but passing up another opportunity to see that sweet baby thriving was too hard to do!
Not long after that, I awoke in the morning to some bleeding and clotting. It's so funny in retrospect. I was freaking out at first, crying to Stephen and my mom on the phone. Mom came over, I got ready to go in for an ultrasound to confirm a miscarriage, Stephen flew home from work so he could join me, and in the midst of all of that I had this crazy peace overtake me and I knew. I knew that somehow, bleeding aside, baby was ok. And baby WAS ok. I had a subchorionic hemorrhage, meaning that some bleeding had occurred likely when baby's little egg implanted in my uterine wall, and had become trapped between the egg and the wall. Now that baby was growing, the blood was being pushed out. This comes with a slight risk of complications, but we just knew that things would be ok. And they were. A future ultrasound showed that the blood they'd found previously was gone, and baby was no longer at risk.
Not only did we have these pregnancy scares and apprehensions, but I was sick all the time during the first trimester (which coincided with my insane school term almost exactly). I had the same nausea I'd had with Ella, with the added pleasure of awful stomach acid up til about 10 weeks. I also got the stomach flu for a few days and three separate head colds, one of which lasted for a solid 14 days. All the while, homework was piling up and I was exhausted. Thankfully, though everything difficult was happening at once, it all got easier at about the same time too. My nausea completely subsided by week 15, and had started getting lighter by week 11 or 12. I survived finals week during my 16th week of pregnancy (and got straight A's last term!!!) and spring showed up after what felt like a the longest winter of my life. I should add that spring has been pretty awful, with a record amount of rain for the month of March. But at least the flowers are blooming, I don't feel like puking every two minutes or sleeping until my due date and I'm taking a few terms off so I'm home with my girl. Call it my own personal springtime, despite the rain. ;)
The second trimester has been delightful. It's different than the first time around. I felt baby earlier. People can call me crazy but I felt little flutters during my 10th week, and no, it wasn't gas. Flutters grew into taps by week 13 and full on suckerpunches starting this week (18). This baby also burrows. I've been able to feel baby balled up at the top, bottom or either side of my uterus since about week 12. It's this strange heavy feeling, especially when it's at the bottom. I told Stephen it kind of feels like when you're on an elevator or a plane and you get that pit in your gut like your stomach is being sucked out from underneath you. Very strange, especially if it happens while I'm walking! I've gotten used to poking and prodding a bit to get baby to move into a more comfy position. Well, more comfy for me, that is. I'm sure baby was just fine. :)
I also grew earlier. Like, two seconds after I was pregnant. I compared pics of me at 18 weeks with Ella to ones I took this week. Yeah... it's a lot bigger. My belly compares more with the size it was in my photos at 25-30 weeks with Ella. Based on this rate of growth, I'm a little scared for the 3rd trimester. Hah! I already looked at photos taken at 35/36 weeks with Ella (just before I gave birth at 36 weeks, 4 days) and I was scary giant. I may need my own time zone for this one, especially if I go to 40 weeks. That's the beauty of being short- there's nowhere to go but straight out!
And that's another thing- it is HARD to find maternity clothes in petite lengths. I don't know if they think short people don't get pregnant or what. But it's like most maternity clothes are made for people 6 inches taller than I am. I don't get it. I needed maternity clothes a lot sooner this time around, too, and winter maternity stuff is hard to find and not super comfy. Everyone always tells me how awful it is to be pregnant in the summer and how unlucky I am to be due in August again, but I gotta say- summer pregnancy kind of rocks. There is nothing more comfy than little cotton dresses and super stretchy capri leggings. And the flip flops! Ahhh.... can you hear me sighing contentedly? Cuz I totally am. I couldn't be happier to be due again in August. AND it means another summer birthday party! I can't wait. My only prayer is that I get a week on either side of Ella's birthday, just so each kiddo can have their own birthday time. And since a week after Ella's birthday is August 29th, a day AFTER my due date, I'm gonna go ahead and hope baby is at least a week EARLY and not the other direction. :)
But stop me before I get too ahead of myself, because before the birth there's still plenty to do and a big surprise in store. On Tuesday, April 12th, we'll discover more about who this baby is. Do we have a son? Do we have another daughter? I can't wait to find out! Everyone is saying it's a boy, but I suspect that's because we already have a girl. My first gut instinct was girl, but now with all these boy predictions I'm wondering if they're right. I don't care either way, but it's killing me not knowing! Is this the time that I get to say we have a son? Is this the time that Stephen has a boy to wrestle and play ball with? Or is this the time that we tell Ella she has a sister? Will we dig out her baby clothes that we packed up every time she grew out of yet another size and have another chance to see a tiny girl in them?
Either way, the main thing that has me marveling is how we've learned to trust and hope again through this baby's growth. I was so scared after our loss that we'd never have another baby. Even knowing how common miscarriage is, I don't think there are many women who can feel complete confidence after a loss and don't worry that maybe something is wrong with her. But learning to let go of the fears and trust in the One who gives and takes away has been sweet after the sorrow. I feel this baby kick and move and I KNOW that He is good. And even when we lost the baby that we'll never get to hold this side of eternity, we knew that He was good. I am so grateful for His gifts but I don't feel immune to loss and pain. I rest in this time with my growing baby, though, knowing that He has been whispering trust and hope to us. We will hold our baby this time. I know it. I'm so in love!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Hodge Podge
I keep trying to remember all of the cute/funny/off the wall things that Ella says so that I can write about them and let her read them someday, but then I sit in front of this screen and go completely blank. Let's see how much I can recall. I wish I could just record her life 24/7 so that I wouldn't ever forget any of these crazy funny or crazy sweet moments.
The other day, as she was in her crib, she told Stephen that she didn't need to go to bed yet because she's a grown up. When Stephen asked her how old she was, she said "I'm sixteen." Hah! I don't know what I love more- that she thinks 16 is a grown up or that she thinks she's got a shot at fooling dad into letting her stay up.
Ella's had her fair share of colds and stuffy noses this season. She's gotten used to having a humidifier going in her room to keep the stuffy nose at bay and allow her to sleep. So, the other night, she cries from her crib, "My nose is bugging me!" I go in, realize we'll need the humidifier and ask Stephen to set it up while I try to help her blow her nose. Of course, we really end up just snuggling on the floor while dad does all the work. As Stephen is filling a pitcher of warm water in the bathroom, Ella cuddles me and says, "Daddy gonna turn on my medicine fire." Hah! I guess she's been hearing humidifier as humidi-fire, and since humidi means nothing to her, she made the logical jump to medicine-fire. Extra cute is that she really does think there's some source of fire in it because of the steam pouring out of the top.
This one is a few months old, but Ella threw a monster fit a while ago. Time out in her crib was doing nothing to calm her, and she was shaking the crib rail, smacking the wall with her hand and absolutely going bonkers with her screaming and crying. Then, as she's smacking anything in sight with the palm of her hand, she starts yelling at the top of her lungs, "I'm freaking out! I'm freaking out!" I'm so glad I was in the other room for that one, so she couldn't see me bust up laughing. I also have NO idea where she picked up that phrase. It's not like I say that or anything. *Ahem*
Every time I prompt her to ask for something nicely (hinting at the P word) she sweetly smiles and says, "Nicely!" When she tries to say Bo Peep, she usually ends up saying "Pee Bo." The other day she woke me from a dead sleep at 6 am, screaming bloody murder. It's her bad dream scream. It rips my stomach open and makes me feel like I'm falling for a second before I shake my way back into reality and wake up to realize what's going on. I leaped from the bed, ran in to cuddle her, and asked if it was a bad dream. She weepily confirmed it. When I asked her what was in her bad dream so I could comfort her, she says, "Daddy tell me eat my bites and I say NO NO NO!!!" Uhhhh... THAT is the horror which ripped me from dreamland? On the other hand, I'm glad that those are the worst fears she's contending with right now.
And then there's her scary good memory. I don't know how she keeps track of things so well, but when I'm looking for my keys she's been known to tell me where they are. When she asked for her bink and I didn't know where it was, she told me, "In your coat, mama. 'Member?" And she was right- it was in my coat pocket, right where I stuck it a few hours before. I switched most of the contents to my new purse once my old purse's zipper busted, and was frantically looking for my checkbook one day when she said, "Your old purse, Mom!" She was probably guessing- and she was right. How does she even know to think of things like that? The other night, she wanted to take her Jessie doll to bed. She was sitting in her crib and I was searching the living room with no Jessie in sight. Suddenly, she yells from her room, "In the shopping bag, Mama!" and I look down and see a Target bag full of toys that Stephen had brought in from the car, with Jessie buried inside. I just don't get it. How is it that my 2 year old takes care of ME? How is it that I can barely keep my head screwed on and my toddler knows where my checkbook is? I don't know, but I'm grateful. God knew I needed a genius child to help with my scatterbrained ways.
Now I'm sitting here, trying to think of a few more memories, and I'm frustrated at how quickly they're gone. It seems like at least ten times a day I am floored by the things that she says and does, how much she's learning. How much she understands. I guess I've said enough for now. There's no way I could remember it all anyway. She's way too smart and clever. I get to hear this stuff all the time. :)
The other day, as she was in her crib, she told Stephen that she didn't need to go to bed yet because she's a grown up. When Stephen asked her how old she was, she said "I'm sixteen." Hah! I don't know what I love more- that she thinks 16 is a grown up or that she thinks she's got a shot at fooling dad into letting her stay up.
Ella's had her fair share of colds and stuffy noses this season. She's gotten used to having a humidifier going in her room to keep the stuffy nose at bay and allow her to sleep. So, the other night, she cries from her crib, "My nose is bugging me!" I go in, realize we'll need the humidifier and ask Stephen to set it up while I try to help her blow her nose. Of course, we really end up just snuggling on the floor while dad does all the work. As Stephen is filling a pitcher of warm water in the bathroom, Ella cuddles me and says, "Daddy gonna turn on my medicine fire." Hah! I guess she's been hearing humidifier as humidi-fire, and since humidi means nothing to her, she made the logical jump to medicine-fire. Extra cute is that she really does think there's some source of fire in it because of the steam pouring out of the top.
This one is a few months old, but Ella threw a monster fit a while ago. Time out in her crib was doing nothing to calm her, and she was shaking the crib rail, smacking the wall with her hand and absolutely going bonkers with her screaming and crying. Then, as she's smacking anything in sight with the palm of her hand, she starts yelling at the top of her lungs, "I'm freaking out! I'm freaking out!" I'm so glad I was in the other room for that one, so she couldn't see me bust up laughing. I also have NO idea where she picked up that phrase. It's not like I say that or anything. *Ahem*
Every time I prompt her to ask for something nicely (hinting at the P word) she sweetly smiles and says, "Nicely!" When she tries to say Bo Peep, she usually ends up saying "Pee Bo." The other day she woke me from a dead sleep at 6 am, screaming bloody murder. It's her bad dream scream. It rips my stomach open and makes me feel like I'm falling for a second before I shake my way back into reality and wake up to realize what's going on. I leaped from the bed, ran in to cuddle her, and asked if it was a bad dream. She weepily confirmed it. When I asked her what was in her bad dream so I could comfort her, she says, "Daddy tell me eat my bites and I say NO NO NO!!!" Uhhhh... THAT is the horror which ripped me from dreamland? On the other hand, I'm glad that those are the worst fears she's contending with right now.
And then there's her scary good memory. I don't know how she keeps track of things so well, but when I'm looking for my keys she's been known to tell me where they are. When she asked for her bink and I didn't know where it was, she told me, "In your coat, mama. 'Member?" And she was right- it was in my coat pocket, right where I stuck it a few hours before. I switched most of the contents to my new purse once my old purse's zipper busted, and was frantically looking for my checkbook one day when she said, "Your old purse, Mom!" She was probably guessing- and she was right. How does she even know to think of things like that? The other night, she wanted to take her Jessie doll to bed. She was sitting in her crib and I was searching the living room with no Jessie in sight. Suddenly, she yells from her room, "In the shopping bag, Mama!" and I look down and see a Target bag full of toys that Stephen had brought in from the car, with Jessie buried inside. I just don't get it. How is it that my 2 year old takes care of ME? How is it that I can barely keep my head screwed on and my toddler knows where my checkbook is? I don't know, but I'm grateful. God knew I needed a genius child to help with my scatterbrained ways.
Now I'm sitting here, trying to think of a few more memories, and I'm frustrated at how quickly they're gone. It seems like at least ten times a day I am floored by the things that she says and does, how much she's learning. How much she understands. I guess I've said enough for now. There's no way I could remember it all anyway. She's way too smart and clever. I get to hear this stuff all the time. :)
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Resolution
This past February I embarked on a pretty intense weight loss adventure, and I had some real success. I didn't reach the long term goal I set for myself, but after 6 months and losing 45 pounds I needed to take a break (mentally, physically and financially, as I was on a program that required purchasing food). It wasn't long after I'd ventured back into the real food world that I found out I was pregnant. At that point I'd gained 5 pounds back, which I'd been told to expect as part of the process of adjusting to higher caloric intake again.
I felt great going into the pregnancy an entire 40 pounds lighter than when I'd begun my pregnancy with Ella, but by the time I was 11 weeks pregnant I'd gained 20 pounds. Talk about bursting my bubble. I could not figure out why on earth my body was gaining so quickly with this pregnancy- I only gained 15 pounds total with Ella, and all in the second and third trimesters. Of course, hindsight tells me now that the reason I was gaining was because I was happily giving in to any craving that would help soothe the nausea (which meant a whole lot of starchy, bland foods) but my body wasn't burning extra calories because I'd lost the baby early in the process. So, feeding a hormonally pregnant body that isn't actually burning calories like a truly pregnant body is, in a word, a disaster. Instead of feeding a calorie burning, baby making machine, it was more like 11 weeks of feeding my body carbs while it was chock full of PMS hormones. And we all know how easy it is for our bodies to wreak havoc during "that time."
So, along with the loss of my baby, I have this constant reminder in the form of 20 excess pounds. Not to mention, it's the holidays and I am avoiding the scale like the plague because I have a sneaking suspicion that the grief eating I was doing after the baby (not to a crazy extent, but I'll be honest- ordering a pizza was much easier than cooking when I was working through the initial grief process) coupled with the almost immediate launch into the holiday season has me worried it could be more than 20 pounds by now.
And I could just cry. Weight loss has never been easy for me. I WISH I could be one of those people who drops their Pepsi habit and loses 40 pounds in two months. But I don't have any habits like that to drop, and in order for me to see any actual loss on the scale requires some serious, long term low-cal eating. We're talking 1,200-1,500 calories a day, for MONTHS. It's not something I can commit to right now, either, because we're still hoping to grow our family soon. And that requires me growing as well. The thought just about bowls me over when I think about all of the hard work I put into losing 45 pounds- and it could literally mean nothing in terms of weight within the next few months. SIX MONTHS of eating 1,200 calories a day, only to see it all come back within a year.
I guess I'm writing this because I feel this inexplicable need to explain myself to someone. My weight loss was obvious- people notice when you lose 45 pounds. And people were cheering me on. Now, I feel like a walking failure. Even the people that know about the miscarriage might not really connect the weight gain to it. I can hardly spend time with people anymore without this constant voice in the back of my head telling me that they have got to be thinking I really flubbed things up. I know it doesn't matter to anyone else as much as it does to me, but I'm not one to take failure lightly, even when it's not my fault.
I also don't like feeling this way. My body feels big again. I'm surprised that I put up with it for as long as I did, because I'm not even as heavy as I was when I started losing weight last February but even at this size I cannot stand my body. It's awkward, hard to dress, tired more often, and everything is a tighter squeeze. I also have that all over feeling of puffiness, like a blimp. I really am resolved to lose this weight again, but the wait is really frustrating.
My husband (who is wonderful in a thousand ways) says he can hardly notice a difference. Of course, he said that even at my heaviest weight. It's kind of sweet but also kind of discouraging. I mean, when he tells me I look as good as when we got married, all I can think is, "Did I really look this bad when we got married? Because I would feel like a hippo trying to stuff this body into a cute little wedding dress right now." I can't tell if it's supposed to be a compliment for my body now, or a major insult to my body then. Of course, I know that he means it in a good way... but leave it to my mind to twist it around. I think I'd rather hear that my weight gain is somewhat noticeable than not at all. I sure would hate to think that I look the same 30 or 40 pounds lighter than I am now, so it has to be a two-way street.
I don't know. I don't even know why I'm writing about this, if not for my need to just get it off my chest and have SOMEONE know and understand that this is not the result of a total lack of discipline and love for truffles. And also, because writing about it makes it real, which means writing about my resolve to lose this weight again makes THAT real as well. It might not be right away. I hope to spend a good portion of the next year growing a healthy baby, which is far more important to me right now than my looks.
Basically, I have to surrender to the idea that my brief glimpse at serious weight loss was just that- a glimpse- and not a long term option at this point. Gee, my body (and my wallet) are SO thrilled about that. But a woman's birthing years are just not a great time to focus on losing weight. They're just not. I refuse to be one of those women who just gives up and lets myself go, but on the other hand, I have to give myself room to live in real life. And real life is about loss and gain, both of which I've experienced in more ways than one over the past year. So, I resolve more than anything to have grace for myself, to try not to care what others think, and to focus on my family more than myself, even at the expense of my body image. While others are likely resolving to lose weight, I'll resolve to be content, be patient, be kind to myself. I hope that doesn't make me sound weak, or like I'm making excuses. But I'd rather make a resolution I can keep, and at this point, that's the best I can do. There will be a year that my resolution to reach my goal weight WILL be achieved. I truly believe that, and I know I can do it. But it's not this year, and I have to be ok with that.
I felt great going into the pregnancy an entire 40 pounds lighter than when I'd begun my pregnancy with Ella, but by the time I was 11 weeks pregnant I'd gained 20 pounds. Talk about bursting my bubble. I could not figure out why on earth my body was gaining so quickly with this pregnancy- I only gained 15 pounds total with Ella, and all in the second and third trimesters. Of course, hindsight tells me now that the reason I was gaining was because I was happily giving in to any craving that would help soothe the nausea (which meant a whole lot of starchy, bland foods) but my body wasn't burning extra calories because I'd lost the baby early in the process. So, feeding a hormonally pregnant body that isn't actually burning calories like a truly pregnant body is, in a word, a disaster. Instead of feeding a calorie burning, baby making machine, it was more like 11 weeks of feeding my body carbs while it was chock full of PMS hormones. And we all know how easy it is for our bodies to wreak havoc during "that time."
So, along with the loss of my baby, I have this constant reminder in the form of 20 excess pounds. Not to mention, it's the holidays and I am avoiding the scale like the plague because I have a sneaking suspicion that the grief eating I was doing after the baby (not to a crazy extent, but I'll be honest- ordering a pizza was much easier than cooking when I was working through the initial grief process) coupled with the almost immediate launch into the holiday season has me worried it could be more than 20 pounds by now.
And I could just cry. Weight loss has never been easy for me. I WISH I could be one of those people who drops their Pepsi habit and loses 40 pounds in two months. But I don't have any habits like that to drop, and in order for me to see any actual loss on the scale requires some serious, long term low-cal eating. We're talking 1,200-1,500 calories a day, for MONTHS. It's not something I can commit to right now, either, because we're still hoping to grow our family soon. And that requires me growing as well. The thought just about bowls me over when I think about all of the hard work I put into losing 45 pounds- and it could literally mean nothing in terms of weight within the next few months. SIX MONTHS of eating 1,200 calories a day, only to see it all come back within a year.
I guess I'm writing this because I feel this inexplicable need to explain myself to someone. My weight loss was obvious- people notice when you lose 45 pounds. And people were cheering me on. Now, I feel like a walking failure. Even the people that know about the miscarriage might not really connect the weight gain to it. I can hardly spend time with people anymore without this constant voice in the back of my head telling me that they have got to be thinking I really flubbed things up. I know it doesn't matter to anyone else as much as it does to me, but I'm not one to take failure lightly, even when it's not my fault.
I also don't like feeling this way. My body feels big again. I'm surprised that I put up with it for as long as I did, because I'm not even as heavy as I was when I started losing weight last February but even at this size I cannot stand my body. It's awkward, hard to dress, tired more often, and everything is a tighter squeeze. I also have that all over feeling of puffiness, like a blimp. I really am resolved to lose this weight again, but the wait is really frustrating.
My husband (who is wonderful in a thousand ways) says he can hardly notice a difference. Of course, he said that even at my heaviest weight. It's kind of sweet but also kind of discouraging. I mean, when he tells me I look as good as when we got married, all I can think is, "Did I really look this bad when we got married? Because I would feel like a hippo trying to stuff this body into a cute little wedding dress right now." I can't tell if it's supposed to be a compliment for my body now, or a major insult to my body then. Of course, I know that he means it in a good way... but leave it to my mind to twist it around. I think I'd rather hear that my weight gain is somewhat noticeable than not at all. I sure would hate to think that I look the same 30 or 40 pounds lighter than I am now, so it has to be a two-way street.
I don't know. I don't even know why I'm writing about this, if not for my need to just get it off my chest and have SOMEONE know and understand that this is not the result of a total lack of discipline and love for truffles. And also, because writing about it makes it real, which means writing about my resolve to lose this weight again makes THAT real as well. It might not be right away. I hope to spend a good portion of the next year growing a healthy baby, which is far more important to me right now than my looks.
Basically, I have to surrender to the idea that my brief glimpse at serious weight loss was just that- a glimpse- and not a long term option at this point. Gee, my body (and my wallet) are SO thrilled about that. But a woman's birthing years are just not a great time to focus on losing weight. They're just not. I refuse to be one of those women who just gives up and lets myself go, but on the other hand, I have to give myself room to live in real life. And real life is about loss and gain, both of which I've experienced in more ways than one over the past year. So, I resolve more than anything to have grace for myself, to try not to care what others think, and to focus on my family more than myself, even at the expense of my body image. While others are likely resolving to lose weight, I'll resolve to be content, be patient, be kind to myself. I hope that doesn't make me sound weak, or like I'm making excuses. But I'd rather make a resolution I can keep, and at this point, that's the best I can do. There will be a year that my resolution to reach my goal weight WILL be achieved. I truly believe that, and I know I can do it. But it's not this year, and I have to be ok with that.
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