Well...there aren't going to be any nicely lit Christmas tree photos on this blog. Or even a beautifully told story of our holiday recap. What you're going to get is a poop story. Like you've come to expect anything else from this blog. (Yes, I too, remember the days when I didn't constantly talk about the inner-workings of my digestive system. Believe me, I wonder all the time what happened to that girl. She could tie her own shoes and get off the couch in a single try, and had no idea how good her ab strength really was.)
So remember last Christmas Eve, when I unexpectedly got my period at my Aunt's house? Well...this Christmas Eve at the very same house, right around midnight, when Santa was filling the stockings of all the good little children around the world, I was holed up in the bathroom, alternating between violently vomiting and pooping. For three straight hours. I still don't know if it was just a stomach bug, or a touch of food poisoning, or if I ate too much too close to bed. Whatever it was, it was not pretty. When it was finally over and I crawled back into bed next to Bobby, he wearily asked if I was okay.
"I think so," I told him. "I didn't poop out the baby."
So that was my Christmas miracle. My life is so glamorous.
We had to travel home on Christmas Day because Bobby's enslaved by Corporate America and had to work on Friday. I work at a nonprofit, so lieu of things like "Christmas Bonuses" and "401ks" and "Competitive Pay" we just get a ton of extra holidays off work. At 6:00 a.m. on Friday morning, when Bobby was tying his Windsor knot and I was still snug in bed, I have to admit having no retirement plan didn't seem so bad.
I'm also unlocking pregnancy achievements left and right. Here's a list, in no particular order.
1. A stranger asked when I was due. Bold move, but I almost kissed her on the mouth.
2. I peed a little when I sneezed. So it begins.
3. As I was putting lotion on my belly last night, Bobby asked if I could see my feet. I could not.
4. I've grown out of the biggest bra I own (my fat bra, if you will. I keep it around for winter weight gain purposes).
5. Double-digit weight gain. Up ten total pounds at my 24 week appointment.
6. I started eating prunes. The Christmas Eve poop was a RARE occurrence. And pretty much the only pregnancy advice my mom has given me: "Don't let yourself get constipated. Hemorrhoids are a bitch."
Merry Christmas, friends!
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Always Be Prepared
There are a lot of things I should be doing to prepare for this baby. And since I'm no Boy Scout, instead of actually doing something about these things, I'm just not. I was going to write that I'm stressing about them--but I'm not really stressed. I probably should be, and I probably will be eventually, but right now, I'm just procrastinating.
So here are the things I'm doing/not doing/worrying about/complaining about. We're going to do this bulleted-list style, since then I don't have to write paragraphs and topic sentences, and transitions.
Baby Stuff
I was going to make a list of all the things we still need to get for this baby. Instead, I'll make a much shorter list of things we do have:
6 bibs (all say something about "Grandma" - wonder where those came from?)
8 MN Vikings toddler outfits (re-gifted from some of our friends who are Lions' fans)
2 toddler t-shirts (from the tourist-y town my in-laws live in)
3 onesies (seems like enough, right? I hear babies are pretty clean)
3 pairs of socks (basketball, baseball, and soccer patterned - gift from MIL)
4 blankets (1 knit from Grandma Susie, 3 hand-me-downs that belonged to Bobby's brothers. All 3 are going into storage (or garage sale?) because they are about as soft as sandpaper.)
We have basically nothing for an infant to wear, nothing for baby to sleep in, nothing to carry baby around in, nothing to cover babies' butt, and no alternative for feeding baby if breastfeeding doesn't work out. I try to look into what I want, but I get overwhelmed. If someone could just give me their list of baby stuff they have/liked (including specific brands, types, etc.), I'd just go buy all of it. I don't know what kind of car seat I want. I know I need a crib for short moms that I'm not going to have climb inside of to get the baby out--but how do I know what that is? Do we get a bassinet? Or a rock n play? Or just put baby in the crib from day one? Or, as I recently learned I slept in for the first several months of my life, a cardboard box?
About a month ago, Bobby and I got serious and cleaned the junk out of the nursery. And then when we put up our Christmas tree and decorations, we had to rearrange our living room, and the furniture and everyday decor that no longer fit in the living room ended up in the nursery. So once again, it's full. And not in a good way.
Birthing Classes
I've never taken a Community Ed class in my life. The thought of taking a birthing class makes me cringe. Hard. I don't really want to do it. I actually feel really good about my research and knowledge, but...I'm just going to say it...I'm worried about Bobby. He's going to be shocked when I don't have a Hollywood-style water break or one big contraction and an immediate panicked rush to the hospital. He's going to expect maybe 10 minutes of excruciating pushing, and then: baby. His knowledge of labor and birth is based completely on TV and movies. And yes, that freaks me out a little. The only reason I'm even kind of considering taking a class is for him.
I've read the two books my clinic gave me and sticky-noted the chapters I want him to read (probably 10ish total between two books--not exactly an overwhelming amount), but he won't do it. He promises to read the books, but he hasn't. I know that shouldn't worry me as much as it does, but he's had plenty of time. He has several hours a night that we sit and watch TV together--he could easily crank out a couple chapters and be done with it. I love Bobby more than anything and there's truly no one I'd rather have by my side during labor, but I am worried at how unprepared he's going to be. He's such a studier and a planner and an analyzer...as soon as I'm in pain and struggling he's going to lose his shit because he doesn't know what's happening. But if he would just FREAKING READ THE BOOKS, then he would know what to expect, what's normal, and when we need to ask for help.
Labor
I don't have a birth plan. I'm not going to have a birth plan. My "birth plan" is let's get this baby out in one piece. And not have my vagina torn up to my belly button. Seriously though, my plan is to labor as long as possible at home. And then labor as long as possible at the hospital without medication. If interventions are needed, I'll let them intervene. If a C-section is needed, I guess I'm getting cut open. I'd love to be a strong advocate for myself. But I'm not. Need an example? At my first OB appointment with Dr. G., he asked if he could ask me a personal question that would never leave the office (remember, he's a family friend, goes to my church, has known me since I was a teenager). He asked, "Are you in a monogamous relationship with your husband?" I almost laughed, but nodded yes. He's the only man I've been even remotely intimate with. Dr. G continued, "Then can I ask why Dr. V (my GP) has been giving you annual pap smears?" Honestly, I have no idea. I didn't actually know they were supposed to stop doing them annually once you were married. I've been getting an annual pap smear since I was 16, even though I was definitely not having sex at 16. I didn't know I could refuse them. When a doctor tells me to put on the gown and get in the stirrups, I do it. I mean, I didn't go to medical school. Isn't the point of having a doctor so they can tell you what to do? Yeah...I'm not exactly the best advocate. I totally expect my labor to be an absolute disaster.
Caring for a Baby
I'm a little nervous about this. And I think that's good. That means I need to pick up a couple books that actually deal with life post-pregnancy. Like how to soothe a screaming baby. And yeah, everyone keeps telling me, "Oh, just trust your instincts." That is not helpful. Yes, to some extent I will learn about my baby and be able to mother it just right. But right away? I don't trust my instincts. If I were playing volleyball? Absolutely. My instincts are fantastic for knowing if I'm up against a double block or if the setter is cheating up a little. I will trust my instincts all day on the court. Even coaching - knowing when to take a girl off the court to help her clear her head, or leave her on to force her to push through. But a baby? If there's a baby screaming for no apparent reason and I haven't slept in two months, my instincts are going to tell me to shove that baby right back up my hoo-haw and take a nap.
Breastfeeding
Okay, this isn't something I should be doing right now, but it's something I'm thinking about. I fully plan to attempt to breastfeed. I also expect it to not work out so well. I don't know why, maybe just past experience of everything to do with getting pregnant and being pregnant--I mean, what part about this was easy? I really want it to work out--both for the nutrition and bonding. I'm totally prepared to give the kid formula to keep it from starving, and I have no problem doing that. Except I know that I'm going to be mad at myself at least a little bit for failing. AND the idea of pumping, storing, etc...it overwhelms me a little. Sometimes formula just seems easier.
Circumcision
If any of you with boys want to weigh in on this, feel free. Bobby is pretty adamant that we circumcise our boys. He is so it's pretty expected. I honestly don't have strong feelings either way, although I said if he insisted on circumcision, he's going to be on incision-cleaning duty until it heals. I guess I am sort of the opinion that a boy should be the same as his dad. Bobby's going to be the one (hopefully!) to teach him about his junk, so I guess it's makes sense they should look the same.
My Body
My back has returned to feeling like there are kabob skewers stabbing into the spinal fluid between each vertebrae. Sitting hurts. Standing hurts. Lying down hurts. If I ever end up flat on my back, you'll hear a loud round of, "Ouch, ouch, ouch, can't breathe, ouch, ouch, help." The only semi-relief I get is from sitting on an exercise ball or leaning over it. I try to walk and do squats every day, but some days it's just too much and I can't. I know I'm being lazy, but I just can't push myself.
My stomach has lost any ab muscles it once had. It's a struggle to get out of bed. It's a struggle to get off the couch. Rolling over is practically an Olympic event. I don't even want to talk about putting on my shoes. And I'm not even that big yet! I can't even imagine how much worse it's going to get.
The best way I can describe how pregnancy feels, is that it feels like you're really full and need to poop all the time. But you don't. You just continue to feel full. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not hungry very often. I feel like I'm stuffed already. There's no where for food to go! I try to just keep snacking all day because I never really eat meals anymore.
My belly button, which at it's original state is roughly the depth of the Grand Canyon, is now flattening out slightly. I'm not sure it'll ever "pop" because it's so deep, but it's now only the depth of a minor valley. And sometimes I feel shooting pains coming from it. Not sure what that's all about, but they always go away, so I don't worry about it (see, I'm such a good advocate about medical stuff!).
We're taking Christmas card photos tonight and I have a really great pimple on my chin. So there's that.
I think that's everything that I'm stressing/not stressing about right now. But feel free to add to my list if there are things I'm forgetting. Or, you know, give me all your secrets and advice.
So here are the things I'm doing/not doing/worrying about/complaining about. We're going to do this bulleted-list style, since then I don't have to write paragraphs and topic sentences, and transitions.
Baby Stuff
I was going to make a list of all the things we still need to get for this baby. Instead, I'll make a much shorter list of things we do have:
6 bibs (all say something about "Grandma" - wonder where those came from?)
8 MN Vikings toddler outfits (re-gifted from some of our friends who are Lions' fans)
2 toddler t-shirts (from the tourist-y town my in-laws live in)
3 onesies (seems like enough, right? I hear babies are pretty clean)
3 pairs of socks (basketball, baseball, and soccer patterned - gift from MIL)
4 blankets (1 knit from Grandma Susie, 3 hand-me-downs that belonged to Bobby's brothers. All 3 are going into storage (or garage sale?) because they are about as soft as sandpaper.)
We have basically nothing for an infant to wear, nothing for baby to sleep in, nothing to carry baby around in, nothing to cover babies' butt, and no alternative for feeding baby if breastfeeding doesn't work out. I try to look into what I want, but I get overwhelmed. If someone could just give me their list of baby stuff they have/liked (including specific brands, types, etc.), I'd just go buy all of it. I don't know what kind of car seat I want. I know I need a crib for short moms that I'm not going to have climb inside of to get the baby out--but how do I know what that is? Do we get a bassinet? Or a rock n play? Or just put baby in the crib from day one? Or, as I recently learned I slept in for the first several months of my life, a cardboard box?
About a month ago, Bobby and I got serious and cleaned the junk out of the nursery. And then when we put up our Christmas tree and decorations, we had to rearrange our living room, and the furniture and everyday decor that no longer fit in the living room ended up in the nursery. So once again, it's full. And not in a good way.
Birthing Classes
I've never taken a Community Ed class in my life. The thought of taking a birthing class makes me cringe. Hard. I don't really want to do it. I actually feel really good about my research and knowledge, but...I'm just going to say it...I'm worried about Bobby. He's going to be shocked when I don't have a Hollywood-style water break or one big contraction and an immediate panicked rush to the hospital. He's going to expect maybe 10 minutes of excruciating pushing, and then: baby. His knowledge of labor and birth is based completely on TV and movies. And yes, that freaks me out a little. The only reason I'm even kind of considering taking a class is for him.
I've read the two books my clinic gave me and sticky-noted the chapters I want him to read (probably 10ish total between two books--not exactly an overwhelming amount), but he won't do it. He promises to read the books, but he hasn't. I know that shouldn't worry me as much as it does, but he's had plenty of time. He has several hours a night that we sit and watch TV together--he could easily crank out a couple chapters and be done with it. I love Bobby more than anything and there's truly no one I'd rather have by my side during labor, but I am worried at how unprepared he's going to be. He's such a studier and a planner and an analyzer...as soon as I'm in pain and struggling he's going to lose his shit because he doesn't know what's happening. But if he would just FREAKING READ THE BOOKS, then he would know what to expect, what's normal, and when we need to ask for help.
Labor
I don't have a birth plan. I'm not going to have a birth plan. My "birth plan" is let's get this baby out in one piece. And not have my vagina torn up to my belly button. Seriously though, my plan is to labor as long as possible at home. And then labor as long as possible at the hospital without medication. If interventions are needed, I'll let them intervene. If a C-section is needed, I guess I'm getting cut open. I'd love to be a strong advocate for myself. But I'm not. Need an example? At my first OB appointment with Dr. G., he asked if he could ask me a personal question that would never leave the office (remember, he's a family friend, goes to my church, has known me since I was a teenager). He asked, "Are you in a monogamous relationship with your husband?" I almost laughed, but nodded yes. He's the only man I've been even remotely intimate with. Dr. G continued, "Then can I ask why Dr. V (my GP) has been giving you annual pap smears?" Honestly, I have no idea. I didn't actually know they were supposed to stop doing them annually once you were married. I've been getting an annual pap smear since I was 16, even though I was definitely not having sex at 16. I didn't know I could refuse them. When a doctor tells me to put on the gown and get in the stirrups, I do it. I mean, I didn't go to medical school. Isn't the point of having a doctor so they can tell you what to do? Yeah...I'm not exactly the best advocate. I totally expect my labor to be an absolute disaster.
Caring for a Baby
I'm a little nervous about this. And I think that's good. That means I need to pick up a couple books that actually deal with life post-pregnancy. Like how to soothe a screaming baby. And yeah, everyone keeps telling me, "Oh, just trust your instincts." That is not helpful. Yes, to some extent I will learn about my baby and be able to mother it just right. But right away? I don't trust my instincts. If I were playing volleyball? Absolutely. My instincts are fantastic for knowing if I'm up against a double block or if the setter is cheating up a little. I will trust my instincts all day on the court. Even coaching - knowing when to take a girl off the court to help her clear her head, or leave her on to force her to push through. But a baby? If there's a baby screaming for no apparent reason and I haven't slept in two months, my instincts are going to tell me to shove that baby right back up my hoo-haw and take a nap.
Breastfeeding
Okay, this isn't something I should be doing right now, but it's something I'm thinking about. I fully plan to attempt to breastfeed. I also expect it to not work out so well. I don't know why, maybe just past experience of everything to do with getting pregnant and being pregnant--I mean, what part about this was easy? I really want it to work out--both for the nutrition and bonding. I'm totally prepared to give the kid formula to keep it from starving, and I have no problem doing that. Except I know that I'm going to be mad at myself at least a little bit for failing. AND the idea of pumping, storing, etc...it overwhelms me a little. Sometimes formula just seems easier.
Circumcision
If any of you with boys want to weigh in on this, feel free. Bobby is pretty adamant that we circumcise our boys. He is so it's pretty expected. I honestly don't have strong feelings either way, although I said if he insisted on circumcision, he's going to be on incision-cleaning duty until it heals. I guess I am sort of the opinion that a boy should be the same as his dad. Bobby's going to be the one (hopefully!) to teach him about his junk, so I guess it's makes sense they should look the same.
My Body
My back has returned to feeling like there are kabob skewers stabbing into the spinal fluid between each vertebrae. Sitting hurts. Standing hurts. Lying down hurts. If I ever end up flat on my back, you'll hear a loud round of, "Ouch, ouch, ouch, can't breathe, ouch, ouch, help." The only semi-relief I get is from sitting on an exercise ball or leaning over it. I try to walk and do squats every day, but some days it's just too much and I can't. I know I'm being lazy, but I just can't push myself.
My stomach has lost any ab muscles it once had. It's a struggle to get out of bed. It's a struggle to get off the couch. Rolling over is practically an Olympic event. I don't even want to talk about putting on my shoes. And I'm not even that big yet! I can't even imagine how much worse it's going to get.
The best way I can describe how pregnancy feels, is that it feels like you're really full and need to poop all the time. But you don't. You just continue to feel full. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not hungry very often. I feel like I'm stuffed already. There's no where for food to go! I try to just keep snacking all day because I never really eat meals anymore.
My belly button, which at it's original state is roughly the depth of the Grand Canyon, is now flattening out slightly. I'm not sure it'll ever "pop" because it's so deep, but it's now only the depth of a minor valley. And sometimes I feel shooting pains coming from it. Not sure what that's all about, but they always go away, so I don't worry about it (see, I'm such a good advocate about medical stuff!).
We're taking Christmas card photos tonight and I have a really great pimple on my chin. So there's that.
I think that's everything that I'm stressing/not stressing about right now. But feel free to add to my list if there are things I'm forgetting. Or, you know, give me all your secrets and advice.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Paying It Forward
I keep coming back to this blog. I've done a pretty good (good - not great) job of keeping up with reading and commenting on most of your blogs. But I've done a pretty terrible job of writing. I want to write here, I want to document this pregnancy, largely because the adorable pregnancy tracking book that my mother-in-law sent me is completely empty. I haven't written a thing. This blog is the only place where I've kept track of what's going on since the beginning. And even that has been hit or miss.
So I keep coming here, opening a new post and staring at the screen. The only thought I can get typed out is: I should write something. And that's not exactly a captivating opening line. I feel like I should write something because some of you have invested time and interest in my story, and I know I feel disappointed when bloggers I like suddenly disappear. I should write because there are many things happening to my body that I don't understand and things I'm struggling with that I would love advice on, or at least your commiseration. I should write because I'm letting myself get stressed by work and family and holiday obligations and lack of sleep, and when I come to this place and let myself vent and be stressed and not even try to act like I have everything together - I feel better. I need a place where no one knows me so they can't judge me for acting like a crazy person sometimes.
So here I am.
I'm 21 weeks pregnant. We had our anatomy scan last week and were told everything looks good. No details, not much discussion, but at this point I'm taking that as a good thing. We did not find out the gender, but I'm still mostly convinced it's a girl (if it's a boy, please don't tell him that I thought he felt like a girl my whole pregnancy). Since we told the tech we didn't want to know the sex, she let us know when to "look away" while she was scanning that area. We were both like, really? The only reason I know that I'm looking at a hand is because you told me. You really think I can figure out blurry baby genitals? I closed my eyes anyway, but I have no idea if Bobby did. But I trust his ultrasound tech skills even less than mine. If he did figure it out, he's been really good about keeping it quiet.
I've also finally told everyone at work. It was getting necessary because my bump is pretty noticeable now and was getting really hard to hide, even in sweaters and over-sized flannels. I didn't tell everyone that I'm leaving though, as I'm afraid they'll assume I'll check out and not really be helpful my last few months here.
My boss kind of dropped a bomb on me that sealed the deal that I'm leaving though. I was prepared to possibly negotiate down to working 20 hours a week, which is what I was originally hired at (I'm currently at 32). I would see if I could be in the office only two days a week and work from home the rest of the hours. Before I was even able to ask about this, at my last meeting she informed me that after my 12 weeks of maternity leave, they want to make my position 40 hours a week and almost entirely in-office, only a few days per month allowed to work from home. I never wanted to be full-time here, since I wouldn't be able to keep coaching, and I definitely didn't want to increase my hours that much immediately after maternity leave. So...yeah. Decision made.
I also officially told the school where I coach that I'm pregnant. They are willing to hold my fall coaching job until summer, since I said I would like to keep the position. I'll just have to see what my work situation is like and how well we're adjusting to having a baby. It'll be much more difficult--do I bring the baby on the bus to games? What about to tournaments? Who will we find to babysit for full weekend tournaments while Bobby's working? What about the half hour or so between the time I go to practice and Bobby comes home from work? Do I bring the baby to practice until he can pick it up?--there's a lot to consider, but I'll let future Lilee deal with that.
We officially had our first Christmas last weekend at our house with Bobby's dad, stepmom, three brothers, and grandparents. It was a good time and I'm glad we were able to host it. We got some cute stuff for baby, including a really sweet blanket from Grandma Susie. In her last few years, it was hard for her to get around much, but she still wanted to do something worthwhile. So the only thing she really asked for for birthday or Christmas gifts was yarn. She knitted hundreds and hundreds of blankets in her last two years, donating them to military overseas, women's shelters, hospice homes, and NICUs. According to Bobby's stepmom (Grandma Susie's daughter), this gorgeous pink, blue, green, and yellow baby blanket was one of the last ones she made before she died. Of course, she didn't know we were going to get pregnant a few months later, but it was still a really special gift for us.
So, in the same spirit...I want to pay it forward and give back too. I actually meant to do this awhile ago, but then I got nervous about the pregnancy and decided to hold off. And then I forgot.
I have a large stash (originally 50ish?) of Wondfo OPK strips and probably 20ish Wondfo pregnancy tests. I got them on Amazon last summer when I decided to stop being a pussy and pretending like I couldn't figure out how to work them right. I only ended up using them for 2-3 cycles before getting pregnant, so there's still quite a few left. And they expire in April. If all goes well, I'll be delivering a baby in April, not peeing on sticks.
So...who wants them? I know most of you who comment regularly already have babies or are currently pregnant, or are pursuing IVF and not so much in the cycle-charting stage. But I know I have quite a few more readers who don't comment regularly who could maybe use them. So de-lurk yourself and let me know! If there are several people who could use them, I can split them up, or you can have the whole bundle. I'm not sure on exact counts since they are at home and I am not. I can figure it out if there's interest. All I ask in return is that you do something nice for a stranger: shovel their sidewalk, buy a cup of coffee, participate in an Angel Tree or Operation Christmas Child drive, or whatever else you can do!
So I keep coming here, opening a new post and staring at the screen. The only thought I can get typed out is: I should write something. And that's not exactly a captivating opening line. I feel like I should write something because some of you have invested time and interest in my story, and I know I feel disappointed when bloggers I like suddenly disappear. I should write because there are many things happening to my body that I don't understand and things I'm struggling with that I would love advice on, or at least your commiseration. I should write because I'm letting myself get stressed by work and family and holiday obligations and lack of sleep, and when I come to this place and let myself vent and be stressed and not even try to act like I have everything together - I feel better. I need a place where no one knows me so they can't judge me for acting like a crazy person sometimes.
So here I am.
I'm 21 weeks pregnant. We had our anatomy scan last week and were told everything looks good. No details, not much discussion, but at this point I'm taking that as a good thing. We did not find out the gender, but I'm still mostly convinced it's a girl (if it's a boy, please don't tell him that I thought he felt like a girl my whole pregnancy). Since we told the tech we didn't want to know the sex, she let us know when to "look away" while she was scanning that area. We were both like, really? The only reason I know that I'm looking at a hand is because you told me. You really think I can figure out blurry baby genitals? I closed my eyes anyway, but I have no idea if Bobby did. But I trust his ultrasound tech skills even less than mine. If he did figure it out, he's been really good about keeping it quiet.
I've also finally told everyone at work. It was getting necessary because my bump is pretty noticeable now and was getting really hard to hide, even in sweaters and over-sized flannels. I didn't tell everyone that I'm leaving though, as I'm afraid they'll assume I'll check out and not really be helpful my last few months here.
My boss kind of dropped a bomb on me that sealed the deal that I'm leaving though. I was prepared to possibly negotiate down to working 20 hours a week, which is what I was originally hired at (I'm currently at 32). I would see if I could be in the office only two days a week and work from home the rest of the hours. Before I was even able to ask about this, at my last meeting she informed me that after my 12 weeks of maternity leave, they want to make my position 40 hours a week and almost entirely in-office, only a few days per month allowed to work from home. I never wanted to be full-time here, since I wouldn't be able to keep coaching, and I definitely didn't want to increase my hours that much immediately after maternity leave. So...yeah. Decision made.
I also officially told the school where I coach that I'm pregnant. They are willing to hold my fall coaching job until summer, since I said I would like to keep the position. I'll just have to see what my work situation is like and how well we're adjusting to having a baby. It'll be much more difficult--do I bring the baby on the bus to games? What about to tournaments? Who will we find to babysit for full weekend tournaments while Bobby's working? What about the half hour or so between the time I go to practice and Bobby comes home from work? Do I bring the baby to practice until he can pick it up?--there's a lot to consider, but I'll let future Lilee deal with that.
We officially had our first Christmas last weekend at our house with Bobby's dad, stepmom, three brothers, and grandparents. It was a good time and I'm glad we were able to host it. We got some cute stuff for baby, including a really sweet blanket from Grandma Susie. In her last few years, it was hard for her to get around much, but she still wanted to do something worthwhile. So the only thing she really asked for for birthday or Christmas gifts was yarn. She knitted hundreds and hundreds of blankets in her last two years, donating them to military overseas, women's shelters, hospice homes, and NICUs. According to Bobby's stepmom (Grandma Susie's daughter), this gorgeous pink, blue, green, and yellow baby blanket was one of the last ones she made before she died. Of course, she didn't know we were going to get pregnant a few months later, but it was still a really special gift for us.
So, in the same spirit...I want to pay it forward and give back too. I actually meant to do this awhile ago, but then I got nervous about the pregnancy and decided to hold off. And then I forgot.
I have a large stash (originally 50ish?) of Wondfo OPK strips and probably 20ish Wondfo pregnancy tests. I got them on Amazon last summer when I decided to stop being a pussy and pretending like I couldn't figure out how to work them right. I only ended up using them for 2-3 cycles before getting pregnant, so there's still quite a few left. And they expire in April. If all goes well, I'll be delivering a baby in April, not peeing on sticks.
So...who wants them? I know most of you who comment regularly already have babies or are currently pregnant, or are pursuing IVF and not so much in the cycle-charting stage. But I know I have quite a few more readers who don't comment regularly who could maybe use them. So de-lurk yourself and let me know! If there are several people who could use them, I can split them up, or you can have the whole bundle. I'm not sure on exact counts since they are at home and I am not. I can figure it out if there's interest. All I ask in return is that you do something nice for a stranger: shovel their sidewalk, buy a cup of coffee, participate in an Angel Tree or Operation Christmas Child drive, or whatever else you can do!
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Let's Talk About Stretch Marks
I'm currently running a scientific experiment on my husband. He's been a semi-willing participant, complaining louder on some nights more than others. He has a hard time saying no to me these days (he totally let me lie on the couch like a lazy bum while he went grocery shopping on Monday because I was complaining that it was too cold to go outside), mostly because he thinks my "bump" is so darn adorable. I think this is funny because my "bump" is still barely more than a pooch. In fact, since I've only gained about seven pounds, I think I'm right on track for my normal winter weight gain. I've just stopped sucking in my stomach all the time. Either way, I'm totally taking advantage of his vulnerability and using him as a guinea pig in this experiment.
Let's back up. I'm vain enough to admit that I don't really want to get stretch marks. I mean, I think that's pretty normal, right? If I had a preference, it would be to keep my belly looking the way it currently does. But we pretty much always hear pregnancy = stretch marks. EXCEPT for all those advertisers and makers of expensive creams and lotions that promise use of their product = no stretch marks. So, I figured I should get some lotion.
But then I started reading some pregnancy books. Okay...I'll admit, my step mother-in-law gave me three books on pregnancy/babies. My clinic gave me two. I've read a combined total of maybe six chapters between two of them. To be honest, I gave up when they started talking all about rare complications and diseases. Like, am I supposed to actually memorize this stuff? Let's be real, if I get a rare complication or it turns out my baby does have some disease, I will do a ton of research then. I doubt I'll remember a short paragraph about the obscure complication anyway.
Back to the point, both books mentioned stretch marks. And both said that they are almost entirely genetic. There is no cream, lotion, potion, or anything else you can put on the skin itself to prevent stretch marks from happening. Basically, if your mom got stretch marks, you'll get stretch marks. Well. Okay. But what about what all those fancy creams promised!?
AND what about all the real-life stories from my own friends? Of course, they vary. One friend used Lotion A every night before bed and got no stretch marks. Her mom had stretch marks. Another friend used Lotion A five times a day and still got stretch marks. Her mom did not have stretch marks. I mean, what the heck?
Here's the thing. My mom doesn't have stretch marks (that I know of), and as of this moment, neither do I. I bought a cheap cream (some Palmer's Cocoa Butter that's like $4 at Walmart) mostly because my skin was starting to itch and I had to start putting some sort of lotion on it at night before I clawed through my belly button.
But I still wondered, is this doing anything?
I do have some faint white ones on my boobs because in fourth grade I literally went from could get away without wearing a shirt in public to needs something with an underwire pretty much overnight. Yeah. Being nine and having a B cup? Not awesome. I doubled up sports bras for the next three to four years until the boys stopped making fun of me. But the white lines were pretty faint.
I started dating Bobby when he was a freshman in high school. He was pretty average, around 5'6" or 5'7" with a pretty normal build for a guy that height. Since his parents were divorced and his dad lived in very, very northern Minnesota, Bobby would spend the summer at his dad's. So he went away for three months between his freshman and sophomore years and came back over 6' tall. He grew five-six inches in only a few months. As you can imagine, there were some consequences. His skin definitely stretched, resulting in some pretty dark purple stretch marks on his hips, legs, and lower back.
You can probably see where this is going. I convinced him to let me put my lotion on him every night before bed, just to see if it really did anything. It's okay; it's FOR SCIENCE. Now I kinda wish I would have taken before pictures or measurements or something to put on my tri-fold science fair board, but for right now, I'm just going by what I can remember. Since he's starting to hate it more and more, I told him we'll keep doing it until Christmas (about two months total). If they don't look any different by then, I'll quit and decide the only thing the lotion was good for was to keep my skin from itching (which thankfully it has, that alone has made it worth it).
So...what are your thoughts/experience with stretch marks? What did you use to keep them away? Or did you not care? Is it all genetic and this is totally a waste of time? Is it totally unethical to use your husband as part of a scientific experiment?
Let's back up. I'm vain enough to admit that I don't really want to get stretch marks. I mean, I think that's pretty normal, right? If I had a preference, it would be to keep my belly looking the way it currently does. But we pretty much always hear pregnancy = stretch marks. EXCEPT for all those advertisers and makers of expensive creams and lotions that promise use of their product = no stretch marks. So, I figured I should get some lotion.
But then I started reading some pregnancy books. Okay...I'll admit, my step mother-in-law gave me three books on pregnancy/babies. My clinic gave me two. I've read a combined total of maybe six chapters between two of them. To be honest, I gave up when they started talking all about rare complications and diseases. Like, am I supposed to actually memorize this stuff? Let's be real, if I get a rare complication or it turns out my baby does have some disease, I will do a ton of research then. I doubt I'll remember a short paragraph about the obscure complication anyway.
Back to the point, both books mentioned stretch marks. And both said that they are almost entirely genetic. There is no cream, lotion, potion, or anything else you can put on the skin itself to prevent stretch marks from happening. Basically, if your mom got stretch marks, you'll get stretch marks. Well. Okay. But what about what all those fancy creams promised!?
AND what about all the real-life stories from my own friends? Of course, they vary. One friend used Lotion A every night before bed and got no stretch marks. Her mom had stretch marks. Another friend used Lotion A five times a day and still got stretch marks. Her mom did not have stretch marks. I mean, what the heck?
Here's the thing. My mom doesn't have stretch marks (that I know of), and as of this moment, neither do I. I bought a cheap cream (some Palmer's Cocoa Butter that's like $4 at Walmart) mostly because my skin was starting to itch and I had to start putting some sort of lotion on it at night before I clawed through my belly button.
But I still wondered, is this doing anything?
I do have some faint white ones on my boobs because in fourth grade I literally went from could get away without wearing a shirt in public to needs something with an underwire pretty much overnight. Yeah. Being nine and having a B cup? Not awesome. I doubled up sports bras for the next three to four years until the boys stopped making fun of me. But the white lines were pretty faint.
I started dating Bobby when he was a freshman in high school. He was pretty average, around 5'6" or 5'7" with a pretty normal build for a guy that height. Since his parents were divorced and his dad lived in very, very northern Minnesota, Bobby would spend the summer at his dad's. So he went away for three months between his freshman and sophomore years and came back over 6' tall. He grew five-six inches in only a few months. As you can imagine, there were some consequences. His skin definitely stretched, resulting in some pretty dark purple stretch marks on his hips, legs, and lower back.
You can probably see where this is going. I convinced him to let me put my lotion on him every night before bed, just to see if it really did anything. It's okay; it's FOR SCIENCE. Now I kinda wish I would have taken before pictures or measurements or something to put on my tri-fold science fair board, but for right now, I'm just going by what I can remember. Since he's starting to hate it more and more, I told him we'll keep doing it until Christmas (about two months total). If they don't look any different by then, I'll quit and decide the only thing the lotion was good for was to keep my skin from itching (which thankfully it has, that alone has made it worth it).
So...what are your thoughts/experience with stretch marks? What did you use to keep them away? Or did you not care? Is it all genetic and this is totally a waste of time? Is it totally unethical to use your husband as part of a scientific experiment?
Friday, November 14, 2014
An Anniversary
One year ago today I published the first post on this blog. I'd been reading infertility blogs for awhile before that, since we'd been trying for about a year and a half to get pregnant and it was clearly not happening. Most of my friends were getting pregnant. My doctor and my acupuncturist didn't seem to be taking me seriously since I was only 25 years old. Even my husband was convinced it was just a matter of time before it would magically happen. The only real way to describe how I was feeling is alone. I had moments where I literally felt like I was the only person in the world who couldn't get pregnant on command.
So I started with a Google search. It initially led me to BabyCenter and Bump threads that were catty and scary and, to be honest, a little bit crazy. Those were the kind of women that were like me? Those crazy-obsessive, snarky women who had been trying for all of three months for their fifth child and were PANICKING because it wasn't happening? This was the only place I could find support?
Eventually I found someone's blog. And then another and another. And then I noticed that the same people were commenting on each others' blogs. Wait...do they all know each other in real life? I finally put it together that, no, they did not know each other, but they were a community. And they were supportive and nice. And some were really funny. And some were sweet and kind. And they were all so honest and real. And they were infertile. Just like me.
I will never forget that feeling of realizing I'm not alone.
When I started reading infertility blogs, I didn't know very much about infertility. I knew almost nothing about IVF. I had no idea it required monitoring or medication. I mean, they just make a baby in a test tube and then shove it up your vag, right? Sure it was expensive, but it was pretty easy. And it ALWAYS worked - that's why celebrities did it. I had never even heard of IUI. I didn't know much about cycles or follicles or ovulation or cervical mucous. I had no idea that there was so much to being infertile--it was sort of terrifying. And overwhelming. And oh my gosh I think I need to get a PhD in human biology to have any idea what's happening to me right now.
But I didn't need a science degree (thank God, I got a C- in Earth Science in COMMUNITY COLLEGE), I had all of these bloggers that had somehow learned all of this stuff. They understood their bodies inside and out. They understood medications and herbs and supplements and protocols. And they were nice enough to share that information in ways that I could (mostly) understand.
I know that I'm different from a lot of people in this community because I did manage to conceive naturally. But I'm going to make a bold statement here: I don't think I would be pregnant right now without all of you. Obviously, I have no way to back that up. Maybe I would be, but I doubt it.
When I started this blog, my cycles were just beginning to regulate themselves from mostly non-existent after being off birth control over a year (70-100+ days) to 40-50 days. With a change to my diet, more exercise, and adding in some red raspberry leaf tea, they finally settled themselves to 30-35 days.
But it wasn't until I started charting my temperatures (at the suggestion of many of you), that I figured out my ovulation. At first I was terrible at charting. It was all over the place. There were no patterns and none of it looked like the internet charts. But I eventually found my rhythm and actually had a normal looking chart for several months in a row. I could see post-ovulation spikes. I could see my temperature drop right before I got my period. It was amazing. My body was doing the right things--sort of.
And then you obsessive POASers got in my head. With your exact knowledge of ovulation, confirmed by digital smiley faces. I had started thinking about trying OPKs before I started blogging, but I wasn't sure I could do it accurately. I figured it was a waste of money. But I had some Amazon points sitting around, so I ordered a stack of the cheap ones. Because of you ladies and your pee stick worship. And that's how I found out that my ovulation was significantly later than I had previously thought, and my luteal phase was significantly shorter--like defect-level short. And I was totally inaccurately timing sex. Which is sort of an issue when you're counting on timed intercourse to get you pregnant.
So, again at the recommendation of many of you and after some lengthy research (that's right, I'm not even in school and I did scientific research), I started taking Vitex and B6. And after two months, it worked. It moved ovulation up by nearly four days, fixing the luteal phase defect, and making timed intercourse actually effective.
And well...you know the rest of the story.
While this is sort of the tale of "How I Managed to Get My Infertile Self Pregnant," what I really want it to be is a huge Thank You. I started this blog, like many of you, when I was at my lowest point. I was stuck. I had no idea what to do. And I was really, really lonely. And you all were there for me. You supported me, you offered kind words and helpful advice. You answered questions, shared your insecurities, and became my friends. Maybe not "friends" in the traditional sense, but you all genuinely cared about my life and my story, and I care about yours. Reading about your failed cycles and miscarriages and low moments were like a punch to the gut. I would read your blogs at work with the biggest, dumbest smile on my face when you finally got your BFPs. You were strangers, but at the same time you were my friends. We all wanted the same thing. I wanted this so bad for all of you. For all of us.
Many of you that read and comment regularly already have your babies or are currently pregnant. Some of you are still fighting--and I'm still cheering. My story is not one of the most inspiring ones out there (I mean, it's really just the story of a girl who finally learns some science), but I'm just so grateful that you all accepted me. You were the first people who took my struggle and my worries and fears seriously.
On this one year anniversary of this silly little blog, THANK YOU. I know I wouldn't be where I am without all of you.
So I started with a Google search. It initially led me to BabyCenter and Bump threads that were catty and scary and, to be honest, a little bit crazy. Those were the kind of women that were like me? Those crazy-obsessive, snarky women who had been trying for all of three months for their fifth child and were PANICKING because it wasn't happening? This was the only place I could find support?
Eventually I found someone's blog. And then another and another. And then I noticed that the same people were commenting on each others' blogs. Wait...do they all know each other in real life? I finally put it together that, no, they did not know each other, but they were a community. And they were supportive and nice. And some were really funny. And some were sweet and kind. And they were all so honest and real. And they were infertile. Just like me.
I will never forget that feeling of realizing I'm not alone.
When I started reading infertility blogs, I didn't know very much about infertility. I knew almost nothing about IVF. I had no idea it required monitoring or medication. I mean, they just make a baby in a test tube and then shove it up your vag, right? Sure it was expensive, but it was pretty easy. And it ALWAYS worked - that's why celebrities did it. I had never even heard of IUI. I didn't know much about cycles or follicles or ovulation or cervical mucous. I had no idea that there was so much to being infertile--it was sort of terrifying. And overwhelming. And oh my gosh I think I need to get a PhD in human biology to have any idea what's happening to me right now.
But I didn't need a science degree (thank God, I got a C- in Earth Science in COMMUNITY COLLEGE), I had all of these bloggers that had somehow learned all of this stuff. They understood their bodies inside and out. They understood medications and herbs and supplements and protocols. And they were nice enough to share that information in ways that I could (mostly) understand.
I know that I'm different from a lot of people in this community because I did manage to conceive naturally. But I'm going to make a bold statement here: I don't think I would be pregnant right now without all of you. Obviously, I have no way to back that up. Maybe I would be, but I doubt it.
When I started this blog, my cycles were just beginning to regulate themselves from mostly non-existent after being off birth control over a year (70-100+ days) to 40-50 days. With a change to my diet, more exercise, and adding in some red raspberry leaf tea, they finally settled themselves to 30-35 days.
But it wasn't until I started charting my temperatures (at the suggestion of many of you), that I figured out my ovulation. At first I was terrible at charting. It was all over the place. There were no patterns and none of it looked like the internet charts. But I eventually found my rhythm and actually had a normal looking chart for several months in a row. I could see post-ovulation spikes. I could see my temperature drop right before I got my period. It was amazing. My body was doing the right things--sort of.
And then you obsessive POASers got in my head. With your exact knowledge of ovulation, confirmed by digital smiley faces. I had started thinking about trying OPKs before I started blogging, but I wasn't sure I could do it accurately. I figured it was a waste of money. But I had some Amazon points sitting around, so I ordered a stack of the cheap ones. Because of you ladies and your pee stick worship. And that's how I found out that my ovulation was significantly later than I had previously thought, and my luteal phase was significantly shorter--like defect-level short. And I was totally inaccurately timing sex. Which is sort of an issue when you're counting on timed intercourse to get you pregnant.
So, again at the recommendation of many of you and after some lengthy research (that's right, I'm not even in school and I did scientific research), I started taking Vitex and B6. And after two months, it worked. It moved ovulation up by nearly four days, fixing the luteal phase defect, and making timed intercourse actually effective.
And well...you know the rest of the story.
While this is sort of the tale of "How I Managed to Get My Infertile Self Pregnant," what I really want it to be is a huge Thank You. I started this blog, like many of you, when I was at my lowest point. I was stuck. I had no idea what to do. And I was really, really lonely. And you all were there for me. You supported me, you offered kind words and helpful advice. You answered questions, shared your insecurities, and became my friends. Maybe not "friends" in the traditional sense, but you all genuinely cared about my life and my story, and I care about yours. Reading about your failed cycles and miscarriages and low moments were like a punch to the gut. I would read your blogs at work with the biggest, dumbest smile on my face when you finally got your BFPs. You were strangers, but at the same time you were my friends. We all wanted the same thing. I wanted this so bad for all of you. For all of us.
Many of you that read and comment regularly already have your babies or are currently pregnant. Some of you are still fighting--and I'm still cheering. My story is not one of the most inspiring ones out there (I mean, it's really just the story of a girl who finally learns some science), but I'm just so grateful that you all accepted me. You were the first people who took my struggle and my worries and fears seriously.
On this one year anniversary of this silly little blog, THANK YOU. I know I wouldn't be where I am without all of you.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Maternity Clothes Woes
Today I'm wearing a pair of my friend's capris as full-length pants. This is the sort of thing you're able to do when you're only 5-feet tall.
This good friend dropped off two boxes of her maternity clothes at my house yesterday afternoon and I am sooo grateful. I probably could have used a belly band with my regular clothes for another month or so, but the constant adjusting and unrolling was getting a bit annoying.
My friend is probably a size or two smaller than me on the bottom (big butt here, remember), but most of it seems to work fine. I only ended up being able to fit in one pair of her maternity jeans--the others wouldn't go past my volleyball thighs. The dress pants are so comfortable, I'm seriously wondering why all pants don't come with elastic waist bands. Get it together, clothing designers!
A bit unfortunately though, my friend's kids were both due in late summer, meaning she was getting bigger in the spring and summer. She was able to wear her normal clothes in the winter. Much of one of the boxes was filled with tanktops, sundresses, and shorts. I'm entering this week's forecast of 8-12 inches of snow with three pairs of dress pants, one pair of jeans, and a pair of capris that are about 1/4 inch too short (thankfully as long as I pair them with boots it isn't noticeable).
Also a bit unfortunately, other than my direct supervisor, no one at work knows I'm pregnant. So I'm still covering my (barely-there) bump with sweaters, cardigans, and vests. Maternity clothes like to emphasize even the smallest bumps, so I still don't have a lot to wear at work unless I cover it with a sweater...which I guess in 12° weather (yes, that's the forecast for next week---booo), isn't really a problem. I'm not really sure how to tell everyone at work. The obvious answer would be to announce it during staff meeting. We always have a time at the beginning to share personal news, but in no world does that sound like anything I would do. Being the center of attention like that would be unbearable. I've also thought about telling a few people, and since I work with all catty women, just letting it spread on its own. But then I'll be answering individual questions for the next month until everyone has heard. And that sounds pretty awful too. I'm not really friends, or even acquaintances, with anyone at work. There are several days a week I don't actually talk to anyone here. I'm feeling really weird about the whole thing, because I'm not going to be able to hide it much longer.
In other non-clothing crisis news, I got to hear Cannoli's little heartbeat last Friday. Dr. G. said my uterus was measuring perfectly (um...thanks?), and he found the heartbeat instantly. None of the drama of last time, thank God. He also pointed out that all of the "alien noises" I heard on the doppler were the baby moving. He asked me if I had felt any. I said that sometimes I think I do, but I'm not sure if it's really movement or just digesting food. He told me that officially I'm not supposed to feel anything until 19-20 weeks, but many women report movement earlier. Even as he was speaking, there was huge static on the doppler.
"That was a huge kick," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if you feel those if you're laying still."
So I guess I'm going to try to pay attention more and see if I can feel movement.
I'm 17 weeks today and starting to feel like more of a human than in my last post. I even made it most days last week without a nap. I went to the chiropractor on Thursday and he fixed my back. I can walk upright again and actually move without my hips feeling like they're about to jump out their sockets. The nausea seems to be lessening. It's still there, but not as constant and not as strong. I mean, I've kind of forgotten what it feels like to have absolutely zero nausea, but I can at least live with this. We have our anatomy scan on December 1. We're not finding out the gender, but I'm anxious to see our Cannoli again (and hope that it looks more like a baby than a Cannoli--like it did last time we saw it).
I'm exciting to be heading into the holidays and how much time I'll get to spend with my family. We have so much to be thankful for every year, but we're especially grateful for our new little one this year.
I'm also very thankful for maternity pants heading into Thanksgiving...or, you know, Thanksgiving Pants.
This good friend dropped off two boxes of her maternity clothes at my house yesterday afternoon and I am sooo grateful. I probably could have used a belly band with my regular clothes for another month or so, but the constant adjusting and unrolling was getting a bit annoying.
My friend is probably a size or two smaller than me on the bottom (big butt here, remember), but most of it seems to work fine. I only ended up being able to fit in one pair of her maternity jeans--the others wouldn't go past my volleyball thighs. The dress pants are so comfortable, I'm seriously wondering why all pants don't come with elastic waist bands. Get it together, clothing designers!
A bit unfortunately though, my friend's kids were both due in late summer, meaning she was getting bigger in the spring and summer. She was able to wear her normal clothes in the winter. Much of one of the boxes was filled with tanktops, sundresses, and shorts. I'm entering this week's forecast of 8-12 inches of snow with three pairs of dress pants, one pair of jeans, and a pair of capris that are about 1/4 inch too short (thankfully as long as I pair them with boots it isn't noticeable).
Also a bit unfortunately, other than my direct supervisor, no one at work knows I'm pregnant. So I'm still covering my (barely-there) bump with sweaters, cardigans, and vests. Maternity clothes like to emphasize even the smallest bumps, so I still don't have a lot to wear at work unless I cover it with a sweater...which I guess in 12° weather (yes, that's the forecast for next week---booo), isn't really a problem. I'm not really sure how to tell everyone at work. The obvious answer would be to announce it during staff meeting. We always have a time at the beginning to share personal news, but in no world does that sound like anything I would do. Being the center of attention like that would be unbearable. I've also thought about telling a few people, and since I work with all catty women, just letting it spread on its own. But then I'll be answering individual questions for the next month until everyone has heard. And that sounds pretty awful too. I'm not really friends, or even acquaintances, with anyone at work. There are several days a week I don't actually talk to anyone here. I'm feeling really weird about the whole thing, because I'm not going to be able to hide it much longer.
In other non-clothing crisis news, I got to hear Cannoli's little heartbeat last Friday. Dr. G. said my uterus was measuring perfectly (um...thanks?), and he found the heartbeat instantly. None of the drama of last time, thank God. He also pointed out that all of the "alien noises" I heard on the doppler were the baby moving. He asked me if I had felt any. I said that sometimes I think I do, but I'm not sure if it's really movement or just digesting food. He told me that officially I'm not supposed to feel anything until 19-20 weeks, but many women report movement earlier. Even as he was speaking, there was huge static on the doppler.
"That was a huge kick," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if you feel those if you're laying still."
So I guess I'm going to try to pay attention more and see if I can feel movement.
I'm 17 weeks today and starting to feel like more of a human than in my last post. I even made it most days last week without a nap. I went to the chiropractor on Thursday and he fixed my back. I can walk upright again and actually move without my hips feeling like they're about to jump out their sockets. The nausea seems to be lessening. It's still there, but not as constant and not as strong. I mean, I've kind of forgotten what it feels like to have absolutely zero nausea, but I can at least live with this. We have our anatomy scan on December 1. We're not finding out the gender, but I'm anxious to see our Cannoli again (and hope that it looks more like a baby than a Cannoli--like it did last time we saw it).
I'm exciting to be heading into the holidays and how much time I'll get to spend with my family. We have so much to be thankful for every year, but we're especially grateful for our new little one this year.
I'm also very thankful for maternity pants heading into Thanksgiving...or, you know, Thanksgiving Pants.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Not Good At This
I don't know how to start this post, so I'm just going to drop this bomb:
I'm not good at being pregnant.
I always thought I would be. I don't really know why, I just assumed I'd be one of those ladies that loves pregnancy and waltzes around town with tons of energy, glowing, with a beautiful, round bump. I'm not that lady. I'm the sweaty lady that can barely fit into my sweatpants because I have an over-sized beer gut.
I'm 16 weeks today, and other than the fact that I'm so excited to be having a baby, I've hated nearly every minute of being pregnant. I'm still nauseated 24/7. I'm still exhausted. I've been worried about how my back would be affected by having a significant weight pulling on it from the front--and it has not been good. Last night I couldn't sleep. I couldn't lay on either of my sides without both my stomach and my back hurting, and I was not longer comfortable lying on my back. My bump isn't adorable, it's fat. It's too much mac and cheese and not enough veggies. My face is getting fat and so are my arms. I tell myself I want to work out, but I just can't force myself to do it. Our "nursery" is so full of junk it overwhelms me to even start thinking about it. I've worn yoga pants to work for the past 6 days. I just want to sleep all the time because it's the only time I'm not dry heaving. I'm not good at this.
A friend of mine once told me I'd be good at being pregnant. She's one of the butt-less women who's back flows directly into her thighs. She said she was constantly off balance while pregnant because she was so front-heavy. Of course, this friend repeatedly told me during high school how jealous she was of how my butt looked in jeans. It's not really a secret--I have a big butt. Like one of those rapper guys' girlfriends sized butt. So apparently, I was supposed to be good at being pregnant, because my butt would keep me from tipping over once my belly got big.
I've also been an athlete my entire life. I'm fairly strong, coordinated, and agile. Carrying around an extra 20 pounds didn't seem like it would be rough. I've always had decent ab strength, which I hear is good for labor. When my volleyball career ended, what else was I supposed to do with this life-long training? Why not be really good at having babies?
At the beginning of our infertility journey, when it was becoming clear that getting pregnant wasn't easy, I had to reflect for awhile. I was definitely pro-adoption (even over using ART), and I had to really decide if I was okay with not carrying my children. And I decided early on that I was. While I had always imagined carrying my children the old fashioned way, I didn't find myself "grieving" the loss of pregnancy. Of course, it never truly came to that, but what I realized was what I really wanted was to have kids and be a mom. I didn't need to be pregnant for that to happen.
And then I got pregnant. And it was rough. From about 7 weeks on, I was miserable. I was nervous about everything. I was sick. I was tired. I was lazy. I was hungry. I was pooping. I was anxious. And I was seriously questioning why anyone had more than one child after knowing what they were getting into. THIS was the magical time of pregnancy that everyone gloated about? No, thank you.
I want this baby so badly to be here in my arms. I want to meet this tiny person that I've come to call Cannoli. I'm not even halfway through the pregnancy, but I'm so ready for it to be over. This might make me a horrible person for writing all this when there's so many women stuck in infertility wanting so badly to be pregnant. I know how that feels too. I thought this was what I wanted. I just didn't know that I'd be so bad at it.
I'm not good at being pregnant.
I always thought I would be. I don't really know why, I just assumed I'd be one of those ladies that loves pregnancy and waltzes around town with tons of energy, glowing, with a beautiful, round bump. I'm not that lady. I'm the sweaty lady that can barely fit into my sweatpants because I have an over-sized beer gut.
I'm 16 weeks today, and other than the fact that I'm so excited to be having a baby, I've hated nearly every minute of being pregnant. I'm still nauseated 24/7. I'm still exhausted. I've been worried about how my back would be affected by having a significant weight pulling on it from the front--and it has not been good. Last night I couldn't sleep. I couldn't lay on either of my sides without both my stomach and my back hurting, and I was not longer comfortable lying on my back. My bump isn't adorable, it's fat. It's too much mac and cheese and not enough veggies. My face is getting fat and so are my arms. I tell myself I want to work out, but I just can't force myself to do it. Our "nursery" is so full of junk it overwhelms me to even start thinking about it. I've worn yoga pants to work for the past 6 days. I just want to sleep all the time because it's the only time I'm not dry heaving. I'm not good at this.
A friend of mine once told me I'd be good at being pregnant. She's one of the butt-less women who's back flows directly into her thighs. She said she was constantly off balance while pregnant because she was so front-heavy. Of course, this friend repeatedly told me during high school how jealous she was of how my butt looked in jeans. It's not really a secret--I have a big butt. Like one of those rapper guys' girlfriends sized butt. So apparently, I was supposed to be good at being pregnant, because my butt would keep me from tipping over once my belly got big.
I've also been an athlete my entire life. I'm fairly strong, coordinated, and agile. Carrying around an extra 20 pounds didn't seem like it would be rough. I've always had decent ab strength, which I hear is good for labor. When my volleyball career ended, what else was I supposed to do with this life-long training? Why not be really good at having babies?
At the beginning of our infertility journey, when it was becoming clear that getting pregnant wasn't easy, I had to reflect for awhile. I was definitely pro-adoption (even over using ART), and I had to really decide if I was okay with not carrying my children. And I decided early on that I was. While I had always imagined carrying my children the old fashioned way, I didn't find myself "grieving" the loss of pregnancy. Of course, it never truly came to that, but what I realized was what I really wanted was to have kids and be a mom. I didn't need to be pregnant for that to happen.
And then I got pregnant. And it was rough. From about 7 weeks on, I was miserable. I was nervous about everything. I was sick. I was tired. I was lazy. I was hungry. I was pooping. I was anxious. And I was seriously questioning why anyone had more than one child after knowing what they were getting into. THIS was the magical time of pregnancy that everyone gloated about? No, thank you.
I want this baby so badly to be here in my arms. I want to meet this tiny person that I've come to call Cannoli. I'm not even halfway through the pregnancy, but I'm so ready for it to be over. This might make me a horrible person for writing all this when there's so many women stuck in infertility wanting so badly to be pregnant. I know how that feels too. I thought this was what I wanted. I just didn't know that I'd be so bad at it.
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