My itty-bitty corner of the world now knows of your existence and what a joyous RELIEF it was to me to share the news finally!
I haven't really been able to write properly on my other blog because this pregnancy is currently so consuming, all I want to do is complain loudly and let my friends buy me ice cream.
It's difficult for me to write when I'm hiding so much of myself.
I thought and thought about how to share the news with everyone. I had to wait until we told the kids (which was just a week ago) and then our families (which was, for me, the day of Thanksgiving). By that point though, mostly anyone who sees me or has direct contact with me during a week's time knew what was going on. I was getting really paranoid that someone would accidentally say something to my boys, or that someone else's kids would, thinking my guys knew.
We waited so long only because of Brit's big birthday outing or I'd have told the kids immediately. Even if something had gone wrong right at the beginning, your siblings would have known. I would have wanted them to know. But we see my family frequently and I didn't want Greer bouncing up and down shrieking about a new sister coming before I'd had a chance to tell them myself. (Oh dear, if you are a boy, we may have a wee tad bit of an issue. Solvable for sure, but that little girl is DONE with the out-numbered thing. She's ready to move her furniture around for a crib spot for her "sister." I'm doing my best to constantly remind her that we have NO CHOICE in the matter but she just brushes that off like I never said a thing. Denial is not a productive emotion.)
I'm not sure when it occured to me to just link my blogs but once I thought of it, it just seemed like the perfect way to announce your impending arrival. I left a few obvious photo puzzles to solve and then just...opened this blog. It's been locked up tight until last night with no one, not even your daddy, getting a peek at my words.
But it was fun to wake up this morning and see that our friends and family had logged on and spent some time catching up with you and I! As my in-box filled with congratulatory emails and comments (left on the other blog), I just felt....happy. Lifted up. Loved.
We have a wide but tight circle of support and I'm so grateful for that. It makes things like sharing a pregnancy so much more delightful because so many are excited for all of us.
So, here's the good news:
I can make it through at least ONE day without acting like a narcoleptic slug AND I can hold onto all food matters--for one day.
That seems to be my limit because if I manage to pull off a Puke Pass one day, the next it ain't happening.
The next day, in fact, I will more violently sick but that Puke Pass for one day is almost worth the make-up misery.
I made it yesterday by the skin of my teeth and everyone that was crowding the sausage sample lady at Costco should be VERY grateful that I fought so valiently. Because when waves of sausage scented air would waft my way, I would be hit with my own wave (of nausea) so fierce that I would be frantically looking around for a Vomit Vault. And in the case of Costco and the sausage sample lady, it was a jumbo-sized trash-can right smack dab in the middle of lots of pushy sausage lovers.
I can't even write about this anymore because I'm starting to make myself sick just returning to the scene of the sausage crime.
Shudder.
My point is that I made it.
I did not...you know...into the trash can.
I probably looked like a crazy person though, talking to myself and gulping huge amounts of unscented air, all while spontaneously clapping my hand over my mouth and gagging, doubling over and squishing my eyes closed to make it all go very, very far away.
I can't wait until this stops, in case you were wondering.
There's more good news to share and it's this:
I am starting to have more productive mornings if I can stave off the nausea. If I can move slowly and nibble my toast and drink just a teensy bit of very unsweetened coffee, I might be all right.
Until...(here comes the bad news) the Four O'Clock Funk.
The hours from 4:00 until nearly 8:00 are horrible for me. I have reverse morning sickness, I think. I have cocktail-through-dinner-hour sickness.
And I'm having a love/hate relationship with food.
If I don't have at least a few bites with some regularity, I get queasy.
Eating makes me feel better momentarily but shortly afterward, I feel even queasier.
Dinner, as I've mentioned, is the worst offender for me though it my biggest (and most flavored) meal of the day and, therefore, it is the one that most frequently is left back in the potty.
Tonight was no exception--we had pizza and I snuck a few bites of clementine oranges and before the table had been cleared, I was locked in the bathroom.
And then I laid on the couch for three hours in a row, first napping and then just feeling sorry for myself.
But I see the date we're at--almost nine weeks (we switch weeks on Thursdays, at least I think I do, until my midwife tells me differently) which means I should be seeing some relief within the next week or two.
Please, please let it be a week or two. I don't know how I will survive this pregnancy if this happens to be one of the ones that makes a mama sick through week, uh, 40.
(Don't you DARE! That is a no-no, a big major no-no--not even Creux attempted that!)
Also new:
You're craving grapefruit. Interestingly, I only eat grapefruit about once a year; it's not my favorite fruit to eat, but suddenly I can't get enough. We've had two today. And last night, Daddy painstakingly juiced four big grapefruits so that I could have something other than water to drink (still incredibly thirsty, like willing to steal the Littles' sippies from them if it comes down to that) and guess who dumped every precious drop on the kitchen floor at barely 8am this morning. (Hint: rhymes with "boooo!")
And I hear you're able to move about already in there, an image that makes me giggle. You are so tiny (though approaching the much bigger lima bean size, bye-bye puny pinto!) and to picture you swaying around, checking out how all your new bits work just makes me laugh.
I'm "big enough" to maybe share some weekly snapshots of you so maybe we'll get some up this weekend.
Loving you already,
Mama
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
You Aren't Really Surprised, Are You?
Well, if you put two and two together, you now know that YEP, I'M PREGNANT!
I'm eight weeks along, due on July 9th.
And this new little slot in cyberspace is where I've been spending my time...the time that I'm not spending vomiting into the toilet, that is.
Awhile back, when I knew that a baby was looming in my future, I mentioned that I had decided to give my words to someone else for a bit, that I'd be spending less time on my regular blog as I worked "somewhere else."
My baby is the receiver of those words and it is my intent that the words written on these pages will be bound into a book for my baby to have for always and forever. It is the story of someone not yet here...but very present for me. I conceived the idea for this book almost around the time I conceived my child :) I felt a pulling to write somewhere else for a bit--not that my blog isn't meaningful but I wanted to try something new.
And I honestly don't think I could put my effort into anything more important than crafting a living memory for my unborn child.
It is my hope that this book will be a cherished keepsake for this baby....and my family...as the years pass.
I think we always wonder "how things were" when our parents were young and raising us and, as mothers, how they felt when pregnant. Were they sick? What did they crave? What thoughts, hopes, dreams did they hold for us during those long ten (it is TEN) months of pregnancy.
My life is crazy. I don't do baby books; I'm not the scrapbooking kind, nor am I very organized with my photos.
But for some reason, I use the Internet and I will journal my life away on it.
So, my life is crazy but I don't want to miss a thing--so I'm sticking with what works.
I hold in my hands an opportunity to allow this child, and my family and friends, to travel this road with me.
At some point, he or she will be able to sit down and read my thoughts and feelings and know my joy and anguish first-hand as I waited for his or her arrival.
I happily invite you to read along though I must admit that this is a bit more...intimate...for me than my normal jokey kid-writings. But I feel like my family and friends are weaved so very closely to my heart and soul and I rely heavily on the support that they give me and the happiness that they share with me. I would like to share this incredible time in my life with those who surround us with love and this is the most impactful of ways.
As this will eventually be a book, there will not be a comment section on this blog but I'd love to hear your thoughts via email. And as always, I thank you for sharing in my life. My writings have brought me closer to the friends I've always known and have connected me to virtual strangers and I'm hoping that this continues to do more of the same.
There are missing entries and as I update, I will post them at the top and then move them to the correct chronological order after a day or so. And this blog page is bare bones, it's been all I could do to just...write, much less add the details that I want on this space. As soon as I start feeling better, hopefully there will be some great (personal) changes made on this page.
I'll be honest--I'm barely keeping my head above water right now. I've never in my life been this wiped out, nor have I been sicker--never, not ever. I've literally been forcing myself to make the entries you see here because I know it's important for me to keep up on them. My lack of blogging on the Lifelines page is due in part to this blog, but also again, owing to the fact that I truly might be carrying twins. (That's a joke. I think.) Unfortunately, the missing pieces are biggies--the "we're pregnant!" announcement to kids and families but I'll get them up there. Also missing are photos, I do have a few and those will grow significantly as I do.
We are tenatively planning a homebirth for this baby (when you've picked your jaws up off the floor, keep reading--I'll give you a sec) and have our first meeting with the midwives next week. It's my hope to document as much of this pregnancy as possible though I may close this blog towards the end depending on content.
In the meantime, I'll just be here and there (Lifelines) and trying like hell to pull myself from the bog of mommy sick that I've landed in :)
This is a true labor of love, most definitely a gift of words, and it is my extreme pleasure to toil away the days, virtually scribbling as I go, expectant and awaiting my next little lifeline.
I'm eight weeks along, due on July 9th.
And this new little slot in cyberspace is where I've been spending my time...the time that I'm not spending vomiting into the toilet, that is.
Awhile back, when I knew that a baby was looming in my future, I mentioned that I had decided to give my words to someone else for a bit, that I'd be spending less time on my regular blog as I worked "somewhere else."
My baby is the receiver of those words and it is my intent that the words written on these pages will be bound into a book for my baby to have for always and forever. It is the story of someone not yet here...but very present for me. I conceived the idea for this book almost around the time I conceived my child :) I felt a pulling to write somewhere else for a bit--not that my blog isn't meaningful but I wanted to try something new.
And I honestly don't think I could put my effort into anything more important than crafting a living memory for my unborn child.
It is my hope that this book will be a cherished keepsake for this baby....and my family...as the years pass.
I think we always wonder "how things were" when our parents were young and raising us and, as mothers, how they felt when pregnant. Were they sick? What did they crave? What thoughts, hopes, dreams did they hold for us during those long ten (it is TEN) months of pregnancy.
My life is crazy. I don't do baby books; I'm not the scrapbooking kind, nor am I very organized with my photos.
But for some reason, I use the Internet and I will journal my life away on it.
So, my life is crazy but I don't want to miss a thing--so I'm sticking with what works.
I hold in my hands an opportunity to allow this child, and my family and friends, to travel this road with me.
At some point, he or she will be able to sit down and read my thoughts and feelings and know my joy and anguish first-hand as I waited for his or her arrival.
I happily invite you to read along though I must admit that this is a bit more...intimate...for me than my normal jokey kid-writings. But I feel like my family and friends are weaved so very closely to my heart and soul and I rely heavily on the support that they give me and the happiness that they share with me. I would like to share this incredible time in my life with those who surround us with love and this is the most impactful of ways.
As this will eventually be a book, there will not be a comment section on this blog but I'd love to hear your thoughts via email. And as always, I thank you for sharing in my life. My writings have brought me closer to the friends I've always known and have connected me to virtual strangers and I'm hoping that this continues to do more of the same.
There are missing entries and as I update, I will post them at the top and then move them to the correct chronological order after a day or so. And this blog page is bare bones, it's been all I could do to just...write, much less add the details that I want on this space. As soon as I start feeling better, hopefully there will be some great (personal) changes made on this page.
I'll be honest--I'm barely keeping my head above water right now. I've never in my life been this wiped out, nor have I been sicker--never, not ever. I've literally been forcing myself to make the entries you see here because I know it's important for me to keep up on them. My lack of blogging on the Lifelines page is due in part to this blog, but also again, owing to the fact that I truly might be carrying twins. (That's a joke. I think.) Unfortunately, the missing pieces are biggies--the "we're pregnant!" announcement to kids and families but I'll get them up there. Also missing are photos, I do have a few and those will grow significantly as I do.
We are tenatively planning a homebirth for this baby (when you've picked your jaws up off the floor, keep reading--I'll give you a sec) and have our first meeting with the midwives next week. It's my hope to document as much of this pregnancy as possible though I may close this blog towards the end depending on content.
In the meantime, I'll just be here and there (Lifelines) and trying like hell to pull myself from the bog of mommy sick that I've landed in :)
This is a true labor of love, most definitely a gift of words, and it is my extreme pleasure to toil away the days, virtually scribbling as I go, expectant and awaiting my next little lifeline.
8 Weeks, 2 Days
Last night, upon heading up to bed, I was far sicker than ever before.
Painfully, WOEFULLY, sick.
That was three for three yesterday--for every meal I ate, I battled the Porcelain Queen.
I limped to bed just...disheartened.
How in the world will I ever make it for another several weeks?
I've done literally nothing this entire holiday weekend except lay on the couch...and vomit.
That's truly been the extent of my Thanksgiving break.
I didn't have high hopes for today.
"Date Day."
Daddy and I needed to do some Christmas shopping and, knowing I'd be out all afternoon, away from my bed and my clean, clean potty, I was worried.
I've not been able to drink my normal massive mug of coffee (which I cherish very much, by the way), so some of my lethargy I attribute to a wicked caffeine withdrawl.
None of you babies has ever allowed me to savor my morning energy kick early on in pregnancy.
Which tells me that though the studies say it's not bad for you...it can't be that great either.
You know it's not needed therefore you make me PAINFULLY reject it.
Argh.
But this morning, I asked Daddy to make mine unsweet--normally the sweeter the better for me, but I can't stomach the syrupy-sugary taste right now.
He made it perfectly. And I was able to sip it down AND hold onto my toast.
I fought for it though, heading into the potty once and then, after gulping mass quantities of air and dry heaving a few times, I walked back out.
I'd already been through Hair and Makeup, you see.
Victory was mine.
And it was swuh-eeet!
We had a great day!
A GREAT day!
The sun was shining and the temperature was perfect for outdoorsy shopping so we headed up to Easton for the afternoon.
I did just fine until I started to get hungry and then I became really queasy.
Walking into a restaurant where many different food fragrances are whizzing through the air is just a death-trap for me.
I was literally gagging at the hostess stand, wanting to turn and run, but knowing that food was what would strangely make me feel better.
And it did!
We ate at Brio and I had, for the first time in weeks, a whole plate full of lettuce--a very yummy grilled chicken ceaser salad. (Which we loved so much, I've already made plans for our return later this week. YUM.) Our usual salad dressing is far too tangy for me right now so I've been unable to eat ANY salad since I began getting sick a few weeks back but this salad was perfect for us.
My energy stayed high the whole time we were out though I collapsed on the couch for a snooze minutes after walking through the door.
But I was able to rally again and actually sort of cleaned the house, which looks like CRAP, by the way.
When Mama is down, Daddy does an amazing job holding down the fort and he does clean up a lot but there's just too much for one person to do.
And he doesn't mind messes as much as I do.
He can go to bed just fine with untidy counters or toys left on the floor in the play room.
I can not.
When I wake in the morning, I have to be on the tip-top of my game and that kind of stuff distracts me and makes me feel like I'm already behind.
SO...we need to start feeling better because I have LOADS to do before you arrive and I spend three months doing nothing but being your 24-hour boobie bar.
I peeked a my weekly pregnancy book today and caught a glimpse of what you probably look like right now.
You're tiny, itty-bitty in fact, (I mentioned before, the size of a pinto bean) but you're almost fully formed.
You're looking very...humanish, my love :)
Back on week six, you reminded me of a wee shrimp, what with that curved tail.
Don't get my wrong, I was smitten by the shrimpy you, but it's wonderful to see how far you've progressed.
I certainly know how hard you're working in there because you are taking darn near everything I have to pull yourself together....but I don't mind.
Much. :)
WHAT you're living on is really sort of interesting to me since almost all of my food ends up in the toilet but you must be making do with something, huh?
Thanks for this great day.
I did not spend it wrestling my paranoia, like I did the last time you handed me a Puke Pass.
I just enjoyed it.
Loving you already,
Mama
PS...it would be simply divine if I could feel well enough tomorrow to at least bark out orders. We need to get our holiday decorations up and I really need to crack the whip on this family. I'm much more popular when I'm up and helping, instead of lying on the couch, wrapped up in my blankey, bossing everyone around while juggling my water and the remote. (What is with the massive water consumption, anyway? I'm so stinkin' thirsty, I could be dragging myself through the Sahara instead of just walking from the car to the kitchen.)
Alright kiddo. Off to bed we go....
Painfully, WOEFULLY, sick.
That was three for three yesterday--for every meal I ate, I battled the Porcelain Queen.
I limped to bed just...disheartened.
How in the world will I ever make it for another several weeks?
I've done literally nothing this entire holiday weekend except lay on the couch...and vomit.
That's truly been the extent of my Thanksgiving break.
I didn't have high hopes for today.
"Date Day."
Daddy and I needed to do some Christmas shopping and, knowing I'd be out all afternoon, away from my bed and my clean, clean potty, I was worried.
I've not been able to drink my normal massive mug of coffee (which I cherish very much, by the way), so some of my lethargy I attribute to a wicked caffeine withdrawl.
None of you babies has ever allowed me to savor my morning energy kick early on in pregnancy.
Which tells me that though the studies say it's not bad for you...it can't be that great either.
You know it's not needed therefore you make me PAINFULLY reject it.
Argh.
But this morning, I asked Daddy to make mine unsweet--normally the sweeter the better for me, but I can't stomach the syrupy-sugary taste right now.
He made it perfectly. And I was able to sip it down AND hold onto my toast.
I fought for it though, heading into the potty once and then, after gulping mass quantities of air and dry heaving a few times, I walked back out.
I'd already been through Hair and Makeup, you see.
Victory was mine.
And it was swuh-eeet!
We had a great day!
A GREAT day!
The sun was shining and the temperature was perfect for outdoorsy shopping so we headed up to Easton for the afternoon.
I did just fine until I started to get hungry and then I became really queasy.
Walking into a restaurant where many different food fragrances are whizzing through the air is just a death-trap for me.
I was literally gagging at the hostess stand, wanting to turn and run, but knowing that food was what would strangely make me feel better.
And it did!
We ate at Brio and I had, for the first time in weeks, a whole plate full of lettuce--a very yummy grilled chicken ceaser salad. (Which we loved so much, I've already made plans for our return later this week. YUM.) Our usual salad dressing is far too tangy for me right now so I've been unable to eat ANY salad since I began getting sick a few weeks back but this salad was perfect for us.
My energy stayed high the whole time we were out though I collapsed on the couch for a snooze minutes after walking through the door.
But I was able to rally again and actually sort of cleaned the house, which looks like CRAP, by the way.
When Mama is down, Daddy does an amazing job holding down the fort and he does clean up a lot but there's just too much for one person to do.
And he doesn't mind messes as much as I do.
He can go to bed just fine with untidy counters or toys left on the floor in the play room.
I can not.
When I wake in the morning, I have to be on the tip-top of my game and that kind of stuff distracts me and makes me feel like I'm already behind.
SO...we need to start feeling better because I have LOADS to do before you arrive and I spend three months doing nothing but being your 24-hour boobie bar.
I peeked a my weekly pregnancy book today and caught a glimpse of what you probably look like right now.
You're tiny, itty-bitty in fact, (I mentioned before, the size of a pinto bean) but you're almost fully formed.
You're looking very...humanish, my love :)
Back on week six, you reminded me of a wee shrimp, what with that curved tail.
Don't get my wrong, I was smitten by the shrimpy you, but it's wonderful to see how far you've progressed.
I certainly know how hard you're working in there because you are taking darn near everything I have to pull yourself together....but I don't mind.
Much. :)
WHAT you're living on is really sort of interesting to me since almost all of my food ends up in the toilet but you must be making do with something, huh?
Thanks for this great day.
I did not spend it wrestling my paranoia, like I did the last time you handed me a Puke Pass.
I just enjoyed it.
Loving you already,
Mama
PS...it would be simply divine if I could feel well enough tomorrow to at least bark out orders. We need to get our holiday decorations up and I really need to crack the whip on this family. I'm much more popular when I'm up and helping, instead of lying on the couch, wrapped up in my blankey, bossing everyone around while juggling my water and the remote. (What is with the massive water consumption, anyway? I'm so stinkin' thirsty, I could be dragging myself through the Sahara instead of just walking from the car to the kitchen.)
Alright kiddo. Off to bed we go....
Friday, November 27, 2009
8 Weeks, 1 Day
When I decided to write this book for you, I wasn't taking into account the fact that I'd be too sick and tired to form coherent sentences.
It's the day after Thanksgiving and I haven't be able to drag myself off the couch all afternoon.
Or evening.
Unless, of couse, you count the times I've stumbled to the table to eat something and then stumbled to the bathroom to immediately get rid of it.
I've got to hand it to you.
You've taken the whole "morning sickness" disorder and ripped the label to shreds.
"Morning?" you say. "Why in the world stop there?"
Little out-of-the-box thinker.
I'm sick after at least two meals a day with dinner being the worst offender.
Throwing up three sips of coffee and a piece of toast can't hold a candle to what it's like to heave up an entire filled-with-a-variety-of-flavors-and-WAY-chunky meal.
Boy, oh boy, are you lucky that, in addition to pregnancy hormones, I have fierce maternal love instincts as well.
I don't hold this against you.
But I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't admit to counting the days (probably 13) until this wicked sickness dissipates a bit.
I've had my fair share of prego yuck in my day but NEVER like this.
Congrats on that, little fiver. You will be notorious in this family for making mommy the Vomit Queen.
Yay to you.
Daddy is picking up my major slack around here and to his credit, he makes every weird snack I ask for, even when he knows I'll probably throw it up as soon as I'm done with it.
He lets me sleep, lets me lounge on the couch watching crap tv for hours on end, with nary a complaint.
He's a good man. (And really, an even better daddy, if you can imagine that.)
Tomorrow, you are going to have to be on your best behavior as I need to get some Christmas shopping done.
You are seriously impeding my desire to even get dressed in the mornings so I'm really asking for a lot, I know, but...I need to be a functioning member of society just for a few hours.
I won't promise you KFC but maybe a milkshake--deal?
Loving you already, little Sick-Maker,
Mama
It's the day after Thanksgiving and I haven't be able to drag myself off the couch all afternoon.
Or evening.
Unless, of couse, you count the times I've stumbled to the table to eat something and then stumbled to the bathroom to immediately get rid of it.
I've got to hand it to you.
You've taken the whole "morning sickness" disorder and ripped the label to shreds.
"Morning?" you say. "Why in the world stop there?"
Little out-of-the-box thinker.
I'm sick after at least two meals a day with dinner being the worst offender.
Throwing up three sips of coffee and a piece of toast can't hold a candle to what it's like to heave up an entire filled-with-a-variety-of-flavors-and-WAY-chunky meal.
Boy, oh boy, are you lucky that, in addition to pregnancy hormones, I have fierce maternal love instincts as well.
I don't hold this against you.
But I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't admit to counting the days (probably 13) until this wicked sickness dissipates a bit.
I've had my fair share of prego yuck in my day but NEVER like this.
Congrats on that, little fiver. You will be notorious in this family for making mommy the Vomit Queen.
Yay to you.
Daddy is picking up my major slack around here and to his credit, he makes every weird snack I ask for, even when he knows I'll probably throw it up as soon as I'm done with it.
He lets me sleep, lets me lounge on the couch watching crap tv for hours on end, with nary a complaint.
He's a good man. (And really, an even better daddy, if you can imagine that.)
Tomorrow, you are going to have to be on your best behavior as I need to get some Christmas shopping done.
You are seriously impeding my desire to even get dressed in the mornings so I'm really asking for a lot, I know, but...I need to be a functioning member of society just for a few hours.
I won't promise you KFC but maybe a milkshake--deal?
Loving you already, little Sick-Maker,
Mama
Friday, November 20, 2009
7 Weeks, 1 Day
The days are bad.
I can't motivate myself for anything.
I feel despair and desperation and I really miss my old self.
I just miss feeling...good.
I'm nauseated from sun-up to sun-down.
This is hard for me.
At the same time, my slightly swollen belly is a constant reminder of the wonderfulness of you.
And that slightly swollen belly is not as inconspicuous as I had assumed!
I figured that this little bulge of mine would probably garner some second glances but I was banking on the fact that people would just assume I'd been nibbling hard on party food all through November or something.
But...nope.
The questions are direct and definitely on the right track.
I noticed a fellow mom eyeballing my belly at the co-op pizza party yesterday.
She caught me looking at her and we shared a smile but I did not initiate any conversation.
Your siblings don't know still so the less who DO know, the better.
But as soon as I left, she approached another friend of mine and inquired about my blossoming and hard-to-hide belly bump.
I guess I was sort of shocked that it was THAT noticeable that it would prompt actual questions but I shouldn't have been.
Apparently, you are VERY obvious.
Later that night, another friend of mine, who is aware of your quiet existance, came up to me at Showcase and said, "You should NOT have worn that shirt! You just walked by me and I can TOTALLY tell that you are pregnant."
She knew I wanted to keep it under wraps a bit longer.
I was largely unsuccessful.
That same night, a complete stranger asked about you! Not directly to me, they asked their relative who is a great friend of mine but I was floored that someone who doesn't even know my typical shape has noticed you already.
Am I delusional in thinking that the boys don't know??
The bravest of all inquires came today when I was picking Greer up from preschool. I was a bit late and was the only Mama in the room at the time. I said hello to the teachers and walked over to sign Greer out and when I turned back around, I saw the women exchanging a certain...look.
We began conversing but one of them could not keep her eyes from slipping down to you.
But it was the OTHER one who surprised me with this:
"So. You turned around and we both looked at each other and we're wondering...???"
"Yes!" I rushed to answer, cutting her off because Greer was standing wrapped around my leg, "Yes, but my children don't know yet."
I was afraid that Greer would pick up on something.
She is very observant when it comes to her Mama.
We talked a little in code, I explained you were coming in the summertime, and that yes, we were very excited.
And then I said, "I'm surprised you asked me, honestly! I was just assuming most people would think I was just a bit chubby, and it's hard to know sometimes. You don't want to make a mistake and offend anyone!"
I said this because I was thinking of how mortified we all would have been had I NOT been pregnant.
She laughed, "Oh, it's actually pretty obvious with you. You're skinny with just a rounded belly so I felt safe asking."
I left that conversation, phoned your daddy and said..."We're out of time. We need to tell the kids and our families because EVERYBODY can apparently tell that I am growing this baby."
Your siblings will know this weekend.
Our families will be told this coming week.
And the whole wide world will know shortly after that.
I can't wait.
Loving you already,
Mama
I can't motivate myself for anything.
I feel despair and desperation and I really miss my old self.
I just miss feeling...good.
I'm nauseated from sun-up to sun-down.
This is hard for me.
At the same time, my slightly swollen belly is a constant reminder of the wonderfulness of you.
And that slightly swollen belly is not as inconspicuous as I had assumed!
I figured that this little bulge of mine would probably garner some second glances but I was banking on the fact that people would just assume I'd been nibbling hard on party food all through November or something.
But...nope.
The questions are direct and definitely on the right track.
I noticed a fellow mom eyeballing my belly at the co-op pizza party yesterday.
She caught me looking at her and we shared a smile but I did not initiate any conversation.
Your siblings don't know still so the less who DO know, the better.
But as soon as I left, she approached another friend of mine and inquired about my blossoming and hard-to-hide belly bump.
I guess I was sort of shocked that it was THAT noticeable that it would prompt actual questions but I shouldn't have been.
Apparently, you are VERY obvious.
Later that night, another friend of mine, who is aware of your quiet existance, came up to me at Showcase and said, "You should NOT have worn that shirt! You just walked by me and I can TOTALLY tell that you are pregnant."
She knew I wanted to keep it under wraps a bit longer.
I was largely unsuccessful.
That same night, a complete stranger asked about you! Not directly to me, they asked their relative who is a great friend of mine but I was floored that someone who doesn't even know my typical shape has noticed you already.
Am I delusional in thinking that the boys don't know??
The bravest of all inquires came today when I was picking Greer up from preschool. I was a bit late and was the only Mama in the room at the time. I said hello to the teachers and walked over to sign Greer out and when I turned back around, I saw the women exchanging a certain...look.
We began conversing but one of them could not keep her eyes from slipping down to you.
But it was the OTHER one who surprised me with this:
"So. You turned around and we both looked at each other and we're wondering...???"
"Yes!" I rushed to answer, cutting her off because Greer was standing wrapped around my leg, "Yes, but my children don't know yet."
I was afraid that Greer would pick up on something.
She is very observant when it comes to her Mama.
We talked a little in code, I explained you were coming in the summertime, and that yes, we were very excited.
And then I said, "I'm surprised you asked me, honestly! I was just assuming most people would think I was just a bit chubby, and it's hard to know sometimes. You don't want to make a mistake and offend anyone!"
I said this because I was thinking of how mortified we all would have been had I NOT been pregnant.
She laughed, "Oh, it's actually pretty obvious with you. You're skinny with just a rounded belly so I felt safe asking."
I left that conversation, phoned your daddy and said..."We're out of time. We need to tell the kids and our families because EVERYBODY can apparently tell that I am growing this baby."
Your siblings will know this weekend.
Our families will be told this coming week.
And the whole wide world will know shortly after that.
I can't wait.
Loving you already,
Mama
Thursday, November 19, 2009
6 Weeks, 6 Days
I made the strangest of phone calls tonight.
Honestly, I'm blaming you.
I would never, ever, do this on my own.
The call I placed was to your father.
And these were my exact words, "Would you think I was a crazy person if I asked you to pick up Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner?"
He replied with a laugh, "No, I'd think you were pregnant."
Okay, baby, it's time for some tough love because WE DON'T EAT FRIED CHICKEN.
As a matter of fact, we don't eat fried things!
And to frequent a fast food establishment like KFC is just downright...shockingly BAD for this family!
What is it you're after?
The fat?
That would be my guess.
But, sweet pinto-bean-sized darling, fat comes in milkshakes and chocolate chip cookie dough also.
(Or avocados. I could say that but if you're wanting fried chicken, I seriously doubt I'm going to sway you with a vegetable.)
So listen here.
We don't do fast food and there will be NO MORE KFC runs.
I will fight you tooth and nail next time because it was as disgusting as I remembered it being.
(Though the mashed potatoes were yummy.)
The kids were ASTOUNDED when Daddy walked into the house with like six bags of fast food yuck and to my dismay, they began cheering.
That's a slippery slope, sweet baby of mine.
You ask for beef and we're going to tangle.
Now...the veggie soup was a good choice, haven't had that in AGES!
And you keep asking for watermelon but it's the wrong season! I promise that we will both eat our weight in juicy watermelon come summer time.
Besides, I'll be as big as one by then :)
Loving you already, fried chicken baby,
Mama
Honestly, I'm blaming you.
I would never, ever, do this on my own.
The call I placed was to your father.
And these were my exact words, "Would you think I was a crazy person if I asked you to pick up Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner?"
He replied with a laugh, "No, I'd think you were pregnant."
Okay, baby, it's time for some tough love because WE DON'T EAT FRIED CHICKEN.
As a matter of fact, we don't eat fried things!
And to frequent a fast food establishment like KFC is just downright...shockingly BAD for this family!
What is it you're after?
The fat?
That would be my guess.
But, sweet pinto-bean-sized darling, fat comes in milkshakes and chocolate chip cookie dough also.
(Or avocados. I could say that but if you're wanting fried chicken, I seriously doubt I'm going to sway you with a vegetable.)
So listen here.
We don't do fast food and there will be NO MORE KFC runs.
I will fight you tooth and nail next time because it was as disgusting as I remembered it being.
(Though the mashed potatoes were yummy.)
The kids were ASTOUNDED when Daddy walked into the house with like six bags of fast food yuck and to my dismay, they began cheering.
That's a slippery slope, sweet baby of mine.
You ask for beef and we're going to tangle.
Now...the veggie soup was a good choice, haven't had that in AGES!
And you keep asking for watermelon but it's the wrong season! I promise that we will both eat our weight in juicy watermelon come summer time.
Besides, I'll be as big as one by then :)
Loving you already, fried chicken baby,
Mama
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
6 Weeks, 6 Days
Last night was a new low for me.
You are not willing to be out-done are you, my love?
No matter that you are Baby Number Five, I had forgotten that each of you needs to make your own way, to prove your own...own-ness.
Let me explain:
I had a wickedly wretched afternoon yesterday.
My nap, which is absolutely PRIMAL to my having a good day, ended up getting completely trampled upon.
And I'd spent the whole day nauseous.
Actually, let me back up.
I started the morning off fine but walked into Chas' room to discover that Enzo had used the floor as a potty. One look at that mess sent me racing for my bathroom so that I could...violently place my breakfast into the toilet.
Let me back up just a bit more.
Sorry, you've got me all flustered in my tattling on you.
I woke up that morning, said hello to everyone, make a few breakfasts, and grabbed my cleaning supplies.
I marched into my bathroom and scrubbed it down from top to bottom.
You had big plans for me, I could feel it.
I paid special attention to my potty.
It sparkled, I must say.
(Temporarily, that is.)
So then came the issue with the doggie doodie and boy did that just set that day on the path of twisted yuck.
Nothing seemed to go right all afternoon long.
But then we approached the dinner hour, Daddy came home (relief) and later, while I was reading to Greer in bed, I was consumed with the strangest craving.
Spying Daddy walking past the doorway in his comfy pj's, I called him in and said, very, very sorrowfully...
"Will you please go to the store and buy some creamy italian dressing? I want a salad with creamy italian dressing. I'm. So. Sorry."
Why that is strange is because I DON'T EAT creamy italian dressing.
Ever.
As in, not EVER.
We don't have bottled dressing of any kind, we MAKE our own!
But I had to have it.
Er, well, YOU had to have it.
(I totally blamed you.)
So he went.
And he lovingly made me a HUGE bowl of mixed greens with that stupid creamy italian dressing.
Do you know what happened then, my darling little grower?
Surely you must.
You were THERE, after all.
I ended up throwing up the ENTIRE thing into my still-clean potty!
I was NOT happy.
It was the very worst puking session in the history of morning sickness (though the time I threw up a grilled cheese into the bathroom sink would also rank very, very high--that was Creux's doing).
I apologize for the nasty nature of this post (and there will be more to follow) but I'm really trying to give an accurate portrayal of this pregnancy for you, these early, early days of yours, and unfortunately, this is what it is, baby!
Notice though that the paranoia talk is diminishing.
It's rather neat for me to see this.
Already reading back, my apprehension is so tangible--my fear that you will leave unexpectedly.
But now, I am growing very, very confident.
You are right on schedule (morning sickness generally rears its ugly head between weeks 6 and 7 for me) and I know that the sickness is here to stay at this point.
And it's okay.
I am preparing for the worst.
(But dinner? Throwing up DINNER? That IS the worst!)
I'm honestly struggling right now, despite my light tone in this posting.
I had forgotten how being nauseated all day really affects one's quality of life.
I don't feel like doing ANYTHING.
I don't feel like sleeping.
All the foods I used to love so much taste weird to me.
(The salad dressing we normally make is far too tart at this point and that is just sad, sad, sad to me. I miss it.)
I'm basically caffeine-free these days and it's not because I necessarily want to be. You don't want it. None of you growing babies ever has and soon I fear I won't be able to be in the house while it is made. The smell...oh, the smell...
But coffee is my one true love.
It jump-started my mornings.
It was the highlight of my afternoons--a quiet re-charge before facing your slew of siblings for the rest of the day.
It's a painful parting, I'm not going to lie.
It smarts something awful.
And I'm just feeling so BLAH.
I miss my energy, I miss my old blog (haven't been writing so much there either, too blah-ish), I just miss...the way things were.
This is not to say that I regret you at all.
I knew what I was getting into and I happily, very, very happily, forged ahead.
But these days are hard and they really take a toll on my spirit.
My body is handling you with ease but my spirit is a bit battered and bruised.
Soon enough, the fog will lift.
And when it does, I will work like a crazy woman to prepare this house and family for your arrival.
I know this is temporary but I feel very alone in my journey.
Loving you already,
Mama
You are not willing to be out-done are you, my love?
No matter that you are Baby Number Five, I had forgotten that each of you needs to make your own way, to prove your own...own-ness.
Let me explain:
I had a wickedly wretched afternoon yesterday.
My nap, which is absolutely PRIMAL to my having a good day, ended up getting completely trampled upon.
And I'd spent the whole day nauseous.
Actually, let me back up.
I started the morning off fine but walked into Chas' room to discover that Enzo had used the floor as a potty. One look at that mess sent me racing for my bathroom so that I could...violently place my breakfast into the toilet.
Let me back up just a bit more.
Sorry, you've got me all flustered in my tattling on you.
I woke up that morning, said hello to everyone, make a few breakfasts, and grabbed my cleaning supplies.
I marched into my bathroom and scrubbed it down from top to bottom.
You had big plans for me, I could feel it.
I paid special attention to my potty.
It sparkled, I must say.
(Temporarily, that is.)
So then came the issue with the doggie doodie and boy did that just set that day on the path of twisted yuck.
Nothing seemed to go right all afternoon long.
But then we approached the dinner hour, Daddy came home (relief) and later, while I was reading to Greer in bed, I was consumed with the strangest craving.
Spying Daddy walking past the doorway in his comfy pj's, I called him in and said, very, very sorrowfully...
"Will you please go to the store and buy some creamy italian dressing? I want a salad with creamy italian dressing. I'm. So. Sorry."
Why that is strange is because I DON'T EAT creamy italian dressing.
Ever.
As in, not EVER.
We don't have bottled dressing of any kind, we MAKE our own!
But I had to have it.
Er, well, YOU had to have it.
(I totally blamed you.)
So he went.
And he lovingly made me a HUGE bowl of mixed greens with that stupid creamy italian dressing.
Do you know what happened then, my darling little grower?
Surely you must.
You were THERE, after all.
I ended up throwing up the ENTIRE thing into my still-clean potty!
I was NOT happy.
It was the very worst puking session in the history of morning sickness (though the time I threw up a grilled cheese into the bathroom sink would also rank very, very high--that was Creux's doing).
I apologize for the nasty nature of this post (and there will be more to follow) but I'm really trying to give an accurate portrayal of this pregnancy for you, these early, early days of yours, and unfortunately, this is what it is, baby!
Notice though that the paranoia talk is diminishing.
It's rather neat for me to see this.
Already reading back, my apprehension is so tangible--my fear that you will leave unexpectedly.
But now, I am growing very, very confident.
You are right on schedule (morning sickness generally rears its ugly head between weeks 6 and 7 for me) and I know that the sickness is here to stay at this point.
And it's okay.
I am preparing for the worst.
(But dinner? Throwing up DINNER? That IS the worst!)
I'm honestly struggling right now, despite my light tone in this posting.
I had forgotten how being nauseated all day really affects one's quality of life.
I don't feel like doing ANYTHING.
I don't feel like sleeping.
All the foods I used to love so much taste weird to me.
(The salad dressing we normally make is far too tart at this point and that is just sad, sad, sad to me. I miss it.)
I'm basically caffeine-free these days and it's not because I necessarily want to be. You don't want it. None of you growing babies ever has and soon I fear I won't be able to be in the house while it is made. The smell...oh, the smell...
But coffee is my one true love.
It jump-started my mornings.
It was the highlight of my afternoons--a quiet re-charge before facing your slew of siblings for the rest of the day.
It's a painful parting, I'm not going to lie.
It smarts something awful.
And I'm just feeling so BLAH.
I miss my energy, I miss my old blog (haven't been writing so much there either, too blah-ish), I just miss...the way things were.
This is not to say that I regret you at all.
I knew what I was getting into and I happily, very, very happily, forged ahead.
But these days are hard and they really take a toll on my spirit.
My body is handling you with ease but my spirit is a bit battered and bruised.
Soon enough, the fog will lift.
And when it does, I will work like a crazy woman to prepare this house and family for your arrival.
I know this is temporary but I feel very alone in my journey.
Loving you already,
Mama
Sunday, November 15, 2009
6 Weeks, 3 Days
I haven't written because I've been sleeping.
Non-stop.
Are there two of you in there????
I'm only joking, I'm quite certain it's just you.
If you had a sibling growing away beside you, I'd have lost 25 pounds from vomiting already.
Which, by the way, I am doing a fine job of staving off.
My gag reflex is super sensitive right now but I'm able to mind-over-matter the situation still.
I feel sick many times a day but I take deep breathes and focus on relaxing.
As I'm approaching week 7, my days of that are numbered.
Historically speaking, I should be hugging the potty daily, well, any day now.
I can't complain though because it means that our bodies are making your placenta which will take over the care of you and will literally, knit you to me.
It's a huge step in the right direction of The Making Of You.
We still haven't told you siblings yet but it'll be this week and I know they'll all be terrifically excited!
Knowing that you were "in the cards" a few months back, I poked around a bit with sibling questions.
"How do you guys feel about another baby?" I asked them.
Chas loves babies and said so.
Rhyse wants 16 more.
Greer is requesting that you pop out as a Princessy playmate.
Creux continued to eat his cereal.
You're going to want to watch out for that one.
So I know they'll welcome the news with open arms and then you will officially be REAL in this household.
Though I do enjoy having you as a secret, at the same time, the open knowledge of you somehow makes things more official.
Plus, I'm really struggling with hiding you so the sooner, the better.
The good news about that is that while you made your presence known to my body immediately, you will change little in the appearance of me at least for a short while.
I can't easily hide my rounded tummy but I'm assuming that anyone who notices will wonder but think maybe I had too many Mommy Crack drinks over the past month or so since I have made no formal announcement yet.
(Those are hideously good iced coffee thingys from Panera which are now, HAPPILY banned from my diet. You will request a good 35-40 pounds from me and darn it, I will provide, but NOT in the form of whipped cream and caffeine!)
In other news:
You make me grouchy right now, I'm sorry to say.
I feel like I'm on a hormonal acid trip and if I'm not sleeping, I'm snapping.
My temper is short-fused...why is that? An additional wallop of testosterone?
I've told off three people in the last two weeks and not that it wasn't warranted (really, it was) but WOW, you make this Mama feisty!
Currently, I suspect that you are a girl.
This hunch will change 175 times between now and your birthday.
But right now, when I think of you, I think in terms of "she."
I called you "she" when talking to your Daddy the other day and he immediately pointed it out to me.
I hadn't even noticed.
As far as your gender goes, I want you to know this:
I. Don't. Care.
I would love for you to be a girl because Greer would love a sister and because this house is over-run with little men.
I would love for you to be a boy because it would make my heart sing for Creux to have in you what Rhyse has in Chas. We are a good family for another little boy.
I do sit and wonder though...because you are already you and even I don't know who YOU are yet...girl? Boy?
As I said before, even though I wonder about you, I have no desire to find out before your birthday.
Knowing won't change anything for me; I don't need that information to plan (you need me and a few onesies and diapers) or to connect (I would slay dragons for you at this current moment, would risk my very life for whatever it is that you need).
My curiosity is just that: curiosity.
I bought a new week-by-week baby book because the edition I have is from 13 years ago when I was pregnant with Chas! I'm figuring that some but not all information has changed so I wanted to update my own copy. I remember POURING over that thing when Chas was growing because I so desperately needed to know what was happening every minute. With you, as with most of your siblings, I check in with that book every so often, get acquainted with what you're doing in there.
This indicates no less excitement in pregnancies, only a primal trust in the dance between Mother and Baby that I lacked before.
You're doing your part without knowing the requirements as I am doing mine.
We are both under terrific stress currently as this is your most critical period as, for now, you literally ARE stitching yourself together.
Later you will grow and fine tune.
But now, you can not miss a step, not a single, solitary step.
I have faith in us.
Loving you already,
Mama
Non-stop.
Are there two of you in there????
I'm only joking, I'm quite certain it's just you.
If you had a sibling growing away beside you, I'd have lost 25 pounds from vomiting already.
Which, by the way, I am doing a fine job of staving off.
My gag reflex is super sensitive right now but I'm able to mind-over-matter the situation still.
I feel sick many times a day but I take deep breathes and focus on relaxing.
As I'm approaching week 7, my days of that are numbered.
Historically speaking, I should be hugging the potty daily, well, any day now.
I can't complain though because it means that our bodies are making your placenta which will take over the care of you and will literally, knit you to me.
It's a huge step in the right direction of The Making Of You.
We still haven't told you siblings yet but it'll be this week and I know they'll all be terrifically excited!
Knowing that you were "in the cards" a few months back, I poked around a bit with sibling questions.
"How do you guys feel about another baby?" I asked them.
Chas loves babies and said so.
Rhyse wants 16 more.
Greer is requesting that you pop out as a Princessy playmate.
Creux continued to eat his cereal.
You're going to want to watch out for that one.
So I know they'll welcome the news with open arms and then you will officially be REAL in this household.
Though I do enjoy having you as a secret, at the same time, the open knowledge of you somehow makes things more official.
Plus, I'm really struggling with hiding you so the sooner, the better.
The good news about that is that while you made your presence known to my body immediately, you will change little in the appearance of me at least for a short while.
I can't easily hide my rounded tummy but I'm assuming that anyone who notices will wonder but think maybe I had too many Mommy Crack drinks over the past month or so since I have made no formal announcement yet.
(Those are hideously good iced coffee thingys from Panera which are now, HAPPILY banned from my diet. You will request a good 35-40 pounds from me and darn it, I will provide, but NOT in the form of whipped cream and caffeine!)
In other news:
You make me grouchy right now, I'm sorry to say.
I feel like I'm on a hormonal acid trip and if I'm not sleeping, I'm snapping.
My temper is short-fused...why is that? An additional wallop of testosterone?
I've told off three people in the last two weeks and not that it wasn't warranted (really, it was) but WOW, you make this Mama feisty!
Currently, I suspect that you are a girl.
This hunch will change 175 times between now and your birthday.
But right now, when I think of you, I think in terms of "she."
I called you "she" when talking to your Daddy the other day and he immediately pointed it out to me.
I hadn't even noticed.
As far as your gender goes, I want you to know this:
I. Don't. Care.
I would love for you to be a girl because Greer would love a sister and because this house is over-run with little men.
I would love for you to be a boy because it would make my heart sing for Creux to have in you what Rhyse has in Chas. We are a good family for another little boy.
I do sit and wonder though...because you are already you and even I don't know who YOU are yet...girl? Boy?
As I said before, even though I wonder about you, I have no desire to find out before your birthday.
Knowing won't change anything for me; I don't need that information to plan (you need me and a few onesies and diapers) or to connect (I would slay dragons for you at this current moment, would risk my very life for whatever it is that you need).
My curiosity is just that: curiosity.
I bought a new week-by-week baby book because the edition I have is from 13 years ago when I was pregnant with Chas! I'm figuring that some but not all information has changed so I wanted to update my own copy. I remember POURING over that thing when Chas was growing because I so desperately needed to know what was happening every minute. With you, as with most of your siblings, I check in with that book every so often, get acquainted with what you're doing in there.
This indicates no less excitement in pregnancies, only a primal trust in the dance between Mother and Baby that I lacked before.
You're doing your part without knowing the requirements as I am doing mine.
We are both under terrific stress currently as this is your most critical period as, for now, you literally ARE stitching yourself together.
Later you will grow and fine tune.
But now, you can not miss a step, not a single, solitary step.
I have faith in us.
Loving you already,
Mama
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
5 Weeks, 5 Days
Well, I would have written sooner but between you sucking the life right out of me and your older brother's birthday bash, I've had a hard time of it.
The fact that you can flatten me so terrifically really strikes home how hard my body is working for us. I can go about my days relatively normally until I just can't anymore. My eyes start closing without permission or apology. I have taken to napping nearly every day as it's necessary for me at this point in time. I rather like it and am at a point where I can afford the luxury of spoiling myself. Creux is a great napper, down for three hour stretches, and I've even been able to convince Greer to join me most days. The boys are far enough ahead in their schoolwork that I can take the afternoons off so long as I crack the whip when I wake.
And I do :)
What's new with us?
Well, my body is shot and how I will hide this pregnancy another week is beyond my comprehension. I went shopping with your Daddy on Thursday and bought some hip maternity jeans over at Gap. If there IS such a thing as hip maternity jeans, I mean. But let me tell you, I also picked up some clearanced spring/summer things and we are going to be ADORABLE come April! I will be big and round, cutely so, not totally waddling yet, and definitely not wailing about my condition. That all comes in June. By the first week of July, I will be in tatters, emotionally and physically. So, grow fast, my love. Any day sooner than the 9th will endear you to me forever and anything past...well, let's just say you don't want to be "The One" who does that to me. I will remind you until I lay upon my death bed, how you took your sweet, sweet time arriving, forcing me to drive everyone around me crazy. Me, I went crazy long ago.
I started slipping into that paranoia thing again on Sunday night.
Were my boobs still sore? More or less than the day before? Was the soreness diminishing?
Why was I still awake at 1:00am? Shouldn't I be so tired I feel drugged? What if something is going wrong?
I awoke on Monday and immediately began following Daddy around the house, lamenting over this non-knowledge of mine.
I listened as he reassured me that everything was fine.
But I also listened to myself.
Do you know what I say when something is very, very wrong with one of my children?
The words that come to me are these: "Something's not right."
I said that when I lost my baby-before-Greer, and I said those exact words when your sister became extremely sick last winter.
I was dead-on right both times.
I wasn't saying those words, what I was saying were just...worries.
There wasn't any certainty in my statements--my gut says you're fine, you're growing strong, but my mind wants confirmation.
(So much so that I've decided to call the midwife tomorrow and find out if I will be hearing a heartbeat on my first appointment. You can bet your tiny little tail that I will be requesting one--and my first ultrasound, too. The ultasound will probably have to be scheduled but the heartbeat should be no problem. I need to hear you.)
Anyway, I went through this whole big waa-waa, "what-if" thing...and then I promptly vomited into the toilet.
My triggers are sink food (the yuck you dump down the drain) and ESPECIALLY a dirty dishwasher. When it's partially filled with dishes but is just waiting for a few more for a full run and I yank open the door...the smell turns my stomach inside out.
I knew I was going to vomit so, after spitting in the toilet three times, I decided to clean it with the brush really quickly before leaning back over and emptying the contents of my tummy.
I am COMPLETELY weird about sticking my darling face into the nasty, recently-used, potty for morning sickness purposes.
Your father has been put on notice that the downstairs bathroom must be PRISTINE at all times because gross toilet stuff makes me wretch harder in there.
Today I debated the merit of puking outside instead.
Might it be better than the toilet?
I think I'd like it more--the fresh air, the lack of urine smell.
But then I wonder what the neighbors might think if they catch me in the corner of my backyard, heaving my breakfast into the grass.
It's something worth considering.
Throwing up is a wicked part of pregnancy and is something that I will have to deal with for a good month and a half.
Every. Single. Day.
So maybe I should heave where I want to heave, right?
If I try it, I'll let you know.
Speaking of that, I almost gave us away at dinner tonight.
Imagine my sensitive-tummy horror when Daddy places on the dinner table...chicken legs.
We do not eat chicken legs and wings, we are a breast-only family.
We are chicken snobs, not scavengers for crying out loud!
But he'd picked up a rotisserie chicken and tossed most of it into a salad but the boys just tore into those legs and....wow.
I didn't think I was going to make it.
Watching them pull slimy bits out of their shiny-with-grease mouths started me gagging right there and then.
Shortly after, I bit into a really flavorful piece of spinach and ended up bent over with a napkin covering my face. I was gagging AGAIN!
Eating will become harder for me as this sickness progresses.
I'm not entirely upset about that because I am currently consuming everything that isn't nailed down.
What do you DO with all of that food, anyway? You're like the size of a dot!
We're almost six weeks!
Your heart should be beating by now and I wonder...what was I doing then, at the moment that it first pulsed? When you snapped that last little piece in place and got it up and running. Was I sleeping? Sitting at co-op, laughing with my friends? Driving one of the many carpools?
All of these things, so ordinary, and I'll never know at what moment your heart began beating but whatever I was doing, I was oblivious to the most amazing of things.
You are a miracle.
It's true.
Loving you already,
Mama
The fact that you can flatten me so terrifically really strikes home how hard my body is working for us. I can go about my days relatively normally until I just can't anymore. My eyes start closing without permission or apology. I have taken to napping nearly every day as it's necessary for me at this point in time. I rather like it and am at a point where I can afford the luxury of spoiling myself. Creux is a great napper, down for three hour stretches, and I've even been able to convince Greer to join me most days. The boys are far enough ahead in their schoolwork that I can take the afternoons off so long as I crack the whip when I wake.
And I do :)
What's new with us?
Well, my body is shot and how I will hide this pregnancy another week is beyond my comprehension. I went shopping with your Daddy on Thursday and bought some hip maternity jeans over at Gap. If there IS such a thing as hip maternity jeans, I mean. But let me tell you, I also picked up some clearanced spring/summer things and we are going to be ADORABLE come April! I will be big and round, cutely so, not totally waddling yet, and definitely not wailing about my condition. That all comes in June. By the first week of July, I will be in tatters, emotionally and physically. So, grow fast, my love. Any day sooner than the 9th will endear you to me forever and anything past...well, let's just say you don't want to be "The One" who does that to me. I will remind you until I lay upon my death bed, how you took your sweet, sweet time arriving, forcing me to drive everyone around me crazy. Me, I went crazy long ago.
I started slipping into that paranoia thing again on Sunday night.
Were my boobs still sore? More or less than the day before? Was the soreness diminishing?
Why was I still awake at 1:00am? Shouldn't I be so tired I feel drugged? What if something is going wrong?
I awoke on Monday and immediately began following Daddy around the house, lamenting over this non-knowledge of mine.
I listened as he reassured me that everything was fine.
But I also listened to myself.
Do you know what I say when something is very, very wrong with one of my children?
The words that come to me are these: "Something's not right."
I said that when I lost my baby-before-Greer, and I said those exact words when your sister became extremely sick last winter.
I was dead-on right both times.
I wasn't saying those words, what I was saying were just...worries.
There wasn't any certainty in my statements--my gut says you're fine, you're growing strong, but my mind wants confirmation.
(So much so that I've decided to call the midwife tomorrow and find out if I will be hearing a heartbeat on my first appointment. You can bet your tiny little tail that I will be requesting one--and my first ultrasound, too. The ultasound will probably have to be scheduled but the heartbeat should be no problem. I need to hear you.)
Anyway, I went through this whole big waa-waa, "what-if" thing...and then I promptly vomited into the toilet.
My triggers are sink food (the yuck you dump down the drain) and ESPECIALLY a dirty dishwasher. When it's partially filled with dishes but is just waiting for a few more for a full run and I yank open the door...the smell turns my stomach inside out.
I knew I was going to vomit so, after spitting in the toilet three times, I decided to clean it with the brush really quickly before leaning back over and emptying the contents of my tummy.
I am COMPLETELY weird about sticking my darling face into the nasty, recently-used, potty for morning sickness purposes.
Your father has been put on notice that the downstairs bathroom must be PRISTINE at all times because gross toilet stuff makes me wretch harder in there.
Today I debated the merit of puking outside instead.
Might it be better than the toilet?
I think I'd like it more--the fresh air, the lack of urine smell.
But then I wonder what the neighbors might think if they catch me in the corner of my backyard, heaving my breakfast into the grass.
It's something worth considering.
Throwing up is a wicked part of pregnancy and is something that I will have to deal with for a good month and a half.
Every. Single. Day.
So maybe I should heave where I want to heave, right?
If I try it, I'll let you know.
Speaking of that, I almost gave us away at dinner tonight.
Imagine my sensitive-tummy horror when Daddy places on the dinner table...chicken legs.
We do not eat chicken legs and wings, we are a breast-only family.
We are chicken snobs, not scavengers for crying out loud!
But he'd picked up a rotisserie chicken and tossed most of it into a salad but the boys just tore into those legs and....wow.
I didn't think I was going to make it.
Watching them pull slimy bits out of their shiny-with-grease mouths started me gagging right there and then.
Shortly after, I bit into a really flavorful piece of spinach and ended up bent over with a napkin covering my face. I was gagging AGAIN!
Eating will become harder for me as this sickness progresses.
I'm not entirely upset about that because I am currently consuming everything that isn't nailed down.
What do you DO with all of that food, anyway? You're like the size of a dot!
We're almost six weeks!
Your heart should be beating by now and I wonder...what was I doing then, at the moment that it first pulsed? When you snapped that last little piece in place and got it up and running. Was I sleeping? Sitting at co-op, laughing with my friends? Driving one of the many carpools?
All of these things, so ordinary, and I'll never know at what moment your heart began beating but whatever I was doing, I was oblivious to the most amazing of things.
You are a miracle.
It's true.
Loving you already,
Mama
Thursday, November 5, 2009
5 Weeks
Five weeks!
Yay to us, little one!
I've known of you for exactly one week.
I found out last Thursday, the 29th, right before we headed out for trick-or-treating with your siblings.
I must tell you that I took the test on a whim, so grouchy was I, knowing I wasn't pregnant and wanting to get the bad news over with.
I'd been PMSing for days and had taken that early (and negative) pregnancy test the Sunday before.
I grabbed the box of tests on my way upstairs to get ready for the evening.
I thought I'd put myself out of my misery--at that point, one day early, you would definitely have been detectable if you existed.
I'd been in a snit all afternoon, thinking I was hormonally wacked due to my anticipated period which I expected the very next day.
My bubble had burst on Sunday when I tested for you and didn't get the response that I wanted.
Though, in honesty, I jumped the gun a bit.
It was Sunday, a relaxing day at home, and I wanted to learn of you when IT WASN'T CRAZY.
When I could carve out five minutes alone in the bathroom for myself.
The problem with Sunday, which I knew going in, was that it was ONE day too early from when the box told me I might be able to see you there.
But what's a day, really?
I just (wrongly) assumed that I'd see a really faint, faint line instead of the bold statements your siblings have always made on those sticks.
You are the first that I've tested with those "way early" tests.
I don't know that they were around five years ago with Greer (she's four but I'm counting the year of pregnancy) and Creux wasn't expected so I'd WAY passed the point of early learning by the time I realized he was on his way.
So...those early tests mean business.
When they say accurate from "four days from your expected period", they do not mean "but go ahead and try five."
The fact that I did not test again until four days later should tell you how disappointed I was and how I'd really given up hope on the matter. I just let it be, figuring that I'd have seen SOMETHING there if you existed so there was no point in trying again the next day or the day after.
But I was just so grouchy on Thursday and I didn't want to spend all day Friday waiting and waiting and waiting for the final verdict. I wanted to test, see the negative, and be able to move on.
I took it into the bathroom with me and peed on the stick, just like I was supposed to.
I sat there for a few minutes, fumbled with the directions, watched nothing happen on the test.
I'd picked up a generic, lazy, no-frills test.
It took ages for the test line to pop up and immediately I saw a single dash in "my" window.
One dash means "no baby" but another dash mark, forming a plus sign means "CONGRATULATIONS!"
As I watched, I could very, very faintly see where the plus dash would go if only it were directed by the correct hormone to make an appearance.
It was a shadowly line, sort of glistening--not blue like the other lines but almost an invisible, wisp of a line.
I could see it better if I held the stick at an angle to catch different light but when I laid it flat I saw nothing.
I was not surprised and yet I was.
Why was this not working for us?
We've been spoiled in recent years, able to get pregnant when we don't even really mean to :)
After a bout of secondary infertility with Rhyse where we tried (in vain) for two years, we haven't had to try hardly AT ALL, so I was just sort of confused and frustrated and a little bit worried.
What if I struggled to get pregnant again?
I was just...bummed.
I sat there, my head hanging down, sighed deeply, sat up.
Looked at the stick again.
Blinked.
Looked harder.
That near-invisible wisp of a line grew colored right before my very eyes.
I watched the plus sign form and clapped my hand over my mouth in surprise and complete joy.
I think I might've done the Happy Dance while still on the potty.
(Though it was really more of a jiggle.)
I stared and stared and stared and then started laughing.
I just couldn't believe my eyes.
You were there.
And you'd been there!
You were there at the pumpkin patch, that wonderful day we spent together as a family.
And you were there all those days afterward--I've gone back through the photos to see exactly what you tagged along on.
You were there for Greer's Halloween costume parade at preschool.
You were there for Creux's belated birthday gathering with our family.
You were there when we stuck up window decals and strung our new banner and when Greer and I colored our pumpkin graph for the schooling room.
You were there when the test told me that you weren't.
You've just been tagging along this whole time, a secret little member of the family, one who next year will greet these occasions from the Baby Bjorn, snug against Mommy or Daddy's chest, cooing and smiling at your round of many siblings.
In one year, on the night that I first learned of you, I will dress you in your own little Halloween costume, which is exactly what your siblings were doing while I watched your existance come to light, and I will whisper to you....
"I am so grateful."
And I will be.
I will always remember the new significance of that night.
One more sweet little goblin for me.
Loving you already,
Mama
Yay to us, little one!
I've known of you for exactly one week.
I found out last Thursday, the 29th, right before we headed out for trick-or-treating with your siblings.
I must tell you that I took the test on a whim, so grouchy was I, knowing I wasn't pregnant and wanting to get the bad news over with.
I'd been PMSing for days and had taken that early (and negative) pregnancy test the Sunday before.
I grabbed the box of tests on my way upstairs to get ready for the evening.
I thought I'd put myself out of my misery--at that point, one day early, you would definitely have been detectable if you existed.
I'd been in a snit all afternoon, thinking I was hormonally wacked due to my anticipated period which I expected the very next day.
My bubble had burst on Sunday when I tested for you and didn't get the response that I wanted.
Though, in honesty, I jumped the gun a bit.
It was Sunday, a relaxing day at home, and I wanted to learn of you when IT WASN'T CRAZY.
When I could carve out five minutes alone in the bathroom for myself.
The problem with Sunday, which I knew going in, was that it was ONE day too early from when the box told me I might be able to see you there.
But what's a day, really?
I just (wrongly) assumed that I'd see a really faint, faint line instead of the bold statements your siblings have always made on those sticks.
You are the first that I've tested with those "way early" tests.
I don't know that they were around five years ago with Greer (she's four but I'm counting the year of pregnancy) and Creux wasn't expected so I'd WAY passed the point of early learning by the time I realized he was on his way.
So...those early tests mean business.
When they say accurate from "four days from your expected period", they do not mean "but go ahead and try five."
The fact that I did not test again until four days later should tell you how disappointed I was and how I'd really given up hope on the matter. I just let it be, figuring that I'd have seen SOMETHING there if you existed so there was no point in trying again the next day or the day after.
But I was just so grouchy on Thursday and I didn't want to spend all day Friday waiting and waiting and waiting for the final verdict. I wanted to test, see the negative, and be able to move on.
I took it into the bathroom with me and peed on the stick, just like I was supposed to.
I sat there for a few minutes, fumbled with the directions, watched nothing happen on the test.
I'd picked up a generic, lazy, no-frills test.
It took ages for the test line to pop up and immediately I saw a single dash in "my" window.
One dash means "no baby" but another dash mark, forming a plus sign means "CONGRATULATIONS!"
As I watched, I could very, very faintly see where the plus dash would go if only it were directed by the correct hormone to make an appearance.
It was a shadowly line, sort of glistening--not blue like the other lines but almost an invisible, wisp of a line.
I could see it better if I held the stick at an angle to catch different light but when I laid it flat I saw nothing.
I was not surprised and yet I was.
Why was this not working for us?
We've been spoiled in recent years, able to get pregnant when we don't even really mean to :)
After a bout of secondary infertility with Rhyse where we tried (in vain) for two years, we haven't had to try hardly AT ALL, so I was just sort of confused and frustrated and a little bit worried.
What if I struggled to get pregnant again?
I was just...bummed.
I sat there, my head hanging down, sighed deeply, sat up.
Looked at the stick again.
Blinked.
Looked harder.
That near-invisible wisp of a line grew colored right before my very eyes.
I watched the plus sign form and clapped my hand over my mouth in surprise and complete joy.
I think I might've done the Happy Dance while still on the potty.
(Though it was really more of a jiggle.)
I stared and stared and stared and then started laughing.
I just couldn't believe my eyes.
You were there.
And you'd been there!
You were there at the pumpkin patch, that wonderful day we spent together as a family.
And you were there all those days afterward--I've gone back through the photos to see exactly what you tagged along on.
You were there for Greer's Halloween costume parade at preschool.
You were there for Creux's belated birthday gathering with our family.
You were there when we stuck up window decals and strung our new banner and when Greer and I colored our pumpkin graph for the schooling room.
You were there when the test told me that you weren't.
You've just been tagging along this whole time, a secret little member of the family, one who next year will greet these occasions from the Baby Bjorn, snug against Mommy or Daddy's chest, cooing and smiling at your round of many siblings.
In one year, on the night that I first learned of you, I will dress you in your own little Halloween costume, which is exactly what your siblings were doing while I watched your existance come to light, and I will whisper to you....
"I am so grateful."
And I will be.
I will always remember the new significance of that night.
One more sweet little goblin for me.
Loving you already,
Mama
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
4 Weeks, 6 Days
Oh boy, am I in trouble.
Here I am thinking I can keep you a secret for a little while longer but it's going to require a bit of wardrobe trickery.
It's amazing to me how quickly my body has succumbed to accommodate you already.
I mean, you are the size of a DOT.
So why in the world do I look like I'm three months, four months gone?
I was reading a statistic the other day in a baby mag and it said, "Three months is the average time that a woman buys her first pair of pregnancy jeans."
THREE MONTHS???
I'm hoping to hold out for two more weeks so as not to completely wreck my sister's big "live it up" night!
I know going in that I can't compare myself to the average woman during an average pregnancy because WE ARE NOT AVERAGE!
You are my fifth baby and that is not an average number to toss out there.
Everything is happening faster with you.
I'm struggling energy-wise, motivation-wise.
You make me want to sleep all day long.
Or not sleep, but not do anything either.
I've had twinges of the nausea already.
I can feel it coming.
The twinges have been strong enough to remind me of the full feriocity of what morning sickness is all about and I'm still not looking forward to it.
I'd like you to know that with Chas, your oldest brother, I never even WORE maternity clothes.
I'm in stretchy pants almost constantly now.
I can SQUEEZE into my skinny jeans if I must but it ain't comfy.
Boobs are still sore (YAY!), hormonal acne in effect (ENOUGH, I say!), zapped energy and general blahyness cloud my days, so I'm thinking you're a good little blueprint follower.
A few things I wanted to tell you:
I've been thinking back to the "before you" time, when you were in there churning and dividing and deciding to join us, and I mentioned that the paranoia was my first clue to you.
The second was acne.
I NEVER have breakouts unless something is way, way, way wacky with me hormonally. And I did wonder briefly while looking into the mirror and rolling my eyes, "Could this be???"
I think I still was generally hopeful at that point (but a too-early pregnancy test would dash those hopes for the remaining week of pre-knowing).
The third thing was that super sensitive gag reflex that happens with me in early pregnancy. Creux had a diaper so disgusting that I ended up dry heaving into the toilet for three minutes, WISHING that something would come out so I could feel better.
For the record, Creux puts out some MONUMENTALLY horrid diapers but none of them send me wretching over potties.
I should have known, really.
My biggest tip-off was a simple sneeze.
Sounds crazy, right?
But when sneezing when pregnant sometimes causes the most wicked of sharp, pulling sensations on what I think are uterine ligaments.
I sneezed and then doubled over, grabbing my groin area, and then sat up and smiled.
I remembered that feeling clearly and absolutely associated it with pregnancy.
So it was a major surprise to me when, less than a week before my expected period, I took an "early" test and learned that there was no you.
Dreams were dashed, hope was given up, I prepared myself for the inevitable, spent the rest of the week grouching about PMSing.
But it wasn't to be.
You were there, just too small to notice.
I called a midwife for us today, by the way.
We're considering a home birth for you.
My due date is somewhere around the 9th or 10th of July, right near Greer's birthday (on the 13th).
This gave me pause, you should know.
We almost skipped trying for you in order to avoid the birthday over-lappage.
You must understand, I grew up an only child for a REALLY long time and am rather...unaccustomed to spotlight sharing.
I didn't want you two to feel birthday jipped.
But in the end, we decided to go for it.
We'll just celebrate your birthdays as we normally would--we'll find what works for us.
I wanted a summer you, May to August, that was my plan.
We missed the May date because we were in D.C with your brothers.
We missed June because we were a day late in trying.
We nailed July.
Nailed it, baby.
So yep, you were highly planned and rather scheduled because I wanted to have a nice, long, carefree newborn period with you.
No school for the kids, no soccer, no running around.
Just staying in and playing, resting, creeking, bike riding.
Me and you and Creux, we'll chill together.
I can't wait.
Back to the home birth thing--it's something that I want to explore.
I despise the hospital setting and have decided that if I hate it that much, then maybe I should change that.
My births are fast and relatively uncomplicated.
I want your siblings to be close-at-hand, though not present for your birth.
I want us all to be together right from the first moments.
I want to sleep in my own bed, eat at my own table, rest on my own couch.
We usually leave the hospital within the first 24 hours anyway so this isn't really that much of a difference.
Except it will be my first fully natural birth and I'm apprehensive about that.
Your mama is a bit of a wimp, I hate to say.
The date of our first midwife appointment is December 8th.
You will be just over two months grown.
Loving you already,
Mama
Here I am thinking I can keep you a secret for a little while longer but it's going to require a bit of wardrobe trickery.
It's amazing to me how quickly my body has succumbed to accommodate you already.
I mean, you are the size of a DOT.
So why in the world do I look like I'm three months, four months gone?
I was reading a statistic the other day in a baby mag and it said, "Three months is the average time that a woman buys her first pair of pregnancy jeans."
THREE MONTHS???
I'm hoping to hold out for two more weeks so as not to completely wreck my sister's big "live it up" night!
I know going in that I can't compare myself to the average woman during an average pregnancy because WE ARE NOT AVERAGE!
You are my fifth baby and that is not an average number to toss out there.
Everything is happening faster with you.
I'm struggling energy-wise, motivation-wise.
You make me want to sleep all day long.
Or not sleep, but not do anything either.
I've had twinges of the nausea already.
I can feel it coming.
The twinges have been strong enough to remind me of the full feriocity of what morning sickness is all about and I'm still not looking forward to it.
I'd like you to know that with Chas, your oldest brother, I never even WORE maternity clothes.
I'm in stretchy pants almost constantly now.
I can SQUEEZE into my skinny jeans if I must but it ain't comfy.
Boobs are still sore (YAY!), hormonal acne in effect (ENOUGH, I say!), zapped energy and general blahyness cloud my days, so I'm thinking you're a good little blueprint follower.
A few things I wanted to tell you:
I've been thinking back to the "before you" time, when you were in there churning and dividing and deciding to join us, and I mentioned that the paranoia was my first clue to you.
The second was acne.
I NEVER have breakouts unless something is way, way, way wacky with me hormonally. And I did wonder briefly while looking into the mirror and rolling my eyes, "Could this be???"
I think I still was generally hopeful at that point (but a too-early pregnancy test would dash those hopes for the remaining week of pre-knowing).
The third thing was that super sensitive gag reflex that happens with me in early pregnancy. Creux had a diaper so disgusting that I ended up dry heaving into the toilet for three minutes, WISHING that something would come out so I could feel better.
For the record, Creux puts out some MONUMENTALLY horrid diapers but none of them send me wretching over potties.
I should have known, really.
My biggest tip-off was a simple sneeze.
Sounds crazy, right?
But when sneezing when pregnant sometimes causes the most wicked of sharp, pulling sensations on what I think are uterine ligaments.
I sneezed and then doubled over, grabbing my groin area, and then sat up and smiled.
I remembered that feeling clearly and absolutely associated it with pregnancy.
So it was a major surprise to me when, less than a week before my expected period, I took an "early" test and learned that there was no you.
Dreams were dashed, hope was given up, I prepared myself for the inevitable, spent the rest of the week grouching about PMSing.
But it wasn't to be.
You were there, just too small to notice.
I called a midwife for us today, by the way.
We're considering a home birth for you.
My due date is somewhere around the 9th or 10th of July, right near Greer's birthday (on the 13th).
This gave me pause, you should know.
We almost skipped trying for you in order to avoid the birthday over-lappage.
You must understand, I grew up an only child for a REALLY long time and am rather...unaccustomed to spotlight sharing.
I didn't want you two to feel birthday jipped.
But in the end, we decided to go for it.
We'll just celebrate your birthdays as we normally would--we'll find what works for us.
I wanted a summer you, May to August, that was my plan.
We missed the May date because we were in D.C with your brothers.
We missed June because we were a day late in trying.
We nailed July.
Nailed it, baby.
So yep, you were highly planned and rather scheduled because I wanted to have a nice, long, carefree newborn period with you.
No school for the kids, no soccer, no running around.
Just staying in and playing, resting, creeking, bike riding.
Me and you and Creux, we'll chill together.
I can't wait.
Back to the home birth thing--it's something that I want to explore.
I despise the hospital setting and have decided that if I hate it that much, then maybe I should change that.
My births are fast and relatively uncomplicated.
I want your siblings to be close-at-hand, though not present for your birth.
I want us all to be together right from the first moments.
I want to sleep in my own bed, eat at my own table, rest on my own couch.
We usually leave the hospital within the first 24 hours anyway so this isn't really that much of a difference.
Except it will be my first fully natural birth and I'm apprehensive about that.
Your mama is a bit of a wimp, I hate to say.
The date of our first midwife appointment is December 8th.
You will be just over two months grown.
Loving you already,
Mama
Sunday, November 1, 2009
4 Weeks, 3 Days
And here's where pregnancy paranoia rears its ugly head.
I wrote all that last night and woke today checking my boobs and FREAKING OUT because I wasn't sure if they were "as sore" as they were yesterday.
I mean, really.
I think I've nipple-checked a million times today, LITERALLY, but it's my true only link to you.
It's the only way I can reassure myself that you're thriving.
And you must thrive, little one.
I suppose my paranoia is heightened because a) unlike a few surprise babies, we are "ready" for you and b) it's happened to me before.
In between Rhyse and Greer, there should have been another baby.
Actually, had things not worked the way they did, someone else would be here instead of Greer.
I found out I was pregnant on your daddy's birthday a few years back and before the week was out, I had lost that baby.
And I knew it was coming.
My pregnancy symptoms faded and my every instinct told me what was to come and I wasn't mistaken.
Lucky for us all, I was swiftly pregnant again just six weeks later (I had to wait a cycle) and now, we have our little Greer.
So I really pay attention to these early signs you leave me, the sore boobs especially, because it's the easiest to check. As long as they make me uncomfortable, I know you're growing just fine.
Once you start making me sick, I will relax a bit more as I'll know that my body and your body are working together to create your placenta which means you are taking up permanent residence within me for awhile.
Or at least, it take us a few steps farther out of the danger zone.
Do you know you're still just a clump of cells?
I think it's amazing that you are just a little mass, really, of nothing right now and my body is already deep into preparations for you.
Enough so that I am feeling a little worse for the wear every day :)
Today you swiped my energy.
I was worthless, could do nothing around the house.
I wanted to but I just couldn't motivate.
Would like to put in a request for you to leave me SOMETHING to work with, please.
I don't need a lot, but I do have an entire household to run, your siblings to school, and my own self to sort of look after.
Speaking of the pregnancy paranoia, this is a classic symptom for me, in more ways than that one (the fear of you leaving me). It was actually the first clue to "you". I went a little haywire shortly after making you and thought to myself, WOW, I am CRAZY hormonal. Might this be...??? I was hopeful but scared of disappointment. We'd tried for you the month before but we were a day too late and I knew it going in. Despite that, I really thought it had worked but it hadn't and I was crushed. So this month, I was a bit more guarded and right before finding out about you, I was downright pessimistic. Pregnancy symptoms often cruelly mimic a wicked case of PMS and I was certain I'd missed you again.
Oh, but I hadn't :)
I need to rest, you need to rest, I'm off to spend the night boob-checking.
Loving you already,
Mama
I wrote all that last night and woke today checking my boobs and FREAKING OUT because I wasn't sure if they were "as sore" as they were yesterday.
I mean, really.
I think I've nipple-checked a million times today, LITERALLY, but it's my true only link to you.
It's the only way I can reassure myself that you're thriving.
And you must thrive, little one.
I suppose my paranoia is heightened because a) unlike a few surprise babies, we are "ready" for you and b) it's happened to me before.
In between Rhyse and Greer, there should have been another baby.
Actually, had things not worked the way they did, someone else would be here instead of Greer.
I found out I was pregnant on your daddy's birthday a few years back and before the week was out, I had lost that baby.
And I knew it was coming.
My pregnancy symptoms faded and my every instinct told me what was to come and I wasn't mistaken.
Lucky for us all, I was swiftly pregnant again just six weeks later (I had to wait a cycle) and now, we have our little Greer.
So I really pay attention to these early signs you leave me, the sore boobs especially, because it's the easiest to check. As long as they make me uncomfortable, I know you're growing just fine.
Once you start making me sick, I will relax a bit more as I'll know that my body and your body are working together to create your placenta which means you are taking up permanent residence within me for awhile.
Or at least, it take us a few steps farther out of the danger zone.
Do you know you're still just a clump of cells?
I think it's amazing that you are just a little mass, really, of nothing right now and my body is already deep into preparations for you.
Enough so that I am feeling a little worse for the wear every day :)
Today you swiped my energy.
I was worthless, could do nothing around the house.
I wanted to but I just couldn't motivate.
Would like to put in a request for you to leave me SOMETHING to work with, please.
I don't need a lot, but I do have an entire household to run, your siblings to school, and my own self to sort of look after.
Speaking of the pregnancy paranoia, this is a classic symptom for me, in more ways than that one (the fear of you leaving me). It was actually the first clue to "you". I went a little haywire shortly after making you and thought to myself, WOW, I am CRAZY hormonal. Might this be...??? I was hopeful but scared of disappointment. We'd tried for you the month before but we were a day too late and I knew it going in. Despite that, I really thought it had worked but it hadn't and I was crushed. So this month, I was a bit more guarded and right before finding out about you, I was downright pessimistic. Pregnancy symptoms often cruelly mimic a wicked case of PMS and I was certain I'd missed you again.
Oh, but I hadn't :)
I need to rest, you need to rest, I'm off to spend the night boob-checking.
Loving you already,
Mama
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