Hello…Is There Anybody In There?

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In case you didn’t get the reference.

So what have you missed while this blog has been gathering dust?

Well, firstly…I’m not pregnant anymore! (contain your shock)

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Noa Margret was born October 2, twenty-fourteen.

This is what she looks like now, three months later.

(Actually I just checked and I can’t find any up-to-the-moment pictures of her.) So here she is at two months. She looks mostly the same. Perhaps a little chubbier now.

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I didn’t make any official resolutions this year, but after I had a complete breakdown a couple weeks ago I snapped into Get Shit Done mode with a side of Sunshine and Positivity and Goals (although it sounds cooler if I call them intentions).

At the top of my list, as always, is to write more–specifically to blog more.  I’ve missed blogging.  I’ve missed having an opportunity to get some of these words out of my brain and onto paper (or rather, screen).  THERE ARE SO MANY WORDS.  So many.  And without regular adult company, I am lonely.  Very lonely.

Perhaps it’s pathetic to admit that, but damn it if it isn’t true.

So, invisible internet friends, I’m shoving my pessimism aside and ignoring the adage about the best-laid plans.

I’M BACK, Y’ALL.

Here’s to goals and to writing and positivity and shit.

Happy 2015.

 

 

 

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Mama Bird Checking In

Photo on 8-11-14 at 1.52 PM

Hello from 32 weeks!

I have to admit, I totally thought “nesting” was a myth.  I don’t remember having any nesting tendencies with my other two pregnancies, but this time?  Affirmative.

In the last couple of days, I’ve scrubbed the carpet, swept/mopped/vacuumed all floors, cleaned mirrors, done about 11 loads of laundry (including towels, sheets, comforters, shower curtains, pillows…), cleaned both bathrooms (even scrubbed the bathtubs, which I often skip in favor of a quick wipe-down), reorganized and decluttered and rearranged all the toys and closets and bookshelves, and set up the pack and play and carried it around to all of the different places I might want to use it to make sure it fits. I have a (small) list of things I need to acquire before bebe is born, and I’ve had to talk myself out of multiple Amazon purchases (because really…there’s plenty of time). And last night, as I was going to bed I was suddenly struck with the thought that I really should get my hospital bag packed.  (8 weeks early….?)

So I suppose that’s nesting–for me, at least.  I’m sure to some of you, that looks like a normal week, but my bar of productivity is set pretty low.  😉

Mentally, I’ve been doing really, really well for a couple of months.  I’ve been able to be a lot more involved with the boys, and I’m enjoying them so much more lately.

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That doesn’t mean that they don’t still make me crazy sometimes (like when I’m trying to clean up after dinner and have to keep breaking up naked wrestling matches and snapping go get your pajamas on right now or I’m not reading any stories tonight!! while the natives run screaming around the apartment like gleeful little banshee nudists).

But overall, and in spite of some personal shit that I’m dealing with right now (and trying, unsuccessfully as always, not to obsess about–my brain just loves a good obsession) things are good.

Really good.

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Things You Aren’t “Supposed” to Have When You’re Pregnant

20140717_153649[First order of pregnancy: make sure to take lots of precious “hand framing the bump” shots.  The classics never go out of style.  ;)]

So you’ve peed on that little magic wand and it told you you’re gestating a small human.  Congratulations!  Your next step is to stalk babycenter, babble, and other pregnancy websites (you know, the ones you’ve been secretly reading anyway while you’ve been TTC) for the next several months and throw yourself into a panic.

It’s okay, we’ve all been there.

As a seasoned pro (chortle chortle), let me assure you that it is very important to follow all of the rules.

Let’s begin.

You should never eat sushi.

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Ever.

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Or soft, unpasteurized cheeses.

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[Brie on toast, get in my belly.]

Don’t take hot baths.

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Or eat raw eggs.

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[If you’re going for the boxed stuff, I highly recommend Ghirardelli.]

And sorry, but you’re going to have to give up your daily coffee.

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And that nightly giant mug of beer.

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[Kidding. That one, at least, wasn’t mine.  I may be a rule breaker but I have managed to abstain from imbibing.]

And get rid of your cats.  They’re just disease incubators waiting to infect you.

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 The face of illness.

During the coming months, you will be bombarded with advice from all sides.  It is very important to follow all of it, all the time.  Especially when it comes from random strangers.

Good luck, mama-to-be.  May your sense of humor be with you.

Keyboard Confessional

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I suppose my first confession should be that I may have more pictures of my cats than I do of my kids.  What can I say…cats hold still and kids don’t.

 

I bought an apple pie at Costco a couple of days ago.  What was the occasion, you ask?  Oh, just me.  Wanting apple pie.  And it is basically gone now.

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Can I put “ability to demolish an entire apple pie without assistance” on my resume?

 

The other day I was reading the boys a story and when I came to the phrase “tuck them” I read it with an ‘f” in my head.  I realized it just before I said it out loud.  What is wrong with you, this is a children’s book!

 

I’ve lied (omissions! gentle untruths!) to my OBGYN a couple times.  I like to keep certain things on a need-to-know basis.

 

And speaking of doctors…I am addicted to internet diagnosis.  Nothing passes idle time like googling all of your symptoms.  WebMD has assured me that I have at least 5 types of cancer.  It’s a miracle I’m still alive.

 

And for my final divulgation, I have to say that as adorable and demanding as babies and toddlers are…I’m enjoying the boys so much more now that they are older.

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Although I admit that the recent demise of naptime is something I am not handling very well.

 

 

Final Stretch

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28 weeks!  We’ve hit the third trimester!  Hallelujah amen.

I’m going to attempt a quick pregnancy update that hopefully will not morph into a long-winded tale of the gritty details of my gestation thus far.

From the beginning, this pregnancy was quite different from my other two.  Mostly I just had more, and different, symptoms.  I was quite a bit sicker but that passed a while ago.  I still throw up a few times a week, but the episodes are brief and barely an inconvenience.  I taught the boys to rub my back while I’m throwing up (rather than staring over my shoulder, commenting and asking questions the entire time) which I highly recommend to all other expectant moms.

I started showing pretty early, and got big really quickly, as I did the last two times–and then it stalled.  It looks/feels like I haven’t gained any belly girth in the last month or two (although I have already surpassed my previous pregnancies in the weight gain department).  I don’t know if this is just a really small baby or I’m carrying differently or what.  Fun facts.  Moving on.

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Throughout the past few months, I’ve been thinking back to my first pregnancy and how different this third one has been–specifically my attitude and feelings about my body.  In both of my other pregnancies, I spent the first trimester exercising (which is unusual for me, ha) and restricting; I think somehow hoping that if I could create a weight deficit it would help me come out on top, in control of the numbers and what was happening to me.  (By the middle of the second trimester I had pretty much given up and settled in for the ride–although not without a lot of mental anguish over my changing physique and the appearance of many many many stretch marks.)

This time, I am proud to say that I did not restrict.  I did not panic and do dumb things like go on daily 2 hour walks with only a carefully counted out 12 almonds and 8 apple slices to sustain me.  I’ve just felt so much more comfortable this time–it helps that I’ve gone through this before, and it helps that I am no longer in the throes of bulimia.  For the most part, I feel pretty relaxed about everything (and let me tell you, that is a very nice mental space to be in).  I mentioned that I’ve gained a very decent amount of weight.  That is the truth.  I’ve already hit the amount I had gained by the time I delivered Tesla at 40 weeks.

A few years ago, this would have devastated me, panicked me.  But now?  I am proud to say that I feel really okay.  I mean, I’m hoping not to gain a ton more, because I know each extra pound that creeps on now is one I have to lose later, but for the most part I feel pretty comfortable in my body and I have no intention of freaking out or banning nachos and donut runs.

We can all share a knowing chuckle when I come crashing face-first off of my little body confidence soapbox after I get my postpartum reality check during that first post-delivery glance in the mirror…but for now, the ol’ bod and I are on good terms.

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Also, my cats are in love with the belly.  It’s hard to despise something that brings you tons of extra kitty snuggles.

 

 

 

 

Just One of Those Days

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This is the song on repeat in my head right now.

 

so I crawl underneath my blankets

where I can hide away, I know I can’t take it anymore

’cause I see now it’s just one of those days

 

I know quoting song lyrics is very Mysapce circa 2005…I suppose this means I’m forfeiting my rights as a card-carrying member of the adulthood club.

Ah well…being an adult sucks sometimes anyway.

So, as a preface, everything is fine.  Life is going along just swimmingly.  I just need to talk.

Photo on 6-9-14 at 7.07 PM #2[Unrelated picture…Hobbes has been so, so snuggly since I’ve been pregnant.  He loves to chill on my belly.)

Some days, even for a couple of weeks sometimes, I feel really good.  Everything is just brighter, I enjoy doing things and don’t mind interacting with people.  I’m sometimes impatient and I’m often quite tired, but it doesn’t completely derail me.  I have this sort of optimistic energy bursting out from inside me, and I can handle things.

These are the days or weeks when we do tons of messy art projects, and the times when I scrub down the fridge and vacuum the car and even clean the freaking garbage disposal.

This is when I reorganize the house, or plan an entire homeschool year, and basically feel equipped to tackle any problem.  I even seek out problems, because I am a Badass Problem Solver and that is just how I roll.  I decide I want to have seven kids and homeschool them all while we live on gorgeous acreage in the middle of nature in an Earthship that we built with our bare hands.

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[Don’t worry, I only have about 50 more of these.]

And then, overnight, that energy is gone.  Sucked from my body, leaving me an empty, exhausted shell.  What goes up must come down–the physics of life, right?

These are the days when everything seems hard.  The days when no amount of coffee can force me out of the haze.  Things are dimmer, as if there’s a fog obscuring everything and dulling all the colors, all the feelings.  They’re still there; I can just make them out through the mist but I can’t quite touch them.

These are the days when my body is filled with sand–heavy, wet sand.  Just standing is exhausting, and being asked to push a swing or locate a shoe literally makes me want to cry.

I don’t need a break, I don’t need time alone.  I get plenty of that, and it doesn’t help.  Not during these days.  The feeling, the greyness, persists when I’m alone, except now it’s staring me in the face while the minutes tick slowly by.  Nights are long because I don’t even know what to do with myself.  I can’t focus on or engage with anything, so the “read a book or watch tv or call a friend” list is moot.  And yet, I dread going to sleep, because morning, waking up to simultaneous weariness and tension in my body and staring at another day with endless hours to fill, will come too soon.

But nothing is permanent.  The good days don’t last, the bad days don’t last.  I take comfort in knowing I’ll be flying high again.  I just need to wait.  Find a way to pass the days, and wait.

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This Just In

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They’re going to have a sister!

Excitement all around.

 

 

Making Lemonade…Not One of My Talents

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So…pregnancy has me a little bummed right now.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the boys have fevers and I haven’t really left the house in three days.

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And missing several doses of meds probably contributed.  (Silas pointed out that I was probably throwing up my medicine a few times a week, so I switched to taking it at night, but then I kept forgetting it…)

I just feel…out of it.  Melancholy.  And my self-esteem has taken a hit, since I’m in that uncomfortable and awkward “don’t really look pregnant but have gained ten pounds anyway and everything fits weird” period.  Also I don’t have any bras that fit, and that’s never fun.  (I’m employing the old “sports bra strapped on over a regular bra” trick today.)

My face keeps breaking out and I re-dyed my hair yesterday since it had faded a lot…but it’s too dark.

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And Silas is leaving in less than 10 days and the thought of it is looming in my mind like a dark cloud of impending loneliness.

I know, I know.  Buck up and put the tiny violin back in its case, Heather.  Make lemonade.  Find the silver lining.

I do recognize that everything is just fine, and that my body image problems are mostly in my head.  It’s extremely normal to feel a little down in pregnancy–your body is changing in unfamiliar ways that are (mostly) out of your control.  And the boys will be better soon and my melancholy mood will fade away.

So, pity party over.  I’m taking down the streamers and popping all the pity balloons.  It’s the (freakin) weekend!  Cheering up is inevitable.

 

—–

This was a terrible Friday post, sorry to be such a downer.  Read this if you need some awesome in your life.

 

Confessions from My [Third] Second Trimester

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[first confession: this picture is actually from the first trimester.]

My first pregnancy (and the second pregnancy that followed in quick succession), I wore my normal padded, underwire bras through the entire duration of gestation and nursing (fun fact: I have never owned or worn a nursing bra.)  This time?  I haven’t worn real bra with things like hooks and clasps and underwire and separate cups for weeks.  Months, maybe.  Sports bras all the way–bring on the sexy uniboob.

I busted out the maternity clothes at 8 weeks.  I am so over squeezing into my old clothes for the sake of pride–this time, absolute and uninterrupted comfort is prioridad numero uno.

Here’s a basic summary of my diet for the first couple of months.

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IMG_20140309_114850[and let’s just take a minute to acknowledge the sahara desert that is my skin.]

Not pictured: boxes and boxes (and boxes) of Cheez-Its.  My snack of choice.

Around week 12, I was getting super smug that I hadn’t yet gained any weight.  And then the universe was like “JOKE’S ON YOU!” because I then proceeded to gain 6 pounds in one week.  Pride goeth before the pounds.

I got an ultrasound at my first appointment and I cried.  Of course, I was already crying because I had to have a pelvic exam, and those little bastards always induce anxiety attacks. (2 children and 2 IUDs later, you’d think I’d be used to it.  But something about that exam table and the stirrups and the nakedness just freaks the absolute hell out of me.) But when I looked up and saw the fuzzy, black and white images of the wee little babe inhabiting my womb, the hyperventilating and shaking and panic-sobs turned into a much calmer and happier kind of weeping.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I promised myself I would actually exercise consistently this time.  I did yoga every day…for like 9 days straight.  On the other hand, I have been very faithful to my daily afternoon nap.

My first pregnancy, I followed all the “rules”, did all the research, spent hours and hours poring over books and websites.  I’m not knocking that, because it’s an essential part of the first time experience.  (Plus, it’s so fun to actually have a legitimate reason to be on all the baby websites, after all the months you’ve spent secretly looking at them anyway.)

This time, I eat sushi and Brie and raw eggs and lunch meat and basically whatever the hell strikes my fancy. I don’t worry as much about all the cramping or the random, weird symptoms that crop up.  I’ve been through labor and delivery twice, so while I know it’s the farthest thing from a picnic that you could possibly come up with, I at least know what to expect and have concrete proof that I’ve survived it before.  I am in no way an expert and this baby is likely to throw me for a loop, as babies are wont to do, but overall I am just less worried.  And that is nice.

And even though this one was a huge surprise and even though the timing couldn’t have been much less ideal…

I am so excited.

 

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[Tesla, 1 week old]

I hope this one’s cute, too.

😉

 

 

 

 

 

So I Should Probably Mention

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14.5 (…ish) weeks, due date sometime in the first week of October (there’s been some confusion because I’m measuring a little big–shocker–hopefully the next ultrasound will clear it up).

We were very (!) surprised when we found out back in February, but are thrilled in spite of the seemingly less-than-ideal timing (Silas leaves for 4th year rotations in a few weeks, and none of his rotations are in this state.  So there’s that).

This pregnancy has been vastly different from my last two.  Tesla and Desmond think it’s a girl and have suggested the name Garter*.

They also think the baby is going to crawl out of my mouth when it gets bigger.  There are obviously a few gaping holes in their knowledge of functional anatomy.

So!  The adventure begins.  (Again.)

 

 

*Garter is not currently in the running for names.