I'm peeking over the corner at week 14 of this pregnancy and beginning to see moments of brilliant non-puked-on light peeking through. Now, I'm not going to get all "OMG, 2nd trimester is amazing" already, but OMG, PLEASE 2nd trimester, come through for me, baby!!
My belly is seriously out there and I'm really loving some of the new (consignment) stuff that I've gotten over the last couple of weeks. My body type really is suited very well for pregnancy. Although I have a pretty even distribution of extra uhhhh....love! Yeah, let's call it love!.....I do carry quite a bit in my tummy. My legs are slim, my ass is small and then my tummy kinda takes over. So my bottom is like a size 8 and my tummy is more like a 12. So maternity pants are kind of my best friend. I can fit nicely into a size medium jeans with that nice beautifully stretchy waistband.
I scheduled the ultrasound on June 2 which will tell us the sex of the baby. I truly don't care, which is strange for me. We really wanted a girl with a first, but Finn is like the best thing that ever happened to me - so I figure whatever I get is exactly what I'm supposed to have. It would be pretty incredible to experience what having a girl is like, but also pretty cool to have little boys, potentially brother buddies.
Mike and I also sat down and had the "how much do we need to save for maternity leave" conversation last night. This is depressing, since I am the one that brings in the larger salary of the two of us. I REALLY wanted to try to take 12 weeks this time (I did 9 with Finn) and there is just no way to make it happen. We aren't barely scraping by, but our idea of a luxurious night out is Qdoba and a rental movie. We don't exactly have a whole lot of places we can cut back on. We talked about various things in the house we could possibly sell, but we don't keep a whole lot of extra shit, so this isn't too much of a money source. We both work full time, he also goes to school full time, which leaves me with the kiddo alone in the evenings a couple of nights per week. The likelihood of either of us finding extra work right now is pretty low. How do couples do this?? And furthermore, how do couples manage to actually have one parent stay at home full time? It just doesn't add up for us.
Also, something slightly random - I wasn't necessarily keeping this blog a secret from my husband, but I just didn't tell him about it. He'd be fine with me doing whatever...I just wanted it to be my private little venting/sharing/emoting/sappy/whatever place. However, the other day, he joined twitter and I accidentally followed him on my Belly account instead of my public account....therefore, revealing my website to him. So once I realized I did this, I told him about the blog right away instead of letting him find it. And so check this out - he hasn't even looked at it. This just proves that opposites attract, because LET ME TELL YOU, if I found out he had a private blog where he was sharing his thoughts on WHATEVER, I would be lapping that shit up in like 2.2 seconds. Maybe it's because I never shut the hell up, so he is probably thinking "what in the world could she be talking about that I don't already know." Good point.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
On being wanted
Last week was particularly rough for me. Drama with my mom - and if I've learned one things from stories of the internet, I won't be airing that kind of dirty laundry. But let me just tell you that it's ongoing, it's exhausting and I'm far too busy growing a human over here to want a big family mess to clean up.
Jake had a random day off last week and came into my neck of the woods to meet me for lunch.
He was already there when I got to the restaurant, sitting in a booth in the front next to the windows. I walked up to the table, he stood up with his arms open. As soon as his arms closed around me, I started sobbing. My body shook and I dug my face into his chest. He held me tight even though the waiter was awkwardly trying to pass behind us at that very moment. It wasn't so much that I was upset about this specific issue that was going on - just a million different little emotions that are always rudely awakened anytime something happens with my mom. We finally sat down and he covered my hands with his.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so emotional," I said, as another fresh wave of tears fell down my face. You know what it's like when they won't turn off by sheer will.
"It's okay baby, I'm emotional too," he said earnestly.
This made me smile a little. My man doesn't get emotional. "Why aren't you crying, then?" I asked a little coyly.
"No, I'm serious. I was watching you walk inside from the car and..." - he put his hand in a fist over his heart - "I just feel so lucky to have you, that you are mine."
Now, first of all, let me tell you that I was wearing this nasty grey hoodie that our old dog chewed all these holes in and I was actually wearing the hood because it was raining. I have to say, I look REALLY bad in a hood, I'm not sure what it is. But they'll never cast me in the next Lord of the Rings movie where everyone is wearing those hooded capes. Secondly, Jake is a really sweet, communicative guy. He tells me he loves me, he kisses me in public, he holds my hand, he swats my ass any chance he gets. But he doesn't generally express himself verbally too much. He's a shower, not a talker.
On a recent Oprah, there was this gal talking about what woman really want - what gets our libido rockin', what makes us feel fantastic. She explained that it was being desired by the one who we desire. Man, this couldn't be more true. To feel really wanted, needed, loved, desired by the one whom you feel all those same emotions for. It is a truly powerful feeling and I think that after you've been married for several years, you start forgetting to make the other person aware that they are still the person that you CHOOSE. That you aren't sharing your life with them because of your mortgage and your marraige license and your kids and your religion and whatever else.
I realized in that moment in the restaurant that the parts of my life that truly affect me every day - my husband, my son, my work, my friends....that they are solid and truly fantastic (ok, my job isn't really FANTASTIC, but I am gainfully employed without risk of losing my job). I can't control every single relationship in my life (or so my therapist keeps trying to tell me). But what I can control is making sure that the ones in my life know more than that I love them - but instead, that I want them in my life. Not by obligation, but by choice.
Jake had a random day off last week and came into my neck of the woods to meet me for lunch.
He was already there when I got to the restaurant, sitting in a booth in the front next to the windows. I walked up to the table, he stood up with his arms open. As soon as his arms closed around me, I started sobbing. My body shook and I dug my face into his chest. He held me tight even though the waiter was awkwardly trying to pass behind us at that very moment. It wasn't so much that I was upset about this specific issue that was going on - just a million different little emotions that are always rudely awakened anytime something happens with my mom. We finally sat down and he covered my hands with his.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so emotional," I said, as another fresh wave of tears fell down my face. You know what it's like when they won't turn off by sheer will.
"It's okay baby, I'm emotional too," he said earnestly.
This made me smile a little. My man doesn't get emotional. "Why aren't you crying, then?" I asked a little coyly.
"No, I'm serious. I was watching you walk inside from the car and..." - he put his hand in a fist over his heart - "I just feel so lucky to have you, that you are mine."
Now, first of all, let me tell you that I was wearing this nasty grey hoodie that our old dog chewed all these holes in and I was actually wearing the hood because it was raining. I have to say, I look REALLY bad in a hood, I'm not sure what it is. But they'll never cast me in the next Lord of the Rings movie where everyone is wearing those hooded capes. Secondly, Jake is a really sweet, communicative guy. He tells me he loves me, he kisses me in public, he holds my hand, he swats my ass any chance he gets. But he doesn't generally express himself verbally too much. He's a shower, not a talker.
On a recent Oprah, there was this gal talking about what woman really want - what gets our libido rockin', what makes us feel fantastic. She explained that it was being desired by the one who we desire. Man, this couldn't be more true. To feel really wanted, needed, loved, desired by the one whom you feel all those same emotions for. It is a truly powerful feeling and I think that after you've been married for several years, you start forgetting to make the other person aware that they are still the person that you CHOOSE. That you aren't sharing your life with them because of your mortgage and your marraige license and your kids and your religion and whatever else.
I realized in that moment in the restaurant that the parts of my life that truly affect me every day - my husband, my son, my work, my friends....that they are solid and truly fantastic (ok, my job isn't really FANTASTIC, but I am gainfully employed without risk of losing my job). I can't control every single relationship in my life (or so my therapist keeps trying to tell me). But what I can control is making sure that the ones in my life know more than that I love them - but instead, that I want them in my life. Not by obligation, but by choice.
Monday, April 20, 2009
3 times the insanity
I was looking at my Google calendar this morning and realized that the triathlon that I signed up for is in under 5 weeks. I'm somehow planning to still do it even though I haven't ran in about 8 weeks. Everyone thinks I'm crazy - and I really don't have anything to prove. Well, maybe that's not entirely true. This will be my second tri - the first was in June of last year and was my driving factor for the hours I spent at the gym last spring, resulting in lots of splendid weight loss. The event was great - I did it with a friend and we stayed with each other the whole time. I would have smoked her on the swim, she could have killed me on the bike, but we slowed down so we wouldn't lose each other. The run was pretty much equal for both of us, as our legs were such jello by then, we just alternated running and walking until we crossed the finish line. This time, I'm doing the race with my dad. He was so impressed that I did the tri, he signed up for one in his state and started training right away. He's in the best shape of any 60+ year old I've ever personally known and I have no doubt he is going to kick my pregnant ass on this race. Not that it's a competition - but I was sorta looking forward to beating him. This was before my 2 month hiatus from the gym. Now, I'm just hoping that I'll be able to finish without the help of a stretcher. My hope is that everyone will be SO IMPRESSED that I'm doing the race pregnant that even if I'm dead last, I'll still get kudos. The very next weekend after I fly out to do the race with my dad is the tri that I participated in last year here at home - and I'm planning on doing that one too. So, 2 races in 6 days. Hmm. Am I insane?
I am going to force myself to resume my lunch hour gym visits, starting today. There's a pretty good chance you'll find me napping on a weight bench or sitting on a treadmill watching HGTV on one of the television sets in the cardio room, but BY GOD, I'll be at the gym.
I am going to force myself to resume my lunch hour gym visits, starting today. There's a pretty good chance you'll find me napping on a weight bench or sitting on a treadmill watching HGTV on one of the television sets in the cardio room, but BY GOD, I'll be at the gym.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Foot, meet mouth
So it turns out that those brief 3 days last week of relief was a mere temporary tease. Easter weekend was probably the two worst days of nausea I've experienced yet, made even worse by the fact that I truly thought I was on the upswing.
My sweet, sweet husband came home last night with an arsenal of nausea-combating goodies - teas, suckers and candies meant to "ease morning sickness." He is so wonderful, even though I know his true motivation is that I start feeling good we can begin having sex again. Although he has been incredibly understanding, he did read me off the stats of the number of times we've had sex in the past 8 1/2 weeks and he seemed quite depressed by the number. I know, babe. Me too. And after this nausea and the big belly and the birth and the breastfeeding and the vasectomy is all over, we'll start doing that again - see ya in mid 2010. Smooches.
We went to a child's birthday party and Finn wore his truly adorable Uggs. Let me be clear - I would never ever ever ever pay $100 for a pair of toddler shoes. I don't even spend that much on shoes for me, am I seriously going to drop a bill on shoes for my 2 years old that he will outgrow in 3 months? Negative.
We are the proud recipients of hand me downs via about 4 different sources. One of which happens to be a very well off couple whose 2 year old is growing so fast and so big and so tall that we often get their brand new, super nice clothes that have labels on them that can only be purchased in those high end boutiques I would never set my Target-footwear-clad feet in.
I always get compliments on his shoes, because - duh that are so f-ing cute (and like crocs, Uggs always look WAY cuter on kids than they do on adults). At this birthday party, the host was raving about Finn's shoes. Like the high class gal that I am, I scoffed "they are so cute, but I would never pay a hundred bones on a pair of kids shoes, thank god for hand me downs!" She nodded vaguely and we went on to other topics.
As we were leaving, I grabbed my coat from the closet and what did I see on the floor of the closet? Oh come on, you can guess. Not one. Not two. THREE pairs of infant Uggs for her little girl, all lined up as beautiful little pieces of art. Well, ugh. As if I didn't feel bad enough.
My sweet, sweet husband came home last night with an arsenal of nausea-combating goodies - teas, suckers and candies meant to "ease morning sickness." He is so wonderful, even though I know his true motivation is that I start feeling good we can begin having sex again. Although he has been incredibly understanding, he did read me off the stats of the number of times we've had sex in the past 8 1/2 weeks and he seemed quite depressed by the number. I know, babe. Me too. And after this nausea and the big belly and the birth and the breastfeeding and the vasectomy is all over, we'll start doing that again - see ya in mid 2010. Smooches.
We went to a child's birthday party and Finn wore his truly adorable Uggs. Let me be clear - I would never ever ever ever pay $100 for a pair of toddler shoes. I don't even spend that much on shoes for me, am I seriously going to drop a bill on shoes for my 2 years old that he will outgrow in 3 months? Negative.
We are the proud recipients of hand me downs via about 4 different sources. One of which happens to be a very well off couple whose 2 year old is growing so fast and so big and so tall that we often get their brand new, super nice clothes that have labels on them that can only be purchased in those high end boutiques I would never set my Target-footwear-clad feet in.
I always get compliments on his shoes, because - duh that are so f-ing cute (and like crocs, Uggs always look WAY cuter on kids than they do on adults). At this birthday party, the host was raving about Finn's shoes. Like the high class gal that I am, I scoffed "they are so cute, but I would never pay a hundred bones on a pair of kids shoes, thank god for hand me downs!" She nodded vaguely and we went on to other topics.
As we were leaving, I grabbed my coat from the closet and what did I see on the floor of the closet? Oh come on, you can guess. Not one. Not two. THREE pairs of infant Uggs for her little girl, all lined up as beautiful little pieces of art. Well, ugh. As if I didn't feel bad enough.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
And another thing
Amazingly after my ridiculous rant a couple of nights ago, there has been a marked improvement in my nausea. I have felt closer to normal yesterday and today than I have in nearly 2 months. I am excited to actually start enjoying this pregnancy.
I read this excerpt from the Halle Berry interview in the May Harper's Bazaar:
"My pregnancy was amazing. I was happy that whole time, I felt good, I had energy, I was like Superwoman. I wish I could feel like that for the rest of my life, that's how fantastic it was."
First of all - I hate this new Wonderwall thing that msn.com has going on - on all their articles, you have to either click "next" 10 times or scroll horizontally to read the article. So lame. I get that they are trying to be all different or emo or something, but it's all too overdone and obvious.
Anyway, back to my point - when I read this, I thought that one of two things were going on. Either she did what I did a few months back and remembered only the fabulous things about being pregnant....OR....she's some kind of mutant who didn't experience nausea, back pain, sleeplessness, etc etc etc. And hey, I am one of those people who wishes others the best, so I certainly hope it's the latter. But this just makes me insanely jealous. Why is it that celebrities have such a way of pretending like their lives are all glitter and rainbows? Give me a break.
Now that my morning sickness seems to be passing, I started to think about some of the other things that I have to look forward to. One of those things, I'm determined not to experience again - stretch marks. I got my fair share with my first pregnancy, and I'd like to do whatever I can to make those the last ones I get. To be fair, I had started to get them before I even got pregnant because I had gained so much weight in the years before. This combined with the fact that my mom has terrible stretch marks had me prepared that it was going to be bad. However, I wasn't expecting them to be on my hips and on my thighs and so high on my belly....and so low on my belly. People would say "use this product" or "try this lotion" but I was all "it's my fate, I'm not going to bother with that stuff." Well, HA, I really showed them, didn't I?? Ha! Ha! Ha...oh wait. Cue cutting nose, spiting face. SO this time, I'm all up in all the lotions and creams and oils and whatever else I can slather on this belly of mine. My marks remain silvery and deep...and I'd like them to just stay how they are so hopefully they can cut them all away when I can afford my tummy tuck in 5 years. I do not subscribe to that theory that my marks are like the roadmark of my journey to bring my child into the world. My child is enough of a testament to that. Why do I also need to look at these ugly marks every day too? Seriously, if you can look at yours and smile, you are a more content person that I. And if you don't have any...well, I'm freakin jealous.
When I started writing this post, I was determined to end on a postive note since my last one was so incredibly in the dumps. So - let me take this moment to say I'm really looking forward to the 2nd trimester. No nausea. beautiful round belly emerging, the kicks and movement starting, the glow, the kindness of strangers, the smiles from random people and my cute new maternity shirts. Bring it on :)
I read this excerpt from the Halle Berry interview in the May Harper's Bazaar:
"My pregnancy was amazing. I was happy that whole time, I felt good, I had energy, I was like Superwoman. I wish I could feel like that for the rest of my life, that's how fantastic it was."
First of all - I hate this new Wonderwall thing that msn.com has going on - on all their articles, you have to either click "next" 10 times or scroll horizontally to read the article. So lame. I get that they are trying to be all different or emo or something, but it's all too overdone and obvious.
Anyway, back to my point - when I read this, I thought that one of two things were going on. Either she did what I did a few months back and remembered only the fabulous things about being pregnant....OR....she's some kind of mutant who didn't experience nausea, back pain, sleeplessness, etc etc etc. And hey, I am one of those people who wishes others the best, so I certainly hope it's the latter. But this just makes me insanely jealous. Why is it that celebrities have such a way of pretending like their lives are all glitter and rainbows? Give me a break.
Now that my morning sickness seems to be passing, I started to think about some of the other things that I have to look forward to. One of those things, I'm determined not to experience again - stretch marks. I got my fair share with my first pregnancy, and I'd like to do whatever I can to make those the last ones I get. To be fair, I had started to get them before I even got pregnant because I had gained so much weight in the years before. This combined with the fact that my mom has terrible stretch marks had me prepared that it was going to be bad. However, I wasn't expecting them to be on my hips and on my thighs and so high on my belly....and so low on my belly. People would say "use this product" or "try this lotion" but I was all "it's my fate, I'm not going to bother with that stuff." Well, HA, I really showed them, didn't I?? Ha! Ha! Ha...oh wait. Cue cutting nose, spiting face. SO this time, I'm all up in all the lotions and creams and oils and whatever else I can slather on this belly of mine. My marks remain silvery and deep...and I'd like them to just stay how they are so hopefully they can cut them all away when I can afford my tummy tuck in 5 years. I do not subscribe to that theory that my marks are like the roadmark of my journey to bring my child into the world. My child is enough of a testament to that. Why do I also need to look at these ugly marks every day too? Seriously, if you can look at yours and smile, you are a more content person that I. And if you don't have any...well, I'm freakin jealous.
When I started writing this post, I was determined to end on a postive note since my last one was so incredibly in the dumps. So - let me take this moment to say I'm really looking forward to the 2nd trimester. No nausea. beautiful round belly emerging, the kicks and movement starting, the glow, the kindness of strangers, the smiles from random people and my cute new maternity shirts. Bring it on :)
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
It's about time
Where do I begin? I have so much to say and yet so little patience and energy to express myself. The past 3 weeks have been difficult and ... I'm beginning to feel like a toddler who is going to throw myself on the grocery store floor, arms and legs flailing. I'm so sick of feeling sick. The nausea began right around 4 weeks. This hit me a bit by surprise since I didn't get sick until about 10 weeks with Finn. However, I was almost relieved in some way because I thought maybe it would end sooner - and it still might (and for god's sake, please let that be the case) but the last 7 weeks have been miserable.
Here's the thing - when I was trying to get pregnant, I made this proclamation to myself: When I got pregnant, I would embrace my pregnancy symptoms. Yes, I actually thought this. I truly believed that I would be so thrilled to be pregnant that anything that came at me would just roll off my back with ease. I mean, this is just totally ridiculous and makes me feel even more foolish as this nausea is making me mentally fall to my knees.
My reaction to wanting to throw up nearly 24 hours a day has been to mentally retract. I've become virtually nonexistent on all the social networking sites that used to rule my world (facebook, twitter, etc). I have stopped returning phone calls and my weekends have become long stretches of time at home. I do the bare minimum at work to not call attention to myself and the bare amount at home to not make my husband feel like there is a vagrant living in the house who is unable to do dishes or pick up their shit. I give as much energy as possible to Finn and then go to the sleep at 8pm. Not because I'm tired - because I just don't want to be awake feeling like I do.
"How do you feel today?" is the question that I'm asked about 25 times per day. I know these people mean well, but how many ways can I say that I'm always about 2 deep breaths away from puking into the trashcan under my desk?
As may be obvious now - I'm knee deep in a pity party for one...and let me just tell you, it's one hell of a rager.
Here's the thing - when I was trying to get pregnant, I made this proclamation to myself: When I got pregnant, I would embrace my pregnancy symptoms. Yes, I actually thought this. I truly believed that I would be so thrilled to be pregnant that anything that came at me would just roll off my back with ease. I mean, this is just totally ridiculous and makes me feel even more foolish as this nausea is making me mentally fall to my knees.
My reaction to wanting to throw up nearly 24 hours a day has been to mentally retract. I've become virtually nonexistent on all the social networking sites that used to rule my world (facebook, twitter, etc). I have stopped returning phone calls and my weekends have become long stretches of time at home. I do the bare minimum at work to not call attention to myself and the bare amount at home to not make my husband feel like there is a vagrant living in the house who is unable to do dishes or pick up their shit. I give as much energy as possible to Finn and then go to the sleep at 8pm. Not because I'm tired - because I just don't want to be awake feeling like I do.
"How do you feel today?" is the question that I'm asked about 25 times per day. I know these people mean well, but how many ways can I say that I'm always about 2 deep breaths away from puking into the trashcan under my desk?
As may be obvious now - I'm knee deep in a pity party for one...and let me just tell you, it's one hell of a rager.
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