We ran away to Ohio for the majority of last week. Mostly we did it for me, because I'm turning 30 tomorrow and I couldn't stomach the idea of facing that without seeing some of the most important people in my life, but we also did it for Owen who turned 2 years old on Wednesday. I couldn't stomach the idea of him getting older without those same people surrounding him.
It was really a wonderful time. I got my fill of friends, family, and even a couple co-workers while there. The only other time we'd gone back for any extended period of time was for my father's funeral and time with my family took precidence over meeting my girlfriends or catching up with the in-laws. Not to mention we had just found out I was pregnant then. In fact, I took the deciding pregnancy test in the questionably clean bathroom of a Best Western in Breezewood, Pennsylvania on our way back to Ohio only hours after finding out my dad had passed away. Let's just say my head wasn't truly in our last extended visit.
Last week was a much needed vacation. I adore my husband and son but time with my girlfriends is important as it's one of the few things that reminds of who I am beyond mother and wife. They bring Kate out to play and they're just so damn entertaining. Facebook can only go so far in keeping in touch with loved ones. Sometimes you need the real thing and the real stories and the real laughs to really feel a part of anything.
Owen also seemed to have a great time with his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and his friends. He cried every time we drove away from a grandparent and it broke my heart, making me question whether or not moving away was the right decision. Fortunately, the look on his face when we walked in the door after the 6 hour drive home and the way he ran to his toys, to his bed, to his favorite hiding places, and the smile that crossed his lips helped ease my fears. Owen had a great time in Ohio but he was never as comfortable and at home as he was within a mere 5 minutes of walking into our Baltimore home. He misses everyone like I do, but he also likes his life here as much as I do.
While I'm also pretty sure Jon had a good time, I know he only did it for me. He knew how much I needed to see everyone, and he was in no position to argue as he left for a week long work conference in Dallas this morning. He knew I needed good times and good memories to fill my heart for this coming week since I am literally facing my 30th birthday alone. I'm so thankful he knew.
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Removing the anvil from my chest
I logged on to Facebook today and while scrolling through the news feed, I found a friend of mine shared a link regarding the decline of parents opting to have their little boys circumcised and her excitement at the news. Given the debatable subject of the article I knew it was bound to create a few opinionated posts, and being the nosy Facebooker that I am I decided to read the comments. Bottom line, I should have known better, but what can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.
One thing I want to make clear is this has nothing to do with the friend who posted the link because she is truly a wonderful person and I value her advice in both parenting and lifestyle. I'm writing this now because the emotions I took away from her post reminded me of a topic that has plagued me during my entire time as a mother. It just so happens that her innocent and maybe even random re-posting of an article and some of the responses gave me the words to do so.
The following was too long to add to any comment thread:
I love my children with every fiber of my being. They are my entire world and the thought of anything ever happening to remove them from that world sends chills down my spine, creates a painful emptiness in my chest and completely removes my will to live. And that's just the thought that anything could happen. Every single decision in our lives, big or small, important or seemingly irrelevant, is made with them in mind. Every decision I have ever had to make as a parent, some even prior to becoming pregnant the first time, was made to keep us all functioning and happy and healthy to the best of my human abilities. I do the research, I ask for advice, I sit down and contemplate and try to envision every possible outcome, and then roll all of that into one final decision that will keep us moving as a solid unit.
I like to think this makes me a good mother. I have to believe this makes me a good mother. I have to remind myself all the time amidst debates on staying at home versus working, breastfeeding versus formula, vaccinating or not, circumcising or not, I made all of these very tricky decisions with Owen in mind. I made them to the very best of my knowledge with ALL of us in mind because we have to work as a whole. And I have to tell myself this makes me a great mother because based on some things I've read online I've already failed miserably despite putting my children first.
I breastfed for seven months. They were the darkest, scariest seven months of my life. I'm alternating between typing and sobbing right now as I force myself to go back there and find the words to describe it for you. Medication didn't work. I had this precious, beautiful little boy with bright eyes and the sweetest smile looking up at me every day and I couldn't return the favor. I never wanted to hurt him...just myself, very badly. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that if I ended my own pain by hurting myself I would in turn be hurting him. Strangely, the only thing that kept me alive was him and my unwillingness to give up on him. But it was my unwillingness to accept that breastfeeding, at that time, was not right for me and my inability to put the peer pressure and the everlasting battle between breastfeeding and bottle-feeding behind me that kept me in that horrific and depressing state in the first place! I tried to do what the majority of other mothers said was the only correct choice, and I fought a very scary bout of postpartum depression that was only prolonged by the breastfeeding, and I nearly did more harm than good.
So all you moms can come and yell at me for giving my child formula for the remaining five months of his first year, and for being fully prepared to do the same with the child that is in my womb should the same circumstances arise the second time around. You can scold me and tell me how selfish I am for not giving my child the best start possible. Go ahead. I won't listen. I will continue to make the choices that are best for MY children and OUR family and I will NEVER judge a woman for opting against breastfeeding. After all, how am I possibly giving my child the best start if it puts me in such a dark place that I can barely see him?
In my world, making the decision to stay at home or work, to breastfeed or use formula, organic or inorganic, to vaccinate or not, to circumcise or not, to baptize or not, to home school or private school or public school does not add or reduce value to your motherhood. What matters is that you give your children as much love and attention and safety and guidance as you possibly can. Help them become strong, confident, thoughtful, brave little people. Offer the support necessary to carry those traits into adulthood and their own parenthood. That alone will determine your value in motherhood.
For the record, Owen is circumcised. It wasn't until I learned we were having a little boy that I was made aware of an option not to. Jon and I sat down and talked about it, and I asked him if, given the choice again, he would opt to have the procedure done and he said "Yes." And since I lack a penis and the mountain of pride that seems to be held there, who am I to argue?
One thing I want to make clear is this has nothing to do with the friend who posted the link because she is truly a wonderful person and I value her advice in both parenting and lifestyle. I'm writing this now because the emotions I took away from her post reminded me of a topic that has plagued me during my entire time as a mother. It just so happens that her innocent and maybe even random re-posting of an article and some of the responses gave me the words to do so.
***
The following was too long to add to any comment thread:
I love my children with every fiber of my being. They are my entire world and the thought of anything ever happening to remove them from that world sends chills down my spine, creates a painful emptiness in my chest and completely removes my will to live. And that's just the thought that anything could happen. Every single decision in our lives, big or small, important or seemingly irrelevant, is made with them in mind. Every decision I have ever had to make as a parent, some even prior to becoming pregnant the first time, was made to keep us all functioning and happy and healthy to the best of my human abilities. I do the research, I ask for advice, I sit down and contemplate and try to envision every possible outcome, and then roll all of that into one final decision that will keep us moving as a solid unit.
I like to think this makes me a good mother. I have to believe this makes me a good mother. I have to remind myself all the time amidst debates on staying at home versus working, breastfeeding versus formula, vaccinating or not, circumcising or not, I made all of these very tricky decisions with Owen in mind. I made them to the very best of my knowledge with ALL of us in mind because we have to work as a whole. And I have to tell myself this makes me a great mother because based on some things I've read online I've already failed miserably despite putting my children first.
I breastfed for seven months. They were the darkest, scariest seven months of my life. I'm alternating between typing and sobbing right now as I force myself to go back there and find the words to describe it for you. Medication didn't work. I had this precious, beautiful little boy with bright eyes and the sweetest smile looking up at me every day and I couldn't return the favor. I never wanted to hurt him...just myself, very badly. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that if I ended my own pain by hurting myself I would in turn be hurting him. Strangely, the only thing that kept me alive was him and my unwillingness to give up on him. But it was my unwillingness to accept that breastfeeding, at that time, was not right for me and my inability to put the peer pressure and the everlasting battle between breastfeeding and bottle-feeding behind me that kept me in that horrific and depressing state in the first place! I tried to do what the majority of other mothers said was the only correct choice, and I fought a very scary bout of postpartum depression that was only prolonged by the breastfeeding, and I nearly did more harm than good.
So all you moms can come and yell at me for giving my child formula for the remaining five months of his first year, and for being fully prepared to do the same with the child that is in my womb should the same circumstances arise the second time around. You can scold me and tell me how selfish I am for not giving my child the best start possible. Go ahead. I won't listen. I will continue to make the choices that are best for MY children and OUR family and I will NEVER judge a woman for opting against breastfeeding. After all, how am I possibly giving my child the best start if it puts me in such a dark place that I can barely see him?
In my world, making the decision to stay at home or work, to breastfeed or use formula, organic or inorganic, to vaccinate or not, to circumcise or not, to baptize or not, to home school or private school or public school does not add or reduce value to your motherhood. What matters is that you give your children as much love and attention and safety and guidance as you possibly can. Help them become strong, confident, thoughtful, brave little people. Offer the support necessary to carry those traits into adulthood and their own parenthood. That alone will determine your value in motherhood.
***
For the record, Owen is circumcised. It wasn't until I learned we were having a little boy that I was made aware of an option not to. Jon and I sat down and talked about it, and I asked him if, given the choice again, he would opt to have the procedure done and he said "Yes." And since I lack a penis and the mountain of pride that seems to be held there, who am I to argue?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Team Boy
Seriously. What kind of person posts that they are going to find out the sex of their baby and doesn't say anything about it for 2 more weeks? I do! Sorry I suck sometimes.
We're having a little boy! Owen is going to have a little brother! We shall name him Lucas! I know I expressed a strange desire for a little girl, and trust me it's still there (if it doesn't go away I guess this won't be my last pregnancy after all), but I'm ecstatic to be having another baby boy. A boy is familiar territory and I'm not good with change. We need next to nothing because I saved it all from Owen. Jon desperately wanted a little boy he could name Lucas because that's what he wanted to name Owen and I vetoed him. I also think back to my child and teen years and the way my brothers and sisters and I behaved, and well, my brothers were much nicer to my parents. Boys love and protect their mother, and teenage girls, sometimes no matter how well raised, can be caught calling their mother a bitch whore with little to no remorse.
Anyway, Lucas looked good in the views he would let us see. I knew he was a mover and a shaker prior to going in for the ultrasound but it was fun to let Jon and the technician see just how much he liked to move and shake. Feet were kicking, hands were fidgeting with the umbilical cord, and after 40 minutes of poking and prodding him to get better views he started flipping and twirling like a fish in water, doing whatever it took to get away from that evil woman with the pokey picture wand. I have to go back in 2 weeks so they can attempt to get the missing photos of his left foot and one final view of his heart. Otherwise, he is one very healthy and active 11 ounce baby boy.
We're having a little boy! Owen is going to have a little brother! We shall name him Lucas! I know I expressed a strange desire for a little girl, and trust me it's still there (if it doesn't go away I guess this won't be my last pregnancy after all), but I'm ecstatic to be having another baby boy. A boy is familiar territory and I'm not good with change. We need next to nothing because I saved it all from Owen. Jon desperately wanted a little boy he could name Lucas because that's what he wanted to name Owen and I vetoed him. I also think back to my child and teen years and the way my brothers and sisters and I behaved, and well, my brothers were much nicer to my parents. Boys love and protect their mother, and teenage girls, sometimes no matter how well raised, can be caught calling their mother a bitch whore with little to no remorse.
Anyway, Lucas looked good in the views he would let us see. I knew he was a mover and a shaker prior to going in for the ultrasound but it was fun to let Jon and the technician see just how much he liked to move and shake. Feet were kicking, hands were fidgeting with the umbilical cord, and after 40 minutes of poking and prodding him to get better views he started flipping and twirling like a fish in water, doing whatever it took to get away from that evil woman with the pokey picture wand. I have to go back in 2 weeks so they can attempt to get the missing photos of his left foot and one final view of his heart. Otherwise, he is one very healthy and active 11 ounce baby boy.
Profile of Baby Lucas
20 weeks and the bump that seemed to appear overnight. And the ironing board I didn't bother to move and the bed I was too lazy to make. Such is pregnancy, right?
Friday, January 27, 2012
What are you, baby?
Do you think it means anything that every day I fight the urge to refer to our baby as "she"? If I were anyone else I'd say maybe, but considering I've never accurately guessed the sex of an unborn baby I'm inclined to say no. I'll be elated with either a girl or a boy but this daily slip up makes me think subconsciously I'm a hoping for a girl.
Okay, maybe it's a little more than subconsciously...
Thankfully, my curiosity will be answered one week from today!
Okay, maybe it's a little more than subconsciously...
Thankfully, my curiosity will be answered one week from today!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Things you shouldn't say to your pregnant wife, part 2
Me: "I think I'm finally starting to look pregnant. Can you see it?"
Jon: "Yeah, especially right here!" (gesturing to my butt)
Jon: "Yeah, especially right here!" (gesturing to my butt)
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Why you can't leave me in charge of paperwork
Closet 1 of 5 = done. I wasn't cool enough to take before and after photos but you will not believe what I found: a receipt for one pregnancy test dated July 2, 2009, the same day I found out I was pregnant with Owen. I don't know how that managed to hang around this long, let alone make the move, but it was a nice trip down memory lane. Then his little brother or sister kicked me and brought me back to the present.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Eating Excuses
I had come within 40 pounds of my goal weight before finding out I was pregnant with Owen. I realize 40 pounds still sounds like a long way to go but when you start out with 120 to lose, you can almost taste victory with only 40 left. You start letting yourself belief that soon you'll be able to shop in ANY clothing store, that soon you'll be able to put on your swimsuit and still feel confident, that it was only a matter of days before you'll feel truly comfortable in your own skin for the first time in your life. Well, that's how I felt at least. 70 pounds lost in one year and I was in the best shape of my life.
Most of you have known me long enough, or have been reading this blog long enough, to remember what I was like in those first 3 or 4 months of my pregnancy: scared to death. I was so completely convinced I was going to lose my baby, so convinced the second I became comfortable and let myself enjoy the idea of finally having a baby it would die in my womb and I'd be left with an incurable broken heart. I never mentioned it here, but I even stopped exercising completely because I thought the safest thing for my baby would be to lay around on the couch all day. I had just been laid off by Reader's Digest which only enabled the situation. I didn't have to work, I didn't have anywhere to go, so I hauled up on the couch and watched the Discovery Health Channel and rubbed my belly all day. It didn't take long before I was justifying nightly binge eating by thinking I may never have the chance to experience pregnancy again, so why deny myself anything? And while it is true--we may never be so blessed again--I have found myself 30 pounds heavier and really confused by how I ever managed to lose so much weight before! I don't understand where the discipline came from, or the energy, or the overall motivation. I obviously had more time. I recorded every morsel of food that entered my mouth, every calorie I burned in exercise, and worked out every day for 60 minutes or more.
I don't have that kind of time now, but I can take some time to look after myself. I have to take some time to look after myself. I crave being comfortable in my skin again. I want to enjoy shopping for clothes again. Most of all, Owen deserves a confident Mama. His life can only benefit by me improving my quality of life.
So, it starts now, while I'm sitting solidly at an even 200 pounds. I've been bouncing around between 190 and 200 since having Owen. My goal will be small and just shoot for the 170 pounds I'd reached before letting myself go during pregnancy. I may never hit the 120 pound goal I had originally, but I don't care about that anymore. I've spent most of my life accusing the world of being fat phobic, but I think I've finally realized that it's not the world that's fat phobic, it's me. Expect a short update and weekly weigh-in in the months to come.
Most of you have known me long enough, or have been reading this blog long enough, to remember what I was like in those first 3 or 4 months of my pregnancy: scared to death. I was so completely convinced I was going to lose my baby, so convinced the second I became comfortable and let myself enjoy the idea of finally having a baby it would die in my womb and I'd be left with an incurable broken heart. I never mentioned it here, but I even stopped exercising completely because I thought the safest thing for my baby would be to lay around on the couch all day. I had just been laid off by Reader's Digest which only enabled the situation. I didn't have to work, I didn't have anywhere to go, so I hauled up on the couch and watched the Discovery Health Channel and rubbed my belly all day. It didn't take long before I was justifying nightly binge eating by thinking I may never have the chance to experience pregnancy again, so why deny myself anything? And while it is true--we may never be so blessed again--I have found myself 30 pounds heavier and really confused by how I ever managed to lose so much weight before! I don't understand where the discipline came from, or the energy, or the overall motivation. I obviously had more time. I recorded every morsel of food that entered my mouth, every calorie I burned in exercise, and worked out every day for 60 minutes or more.
I don't have that kind of time now, but I can take some time to look after myself. I have to take some time to look after myself. I crave being comfortable in my skin again. I want to enjoy shopping for clothes again. Most of all, Owen deserves a confident Mama. His life can only benefit by me improving my quality of life.
So, it starts now, while I'm sitting solidly at an even 200 pounds. I've been bouncing around between 190 and 200 since having Owen. My goal will be small and just shoot for the 170 pounds I'd reached before letting myself go during pregnancy. I may never hit the 120 pound goal I had originally, but I don't care about that anymore. I've spent most of my life accusing the world of being fat phobic, but I think I've finally realized that it's not the world that's fat phobic, it's me. Expect a short update and weekly weigh-in in the months to come.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Introducing...
Owen Michael Keenan
Born exactly one week ago today on Monday, February 22, 2010 at 9:05PM which just so happened to be his due date. He was 7 pounds 7 ounces, 20 inches long, and the most adorable thing I have ever seen.
The actual labor story (a very long story) is yet to come--somewhere between 4AM feedings and the dozens of poopy diapers--but I wanted to be sure to at least let everyone know he has FINALLY arrived and that we're all doing just fine--although I might say differently during one of those 4AM feedings.
Born exactly one week ago today on Monday, February 22, 2010 at 9:05PM which just so happened to be his due date. He was 7 pounds 7 ounces, 20 inches long, and the most adorable thing I have ever seen.
The actual labor story (a very long story) is yet to come--somewhere between 4AM feedings and the dozens of poopy diapers--but I wanted to be sure to at least let everyone know he has FINALLY arrived and that we're all doing just fine--although I might say differently during one of those 4AM feedings.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
So, Yeah...
Did I say I was heading into the OBGYN office with no expectations and a level head today? I'm pretty sure I lied. Although the new word is 4 centimeters. Contractions are becoming slightly stronger and the pelvic pressure is insane. I'm praying I don't have to go another 2 weeks like this.
I look and feel like an ape when I walk.
I look and feel like an ape when I walk.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A Few Points to Note
1) No, the gingerbread cake that was supposed to send me into labor on Sunday night did not work, although I probably should have asked just how much I was supposed to eat for the best results. I stopped at 2 slices once I noticed it was 390 calories per serving, but perhaps I was supposed to go all gung-ho and eat the whole thing?
2) The 24 urine test is complete, and has been since Monday morning, but for some reason I still feel like I'm cheating when I actually pee into a toilet bowl! I was so determined to not have to take the stupid test again that my entire Valentine's Day was spent concentrating on the test and not spilling ANYTHING. Every drop was precious. I think it's safe to say I went a little overboard. On the bright side, my urine tested negative for protein and my blood pressure is back down to where it's supposed to be, meaning this particular preeclampsia scare is over!
3) Jon and I went on a tour of the maternity wing of the hospital last night. I thought it would put my mind a little more at ease to know exactly where to go, what type of room I'll be in during and after delivery, and meet a few members of the staff who would be taking care of us. I do think it was beneficial, although I didn't realize I was, oh, 6 months behind the curve and the only woman out of 5 going on the tour who was even remotely close to her due date...let alone a week away! I was the only one who waddled. I was the only one fighting through contractions, however small. I was the only who had to worry about her water breaking in the hallway. It was kind of amusing. As silly and slow as I felt, and even though Jon and I have made enough late night trips to the OB Triage that we already knew where to go, I'm still glad we took the tour. It gave me the opportunity to create a clear picture of what my birthing experience will be like and what mine and the baby's surroundings will be for the few days afterward.
4) My next appointment with the midwife is tomorrow afternoon at which time I'll be checked for further dilation and progress. I'm playing it safe this time and reminding myself that many, many women go a week or more overdue and I can't let myself get upset if I'm still sitting steady at 3 centimeters. It's hard to find a comfortable position nowadays. I'm barely sleeping. My everything hurts and I want nothing more than to see my baby and spend hours deciding who he looks more like, but what I need to remember is it will all happen when it's time to happen and our whole experience will be that much better if we calmly let nature take its course. I think I can do that, but I'm not making any guarantees.
2) The 24 urine test is complete, and has been since Monday morning, but for some reason I still feel like I'm cheating when I actually pee into a toilet bowl! I was so determined to not have to take the stupid test again that my entire Valentine's Day was spent concentrating on the test and not spilling ANYTHING. Every drop was precious. I think it's safe to say I went a little overboard. On the bright side, my urine tested negative for protein and my blood pressure is back down to where it's supposed to be, meaning this particular preeclampsia scare is over!
3) Jon and I went on a tour of the maternity wing of the hospital last night. I thought it would put my mind a little more at ease to know exactly where to go, what type of room I'll be in during and after delivery, and meet a few members of the staff who would be taking care of us. I do think it was beneficial, although I didn't realize I was, oh, 6 months behind the curve and the only woman out of 5 going on the tour who was even remotely close to her due date...let alone a week away! I was the only one who waddled. I was the only one fighting through contractions, however small. I was the only who had to worry about her water breaking in the hallway. It was kind of amusing. As silly and slow as I felt, and even though Jon and I have made enough late night trips to the OB Triage that we already knew where to go, I'm still glad we took the tour. It gave me the opportunity to create a clear picture of what my birthing experience will be like and what mine and the baby's surroundings will be for the few days afterward.
4) My next appointment with the midwife is tomorrow afternoon at which time I'll be checked for further dilation and progress. I'm playing it safe this time and reminding myself that many, many women go a week or more overdue and I can't let myself get upset if I'm still sitting steady at 3 centimeters. It's hard to find a comfortable position nowadays. I'm barely sleeping. My everything hurts and I want nothing more than to see my baby and spend hours deciding who he looks more like, but what I need to remember is it will all happen when it's time to happen and our whole experience will be that much better if we calmly let nature take its course. I think I can do that, but I'm not making any guarantees.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Baby Steps
I'm beginning to think that one of the best perks to having girlfriends is having people to gently push you in the right direction, even if it means pushing you to face something you may be afraid of facing. My best friend, my husband, has a much more fierce, in your face, there's no time for crying! approach to getting me to come out of my safe cocoon, and while I give him kudos for doing what he has to do to get through to me, it also makes me appreciate the more subtle approach my girlfriends have been taking lately. For the last week, my friends have been very calmly but seemingly systematically reminding me that this blog of mine hasn't been updated for over a month! Their sweet, encouraging voices were repeatedly telling me they wanted to hear about my life, my pregnancy, and the crazy things I've been keeping bottled up inside my head. I could be wrong, but I also kind of got the impression that their sweet, encouraging voices were also saying I might go straight to hell if I didn't update soon, and I thought it best not to disappoint this particular group of women.
So what have I been up to while blatantly ignoring my blog? Well, I'm 9 months pregnant, official due date in t-minus 9 days, and because of many factors--my sheer size being one of them--it's kind of hard to think about anything else. This precious little life growing inside of me is getting closer and closer to being on the outside and I've been hell bent on making sure my husband and I are prepared for it, or at least as much as we can be. I'm not naive enough to think one could ever be so prepared that they could endure the amount of sleepless nights we probably have in our near future but we can at least make sure that we start off with all of the necessary baby supplies, good spirits, and a large amount of comfort food stocked in our cupboards.
My discomfort in this last month of pregnancy has been great, but fortunately, my excitement and anticipation in meeting the new little man in my life has been greater. The not knowing when he's coming has been the hardest part of all. I'm the type of person who lives by schedules and to-do lists and this baby has already shown us that his pending arrival is sure to break me of that habit. I like to think that he believes he's setting me free from my schedules and to-do lists and teaching me how to live spontaneously, but I'm probably just crazy.
I graduated to weekly appointments with my midwife on February 1st and I think it surprised us both to find that I was already dilated to 3 centimeters and 55% effaced at 37 weeks. I went in there expecting no change and received the fantastic surprise that my baby could be arriving early. But despite the fact that I just wrote "could be arriving early" I left the office that afternoon thinking he would definitely be arriving early, like--you know--that night, and I didn't have to wait another grueling 22 days to become a mommy! I know now that the past 2 weeks of my life would have been much more calm and relaxed had there been no change and I'd just kept on thinking there was no way this kid was coming before February 22nd. Let me just say that Jon and I have spent far too many hours since then counting possible contractions only to find the time had been wasted because they stopped after an hour each time. Braxton Hicks will probably be the death of me.
My last appointment was on Thursday, and I was so sure I would be dilated far enough for them to send me straight to the hospital that I had Jon install the car seat and toss my bags into the back of his SUV the night before. Obviously, the clothes in my bag are now quite chilly for no reason because that's not exactly how the appointment went. What actually happened was my blood pressure suddenly decided to reach an all time high of 140 and sent everyone in the office into a panic. Suddenly the swelling I've been experiencing in my hands, feet, and ankles didn't appear so innocent and, even though they've yet to find protein in my urine, my midwife became very concerned about preeclampsia. The appointment from that point on is a blur as they rushed to get me out of there fast enough to make it to the lab for more tests. As if the threat of preeclampsia wasn't bad enough, I was also given the news that I had made absolutely no progress and was still dilated to 3 centimeters. The only good news was the baby is measuring at 40 weeks so even if the tests come back positive I can be induced without worrying if he's ready. For now, I'm on house arrest tomorrow since I have to do a 24 hour urine collection starting tomorrow morning and ending Monday morning at which point I will be walking into the lab with a large, orange jug full of pee and they will once again stick me with needles and take more blood. Pregnancy sure is glamorous, eh?
I was livid when I left the OBGYN office on Thursday, mostly because things hadn't gone according to my plan, but also because everyone was in such a hurry to get me to the lab before it closed that Jon and I didn't have much time to ask questions for reassurance. I needed to be told everything was going to be okay, but after a few phone calls, I felt better about the whole visit. Although I must admit, I'm still none too happy about this peeing in a jug thing.
So, in a nutshell, what you've missed in the last month while I was busy pretending this blog didn't exist was actually what it looks like when a woman who is crazy in love with pregnancy finally reaches the end of her rope and wants her baby in her arms already. I'm not good at relinquishing control and it feels kind of silly to only now realize that that's exactly what I have to do while I wait, however impatiently, for my son to be born.
So what have I been up to while blatantly ignoring my blog? Well, I'm 9 months pregnant, official due date in t-minus 9 days, and because of many factors--my sheer size being one of them--it's kind of hard to think about anything else. This precious little life growing inside of me is getting closer and closer to being on the outside and I've been hell bent on making sure my husband and I are prepared for it, or at least as much as we can be. I'm not naive enough to think one could ever be so prepared that they could endure the amount of sleepless nights we probably have in our near future but we can at least make sure that we start off with all of the necessary baby supplies, good spirits, and a large amount of comfort food stocked in our cupboards.
My discomfort in this last month of pregnancy has been great, but fortunately, my excitement and anticipation in meeting the new little man in my life has been greater. The not knowing when he's coming has been the hardest part of all. I'm the type of person who lives by schedules and to-do lists and this baby has already shown us that his pending arrival is sure to break me of that habit. I like to think that he believes he's setting me free from my schedules and to-do lists and teaching me how to live spontaneously, but I'm probably just crazy.
I graduated to weekly appointments with my midwife on February 1st and I think it surprised us both to find that I was already dilated to 3 centimeters and 55% effaced at 37 weeks. I went in there expecting no change and received the fantastic surprise that my baby could be arriving early. But despite the fact that I just wrote "could be arriving early" I left the office that afternoon thinking he would definitely be arriving early, like--you know--that night, and I didn't have to wait another grueling 22 days to become a mommy! I know now that the past 2 weeks of my life would have been much more calm and relaxed had there been no change and I'd just kept on thinking there was no way this kid was coming before February 22nd. Let me just say that Jon and I have spent far too many hours since then counting possible contractions only to find the time had been wasted because they stopped after an hour each time. Braxton Hicks will probably be the death of me.
My last appointment was on Thursday, and I was so sure I would be dilated far enough for them to send me straight to the hospital that I had Jon install the car seat and toss my bags into the back of his SUV the night before. Obviously, the clothes in my bag are now quite chilly for no reason because that's not exactly how the appointment went. What actually happened was my blood pressure suddenly decided to reach an all time high of 140 and sent everyone in the office into a panic. Suddenly the swelling I've been experiencing in my hands, feet, and ankles didn't appear so innocent and, even though they've yet to find protein in my urine, my midwife became very concerned about preeclampsia. The appointment from that point on is a blur as they rushed to get me out of there fast enough to make it to the lab for more tests. As if the threat of preeclampsia wasn't bad enough, I was also given the news that I had made absolutely no progress and was still dilated to 3 centimeters. The only good news was the baby is measuring at 40 weeks so even if the tests come back positive I can be induced without worrying if he's ready. For now, I'm on house arrest tomorrow since I have to do a 24 hour urine collection starting tomorrow morning and ending Monday morning at which point I will be walking into the lab with a large, orange jug full of pee and they will once again stick me with needles and take more blood. Pregnancy sure is glamorous, eh?
I was livid when I left the OBGYN office on Thursday, mostly because things hadn't gone according to my plan, but also because everyone was in such a hurry to get me to the lab before it closed that Jon and I didn't have much time to ask questions for reassurance. I needed to be told everything was going to be okay, but after a few phone calls, I felt better about the whole visit. Although I must admit, I'm still none too happy about this peeing in a jug thing.
So, in a nutshell, what you've missed in the last month while I was busy pretending this blog didn't exist was actually what it looks like when a woman who is crazy in love with pregnancy finally reaches the end of her rope and wants her baby in her arms already. I'm not good at relinquishing control and it feels kind of silly to only now realize that that's exactly what I have to do while I wait, however impatiently, for my son to be born.
Friday, February 12, 2010
An Imaginary Conversation With My (Hopefully) Soon-to-Be-Born Son
Me: "So...I've discovered this foot hanging out near my rib cage, and I noticed that if I poke it--like this--you start wiggling like a little worm!"
Baby: "Damn it, woman! I'm out of room in here and I have no where else to put that foot, so stop it!"
Me: "Why don't you come out then?"
Baby: "It's too cold out there. I'm waiting for Spring."
Baby: "Damn it, woman! I'm out of room in here and I have no where else to put that foot, so stop it!"
Me: "Why don't you come out then?"
Baby: "It's too cold out there. I'm waiting for Spring."
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Ringing in the New Year
If I had to choose just one word to describe what the holidays were like in the Keenan household my word would be peaceful, and a peaceful holiday season was exactly what Jon and I were after when facing the reality that this would be our last Christmas and New Year celebration as simply Jon and Kate. I don't want that statement to be misconstrued at all, especially not if you think we're at all disappointed at the notion that this was our last holiday season as just the two of us. I think I speak for us both when I say that nothing is more exciting than the idea of having a new little person to celebrate with and that life--especially during the holidays--will be that much more exciting because of the addition. What I mean to say is, since we have met our final months as just husband and wife and soon take on the additional titles of father and mother, why not relish in it? Why not spend it doing exactly what we as a couple have gotten to enjoy so much in the near 11 years we've been together: enjoying each others company. So, we took a nice long nap together in the middle of Christmas Day, and we didn't throw a single party, although we attended many.
Now that the holidays are over my mind is centering more and more around the baby's arrival. It was almost as if the moment January 1st hit I realized we didn't even have a place for him to sleep. I remember that time, months ago, when I accused Jon of expecting the baby to sleep on a blanket in the corner because he didn't want to spend the money on the crib bedding I'd selected and here I was, a little over 2 months away from my due date, and the new bedding I fought so hard for was still tucked away neatly in plastic packaging. At least this setback was rectified Monday night when Jon put the crib together. At the very least, our baby has a place to sleep. But my mind is moving at 100 miles per hour making mental lists of the millions of things I've yet to do and the very little time I have to do it. I'm pretty sure this where I get to say...let the nesting begin.
Now that the holidays are over my mind is centering more and more around the baby's arrival. It was almost as if the moment January 1st hit I realized we didn't even have a place for him to sleep. I remember that time, months ago, when I accused Jon of expecting the baby to sleep on a blanket in the corner because he didn't want to spend the money on the crib bedding I'd selected and here I was, a little over 2 months away from my due date, and the new bedding I fought so hard for was still tucked away neatly in plastic packaging. At least this setback was rectified Monday night when Jon put the crib together. At the very least, our baby has a place to sleep. But my mind is moving at 100 miles per hour making mental lists of the millions of things I've yet to do and the very little time I have to do it. I'm pretty sure this where I get to say...let the nesting begin.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Looking Forward
I just finished reading four months of archives (November 2008 - March 2009) and I've come up empty handed on any 2009 New Year Resolutions. Turns out I didn't make any, or if I did, they were never written down. I have to say I was a little surprised at first, but when I started reading through those archives I realized I didn't really need to make any resolutions. In my mind I had already accomplished the inconceivable: I liked myself! And the only reason I ever made resolutions in the first place was to map out a way of coming to terms with who I was by the end of the next year, and hope beyond hope that I liked that person a little better than the person I was when I made the resolutions.
That being said, I couldn't have possibly prepared myself for the multiple speed bumps 2009 had in store for me. I had no way of knowing that I would lose my job, or that I would finally become pregnant, or that I would find a much better job with better people and better pay and a better commute just to live in fear of whether or not they would freak out when I finally admitted I was pregnant. I couldn't have known that I would fly in an airplane or see the lights of Las Vegas for the first time. I never would have guessed I'd come within 40 pounds of my goal weight...even if it was just in time to see it replaced by a 30 pound belly that kicks back whenever I poke it.
2009 has been quite a journey. It has included the highest ups and some the lowest downs of my life, but I wouldn't change it for the world.
I won't even pretend to know what I can do to better myself in 2010. I can't conceive how different life will be with a baby, but I do know one thing for sure: I want to be the best mommy I can be. I want to be the mother who is madly in love, attentive, interested, and active in her child's life. I can't promise to lose the baby weight, or start saving for college right away, or to keep the house immaculate at all times. All I can do is promise to do my best, and love this little miracle for all he's worth.
That being said, I couldn't have possibly prepared myself for the multiple speed bumps 2009 had in store for me. I had no way of knowing that I would lose my job, or that I would finally become pregnant, or that I would find a much better job with better people and better pay and a better commute just to live in fear of whether or not they would freak out when I finally admitted I was pregnant. I couldn't have known that I would fly in an airplane or see the lights of Las Vegas for the first time. I never would have guessed I'd come within 40 pounds of my goal weight...even if it was just in time to see it replaced by a 30 pound belly that kicks back whenever I poke it.
2009 has been quite a journey. It has included the highest ups and some the lowest downs of my life, but I wouldn't change it for the world.
I won't even pretend to know what I can do to better myself in 2010. I can't conceive how different life will be with a baby, but I do know one thing for sure: I want to be the best mommy I can be. I want to be the mother who is madly in love, attentive, interested, and active in her child's life. I can't promise to lose the baby weight, or start saving for college right away, or to keep the house immaculate at all times. All I can do is promise to do my best, and love this little miracle for all he's worth.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The Softer Side
Lab Tech: "When are you due?"
Kate: "February."
Lab Tech: "Do you know what you're having?"
Kate: "Yes. It's a boy."
Lab Tech: "Oh, how sweet! You're carrying him very well!"
I'm not entirely sure what "carrying him very well" means, but I could have kissed her.
Kate: "February."
Lab Tech: "Do you know what you're having?"
Kate: "Yes. It's a boy."
Lab Tech: "Oh, how sweet! You're carrying him very well!"
I'm not entirely sure what "carrying him very well" means, but I could have kissed her.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Creative Women Have Cobwebs in Their Corners
The first day of December in the year two thousand and nine has found me...
Extremely large, extremely round, and extremely happy.
With a husband who seems genuinely pleased to go out of his way to make everything easier on me.
Madly in love with the tiny baby growing inside of me.
With two very excitable, lovable, and cancer-free dogs.
With my first day as an official, full-time employee since June 30, 2009.
With all of my Christmas gifts bought and wrapped.
With a nursery painted the sweetest of blue and ready for furniture.
Reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and thinking Elizabeth Gilbert and I couldn't be more different, yet so alike.
More content than I've been all year despite it being one of the most hectic months on the calendar.
Very poor financially, but somehow very rich in life.
Extremely large, extremely round, and extremely happy.
With a husband who seems genuinely pleased to go out of his way to make everything easier on me.
Madly in love with the tiny baby growing inside of me.
With two very excitable, lovable, and cancer-free dogs.
With my first day as an official, full-time employee since June 30, 2009.
With all of my Christmas gifts bought and wrapped.
With a nursery painted the sweetest of blue and ready for furniture.
Reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and thinking Elizabeth Gilbert and I couldn't be more different, yet so alike.
More content than I've been all year despite it being one of the most hectic months on the calendar.
Very poor financially, but somehow very rich in life.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Thanksgivings
The last two weekends have found me in the same spot: on my living room couch watching re-runs of a show called "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" on The Learning Channel. Ignoring the fact that the last thing I should be doing during my own pregnancy is watching woman after woman giving birth to their babies on the cold, dingy floor of a fast food restaurant, this show has turned out to be one of those train wrecks that I can't look away from. And while the last 15 minutes of every episode has had me in tears, fearing for the life of a baby, I saw one episode last weekend that had me in tears, not just because the mother or baby could have died, but because that really could have been me.
This particular episode was about a women who was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) when she was 19 and she was told she would never be able to get pregnant. It was obviously hard for her to accept this diagnosis but her doctor was very firm in his decision and so she learned accept it. So, a few years later, when she started experiencing a lot of the common signs of pregnancy like weight gain, specific cravings, heartburn, and even movement in her abdomen she didn't think anything of it. Her and her husband even went so far as to jokingly refer to the movement in her abdomen (which she believed was just gas) as the alien in her belly. And when she began to experience excruciating pain in back she went to the hospital, but because her doctor said she would never be able to get pregnant they tested for everything but pregnancy and sent her home thinking she was simply constipated. Hence, the reason she ended up giving birth to her little girl in her master bathroom toilet.
Witnessing her story made me realize just how thankful I should be for my OB GYN who did not use the word "never" when she diagnosed me with PCOS. Instead, she told me it would be hard, it would take a lot of work and patience, I would have to lose weight and become a healthier person, but she put a lot of emphasis into the words "not impossible." It was not impossible for me to get pregnant, it was just going to take me a lot longer than most women.
The last 3 years would have been much more heart-wrenching, cold, and shocking had she told me it would never happen.
So, this passed Thanksgiving I had a lot to be thankful for: not just my family and friends, but the miracle that has been growing inside of me for the last 7 months and a very smart and dedicated obstetrician who put a lot of effort into telling me not to give up, that with the right resources and outlook I could reverse the side-effects of PCOS and my miracle could happen.
This particular episode was about a women who was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) when she was 19 and she was told she would never be able to get pregnant. It was obviously hard for her to accept this diagnosis but her doctor was very firm in his decision and so she learned accept it. So, a few years later, when she started experiencing a lot of the common signs of pregnancy like weight gain, specific cravings, heartburn, and even movement in her abdomen she didn't think anything of it. Her and her husband even went so far as to jokingly refer to the movement in her abdomen (which she believed was just gas) as the alien in her belly. And when she began to experience excruciating pain in back she went to the hospital, but because her doctor said she would never be able to get pregnant they tested for everything but pregnancy and sent her home thinking she was simply constipated. Hence, the reason she ended up giving birth to her little girl in her master bathroom toilet.
Witnessing her story made me realize just how thankful I should be for my OB GYN who did not use the word "never" when she diagnosed me with PCOS. Instead, she told me it would be hard, it would take a lot of work and patience, I would have to lose weight and become a healthier person, but she put a lot of emphasis into the words "not impossible." It was not impossible for me to get pregnant, it was just going to take me a lot longer than most women.
The last 3 years would have been much more heart-wrenching, cold, and shocking had she told me it would never happen.
So, this passed Thanksgiving I had a lot to be thankful for: not just my family and friends, but the miracle that has been growing inside of me for the last 7 months and a very smart and dedicated obstetrician who put a lot of effort into telling me not to give up, that with the right resources and outlook I could reverse the side-effects of PCOS and my miracle could happen.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Things You Shouldn't Say to Your Pregnant Wife, Part 1
Jon: "I need to take a night off from working in that room. I don't even want to set foot in there."
Kate: "I'm just going in there to pick up the tarps and clean up any paint you may have gotten on the floor."
Jon: "Really? You can do that?"
Kate: "What do you mean?"
Jon: "You can bend over?"
Kate: "Umm, yeah. Why wouldn't I be able to?"
Jon: "Well, you're kind of top heavy right now. You might fall over."
Kate: "I'm just going in there to pick up the tarps and clean up any paint you may have gotten on the floor."
Jon: "Really? You can do that?"
Kate: "What do you mean?"
Jon: "You can bend over?"
Kate: "Umm, yeah. Why wouldn't I be able to?"
Jon: "Well, you're kind of top heavy right now. You might fall over."
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Top 10 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Pregnancy
1. Morning sickness doesn't always include the relief of vomiting.
I was actually sitting in a booth at Applebee's, staring down a plate of french fries and a Fire Pit Bacon Burger with two bites taken out of it when I realized I needed to take a pregnancy test. The few weeks leading up to that moment were packed with tell-tale signs that my period was coming any day--irritability, extremely sore breasts, constant fatigue--but my barely touched plate of food made me realize there was one other symptom I hadn't acknowledged: I was becoming undeniably nauseous every time I ate. It didn't matter what I was eating or when I was eating it, it was making me sick, only I could never find reprieve from the nausea because I never had the overwhelming urge to vomit. I was just in a constant state of nausea for 13 weeks.
2. My dogs would know I was pregnant.
On the one hand it was very sweet to wake up in the middle of the night at 8 weeks pregnant and find Jack sleeping with his ear up against my belly as if he could hear the baby's heartbeat before any of us, or the way Macy always positions herself over my abdomen whenever there's too much rough housing going on between Jon and Jack or when there's a particularly loud argument brewing. On the other hand it's not so sweet having two dogs on a constant state of alert, watching my every move, and following my every foot step. It's almost as though they feel a sense of responsibility to make sure the baby and I are safe at all times. You're probably wondering what's so wrong with that? All I can say is it's kind of hard to concentrate when there are two dogs pacing, worrying, and sometimes even crying on the other side of the bathroom door because you might be in danger while you're "taking care of business" and they can't help you because you closed the stupid door. They also seem to find it very hard to sleep around me and I'm such a light sleeper that the slightest movement or click of nails on the hardwood will keep me awake for a very long time.
3. Not everyone acquires a glowing complexion.
I've been told countless times by friends, family members, and total strangers who like to chat it up with pregnant women in the grocery aisles that their hair, skin, and nails were never more luscious than when they were pregnant, and I have the hardest time not clawing their eyes out. My hair and nails are unbelievably shiny and strong and they grow like weeds, but my skin is a whole different story. My skin has reverted back to my teenage years. I have acne like you wouldn't believe. It runs all along my jaw line, down my neck, and across my chest with lone soldiers taking up sporadic residence on my nose, cheeks, and forehead. Prior to becoming pregnant, the last time I wore concealer was on my wedding day for extra coverage against the camera, but I wear it on an almost daily basis now or else I'd look like I let myself go in a really horrible way.
4. Psychotic tendencies a.k.a Niagara Falls times 300!
Of course I knew that pregnant women had a tendency to be irritable--who wouldn't when the size of your abdomen grows a little closer to that of a house every morning? What I didn't realize was it's not just irritability, there are some seriously strong emotions that run through me at every single moment. Some days I feel like a really big nerve ending that keeps getting poked at for the hell of it. I know no one is doing it on purpose. Hell, I even know it's all in my head usually, but that's never enough to make me stop crying. And some days, oh yeah, some days I don't even need a reason to sit on the couch and cry quietly. I'm overly emotional as it is but these hormones really take it to a whole other dimension.
5. Your taste buds experience an identity crisis.
My food goal during the first 13 weeks was to just find food that didn't make me feel terrible. I didn't worry about nutrition so much as fighting off the nausea, but I always figured I'd go back to my old, healthy eating habits once I got through the first trimester. It turns out I was wrong. It turns out that the last year I've spent developing healthy eating habits to lose weight and lead by example to my child can go away with the flip of a switch, or so it seems. Even though I don't get nauseous anymore, most of the foods I've been eating for the last year do not appeal to me in the slightest. I hate that I followed a much healthier diet before getting pregnant than I am now, even though it's so much more important now than it ever was. I'm finally getting to the point now that I'm able to force it again. I used to like carrots and broccoli. I eat them for the baby now, not because I actually want them, ever.
6. The thought: "Someone has to be the 1 in 250, so it's probably me!" never goes away.
I never realized how scary pregnancy was, how easy it was to convince myself that my life may end if my baby doesn't make it. It's amazing how quickly and completely you become attached to this little life inside you, and how paralyzing it can be when you realize how many things can go wrong. I've calmed down quite a bit especially now that I can feel the baby move, but those first few months were maddening. Not that I have to say anything about it in this blog because there are a dozen others in the last 4 months that are proof of how scared I was and sometimes still am. Like I said, I'm much calmer now that I can feel the baby move but the fears never really go away completely. I lay awake some nights thinking: what if I pushed myself too hard today? what if the cord is wrapped around his neck? what if he arrives premature? what if they missed something in the screening? what about SIDS? What I've come to realize is this is probably never going to go away. Even if, God willing, we make it through the delivery and infancy and toddler hood just fine, then I get to wonder about things like: what if he doesn't fit in? what if he loses control of the car? what if he never comes home? what if? what if? what if?
7. It's not just delivery that hurts.
This should probably be number one. This is the whole reason I started a list in the first place, but whatever. I've read/skimmed a dozen or so pregnancy books thus far and very, very few mention round ligament pains. My mother had 6 kids, my older sister had 4, and my younger sister has had 1, but not a single one of them mentioned round ligament pains. For those who have never been pregnant, round ligament pains are brief, sharp, stabbing pains, or a longer-lasting dull ache in your lower abdomen. It's caused by ligaments stretching to support your growing uterus. It makes absolute perfect sense once you've read into it, but believe me when I tell you that there is nothing scarier than simply turning over in bed too quickly and feeling like your abdomen has just been sliced open, even if it does only last for a few seconds. Or that time when I bent over to pick up a towel, stood up too fast, and fell right to my knees because it felt like my legs had just torn away from my body? How can something so painful and so scary not be printed in bold text in every single pregnancy book out there? I don't know, maybe I just have a severe case, but still. If you promise to tell me everything about pregnancy make sure you include the stuff that might make me think my baby has just died a horrific death but is really just typical growing pains. On the bright side, now I know why pregnant women move so slow; it's not because they're so much larger, but because it hurts too damn bad to go any faster.
8. You don't have to wait 9 months before the baby starts keeping you awake at night.
First and foremost I just want to say this is not at all a complaint. I wait for, enjoy, and relish in every single nudge, kick, or tiny little movement I get from my baby, but I never realized he would have a sleep and wake schedule before he was born and I especially never thought his schedule would begin and end at completely different times than mine. This baby wakes me up at 4:30 in the morning every morning. It's like clockwork. Even though I'm sound asleep, not moving, and even though it's pitch black inside and out, he begins kicking and stretching and my belly starts bumping my arms or Jack's head and it's...it's...well, it's hilarious! And who can sleep when something so miraculous and entertaining is taking place in your own body? Like I said, it's not a complaint, more like, why did I not know this?
9. Everyone has an opinion about your size.
In the span of a month I've been told everything from "You don't even look pregnant!" to "Are you sure there aren't twins in there?!" but the most common is just a simple "You're HUGE!" I let it upset me at first, but I very quickly learned that no one means any harm, they just aren't really thinking before they speak. I mean, c'mon, how many 26 week pregnant women who haven't seen their feet in what feels like forever are going to believe they don't look pregnant? My immediate thought was if I don't look pregnant then I must look a very strange sort of fat! And then the others who acted as though I was so massive the sheer force of my breath alone was enough to knock them over were really just making conversation, albeit in a very strange, borderline insulting way. I also noticed a trend pretty quickly: everyone who knew me before I lost 70 pounds thought I was running on the small side, and everyone who met me after the 70 pound loss thought I was gigantic. It makes sense when I look at it that way, but I don't know that it really gives people the excuse to talk to me/about me the way they do sometimes. No matter what, from this moment forward, I will always think twice before commenting on a pregnant woman's size. Wait. Scratch that. I will just never comment on a pregnant woman's size. I'm sticking with, "Wow. You look positively radiant."
10. Never ever ever use Google to self diagnose!
I never mentioned it here, but at my 20 week appointment our midwife discovered I have placenta previa which means I have a low lying placenta and it's covering my cervix. It's a condition that usually corrects itself by delivery, but in the rare case that it doesn't I will have no choice but to have a c-section. Attempting a vaginal birth with placenta previa risks birthing the placenta first which would cause massive amounts of blood loss and possibly death to both the baby and myself. Women with placenta previa are also more likely to experience hemorrhaging or to go into pre-term labor. It's obviously not a diagnosis to take lightly, but when I asked the midwife whether or not I should be worried she very specifically said, "Not yet. We'll do another ultrasound at 28 weeks and it should have corrected itself by then. If it hasn't, then we'll go from there, but we're not going to worry. Not yet." But did I listen to her? Of course not! The first thing I did after arriving home was Google "placenta previa" and read every single horror story about women hemorrhaging on their kitchen floors and giving birth to their baby at only 26 weeks. I read about so many women who went into pre-term labor and lost their babies that I had myself convinced the same thing would happen to me. Just when I'd finally reached a time in my pregnancy when I didn't feel fragile, when I was sure it was all going to work out for us, I was diagnosed with something that I was convinced was a death sentence for both me and the baby. I cried for a week. Jon banned me from searching anything pregnancy related on the internet and immediately advises me to call the midwives 24-hour help line whenever I have the urge to Google a strange symptom. The internet is a fabulous, helpful thing but I've learned that it's mostly women with the saddest, most heart-wrenching stories who post on pregnancy boards and I had to learn that the hard way, unfortunately.
I was actually sitting in a booth at Applebee's, staring down a plate of french fries and a Fire Pit Bacon Burger with two bites taken out of it when I realized I needed to take a pregnancy test. The few weeks leading up to that moment were packed with tell-tale signs that my period was coming any day--irritability, extremely sore breasts, constant fatigue--but my barely touched plate of food made me realize there was one other symptom I hadn't acknowledged: I was becoming undeniably nauseous every time I ate. It didn't matter what I was eating or when I was eating it, it was making me sick, only I could never find reprieve from the nausea because I never had the overwhelming urge to vomit. I was just in a constant state of nausea for 13 weeks.
2. My dogs would know I was pregnant.
On the one hand it was very sweet to wake up in the middle of the night at 8 weeks pregnant and find Jack sleeping with his ear up against my belly as if he could hear the baby's heartbeat before any of us, or the way Macy always positions herself over my abdomen whenever there's too much rough housing going on between Jon and Jack or when there's a particularly loud argument brewing. On the other hand it's not so sweet having two dogs on a constant state of alert, watching my every move, and following my every foot step. It's almost as though they feel a sense of responsibility to make sure the baby and I are safe at all times. You're probably wondering what's so wrong with that? All I can say is it's kind of hard to concentrate when there are two dogs pacing, worrying, and sometimes even crying on the other side of the bathroom door because you might be in danger while you're "taking care of business" and they can't help you because you closed the stupid door. They also seem to find it very hard to sleep around me and I'm such a light sleeper that the slightest movement or click of nails on the hardwood will keep me awake for a very long time.
3. Not everyone acquires a glowing complexion.
I've been told countless times by friends, family members, and total strangers who like to chat it up with pregnant women in the grocery aisles that their hair, skin, and nails were never more luscious than when they were pregnant, and I have the hardest time not clawing their eyes out. My hair and nails are unbelievably shiny and strong and they grow like weeds, but my skin is a whole different story. My skin has reverted back to my teenage years. I have acne like you wouldn't believe. It runs all along my jaw line, down my neck, and across my chest with lone soldiers taking up sporadic residence on my nose, cheeks, and forehead. Prior to becoming pregnant, the last time I wore concealer was on my wedding day for extra coverage against the camera, but I wear it on an almost daily basis now or else I'd look like I let myself go in a really horrible way.
4. Psychotic tendencies a.k.a Niagara Falls times 300!
Of course I knew that pregnant women had a tendency to be irritable--who wouldn't when the size of your abdomen grows a little closer to that of a house every morning? What I didn't realize was it's not just irritability, there are some seriously strong emotions that run through me at every single moment. Some days I feel like a really big nerve ending that keeps getting poked at for the hell of it. I know no one is doing it on purpose. Hell, I even know it's all in my head usually, but that's never enough to make me stop crying. And some days, oh yeah, some days I don't even need a reason to sit on the couch and cry quietly. I'm overly emotional as it is but these hormones really take it to a whole other dimension.
5. Your taste buds experience an identity crisis.
My food goal during the first 13 weeks was to just find food that didn't make me feel terrible. I didn't worry about nutrition so much as fighting off the nausea, but I always figured I'd go back to my old, healthy eating habits once I got through the first trimester. It turns out I was wrong. It turns out that the last year I've spent developing healthy eating habits to lose weight and lead by example to my child can go away with the flip of a switch, or so it seems. Even though I don't get nauseous anymore, most of the foods I've been eating for the last year do not appeal to me in the slightest. I hate that I followed a much healthier diet before getting pregnant than I am now, even though it's so much more important now than it ever was. I'm finally getting to the point now that I'm able to force it again. I used to like carrots and broccoli. I eat them for the baby now, not because I actually want them, ever.
6. The thought: "Someone has to be the 1 in 250, so it's probably me!" never goes away.
I never realized how scary pregnancy was, how easy it was to convince myself that my life may end if my baby doesn't make it. It's amazing how quickly and completely you become attached to this little life inside you, and how paralyzing it can be when you realize how many things can go wrong. I've calmed down quite a bit especially now that I can feel the baby move, but those first few months were maddening. Not that I have to say anything about it in this blog because there are a dozen others in the last 4 months that are proof of how scared I was and sometimes still am. Like I said, I'm much calmer now that I can feel the baby move but the fears never really go away completely. I lay awake some nights thinking: what if I pushed myself too hard today? what if the cord is wrapped around his neck? what if he arrives premature? what if they missed something in the screening? what about SIDS? What I've come to realize is this is probably never going to go away. Even if, God willing, we make it through the delivery and infancy and toddler hood just fine, then I get to wonder about things like: what if he doesn't fit in? what if he loses control of the car? what if he never comes home? what if? what if? what if?
7. It's not just delivery that hurts.
This should probably be number one. This is the whole reason I started a list in the first place, but whatever. I've read/skimmed a dozen or so pregnancy books thus far and very, very few mention round ligament pains. My mother had 6 kids, my older sister had 4, and my younger sister has had 1, but not a single one of them mentioned round ligament pains. For those who have never been pregnant, round ligament pains are brief, sharp, stabbing pains, or a longer-lasting dull ache in your lower abdomen. It's caused by ligaments stretching to support your growing uterus. It makes absolute perfect sense once you've read into it, but believe me when I tell you that there is nothing scarier than simply turning over in bed too quickly and feeling like your abdomen has just been sliced open, even if it does only last for a few seconds. Or that time when I bent over to pick up a towel, stood up too fast, and fell right to my knees because it felt like my legs had just torn away from my body? How can something so painful and so scary not be printed in bold text in every single pregnancy book out there? I don't know, maybe I just have a severe case, but still. If you promise to tell me everything about pregnancy make sure you include the stuff that might make me think my baby has just died a horrific death but is really just typical growing pains. On the bright side, now I know why pregnant women move so slow; it's not because they're so much larger, but because it hurts too damn bad to go any faster.
8. You don't have to wait 9 months before the baby starts keeping you awake at night.
First and foremost I just want to say this is not at all a complaint. I wait for, enjoy, and relish in every single nudge, kick, or tiny little movement I get from my baby, but I never realized he would have a sleep and wake schedule before he was born and I especially never thought his schedule would begin and end at completely different times than mine. This baby wakes me up at 4:30 in the morning every morning. It's like clockwork. Even though I'm sound asleep, not moving, and even though it's pitch black inside and out, he begins kicking and stretching and my belly starts bumping my arms or Jack's head and it's...it's...well, it's hilarious! And who can sleep when something so miraculous and entertaining is taking place in your own body? Like I said, it's not a complaint, more like, why did I not know this?
9. Everyone has an opinion about your size.
In the span of a month I've been told everything from "You don't even look pregnant!" to "Are you sure there aren't twins in there?!" but the most common is just a simple "You're HUGE!" I let it upset me at first, but I very quickly learned that no one means any harm, they just aren't really thinking before they speak. I mean, c'mon, how many 26 week pregnant women who haven't seen their feet in what feels like forever are going to believe they don't look pregnant? My immediate thought was if I don't look pregnant then I must look a very strange sort of fat! And then the others who acted as though I was so massive the sheer force of my breath alone was enough to knock them over were really just making conversation, albeit in a very strange, borderline insulting way. I also noticed a trend pretty quickly: everyone who knew me before I lost 70 pounds thought I was running on the small side, and everyone who met me after the 70 pound loss thought I was gigantic. It makes sense when I look at it that way, but I don't know that it really gives people the excuse to talk to me/about me the way they do sometimes. No matter what, from this moment forward, I will always think twice before commenting on a pregnant woman's size. Wait. Scratch that. I will just never comment on a pregnant woman's size. I'm sticking with, "Wow. You look positively radiant."
10. Never ever ever use Google to self diagnose!
I never mentioned it here, but at my 20 week appointment our midwife discovered I have placenta previa which means I have a low lying placenta and it's covering my cervix. It's a condition that usually corrects itself by delivery, but in the rare case that it doesn't I will have no choice but to have a c-section. Attempting a vaginal birth with placenta previa risks birthing the placenta first which would cause massive amounts of blood loss and possibly death to both the baby and myself. Women with placenta previa are also more likely to experience hemorrhaging or to go into pre-term labor. It's obviously not a diagnosis to take lightly, but when I asked the midwife whether or not I should be worried she very specifically said, "Not yet. We'll do another ultrasound at 28 weeks and it should have corrected itself by then. If it hasn't, then we'll go from there, but we're not going to worry. Not yet." But did I listen to her? Of course not! The first thing I did after arriving home was Google "placenta previa" and read every single horror story about women hemorrhaging on their kitchen floors and giving birth to their baby at only 26 weeks. I read about so many women who went into pre-term labor and lost their babies that I had myself convinced the same thing would happen to me. Just when I'd finally reached a time in my pregnancy when I didn't feel fragile, when I was sure it was all going to work out for us, I was diagnosed with something that I was convinced was a death sentence for both me and the baby. I cried for a week. Jon banned me from searching anything pregnancy related on the internet and immediately advises me to call the midwives 24-hour help line whenever I have the urge to Google a strange symptom. The internet is a fabulous, helpful thing but I've learned that it's mostly women with the saddest, most heart-wrenching stories who post on pregnancy boards and I had to learn that the hard way, unfortunately.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Team Work
Jon went grocery shopping on his own last night. I can count on well, two fingers, the number of times he's done that. You see, my husband is a very kind and giving man, but he is far from observant. He will gladly give you the shirt off his back but you have to tell him that you're cold and naked first. In other words, he's not likely to notice that we've run out of orange juice, or that we're down to the last roll of toilet paper until it's too late. For this reason the grocery shopping has always been left up to me, and I'm okay with that, usually. We've run into some problems with my pregnancy, however, in that our house was not built for bringing home groceries. Our garage is located below the main floor and all boxes and bags have to be carried up a full flight of stairs before finding their way to the kitchen, so if I'm shopping and unloading on my own I usually run into the problem of either a) carrying too much at one time and risk hurting myself or the baby, or b) taking so many trips up and down the stairs that I tire myself out very quickly. So in the last few months it's become apparent that I need Jon there to help me, to get the heavy items in and out of the cart at the store, and to lug them all up to the kitchen once at home.
The plan for last night was pretty simple: I'd be armed and ready with a grocery list by the time he arrived home from work and we'd hit the store together, but it didn't quite work out that way. I made out a quick, not quite complete list and then accidentally passed out on the couch. By the time he got home at 8:30 I was in no condition to do anything but make my way to bed. Just before I closed my eyes, I remember thinking how annoyed he was going to be when he came home and found me sound asleep, and I remember mentally kicking myself for being so damn tired because if ever we needed more food or supplies in our house it was yesterday, but I couldn't help myself, and I was sleeping heavily before I knew it.
Fortunately, Jon wasn't annoyed at all by my inability to stay awake. He was actually apologetic for getting home nearly an hour later than he'd planned, but to my surprise, he was perfectly willing to take the grocery list I'd made and head out to the store on his own.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't have been more thankful. And the best part? He even remembered the green tea I forgot to include on the list.
Like I said, my husband is a very kind and giving man, but he was out of his element when he stepped into that grocery store without me last night, and he did it anyway because he's suddenly become very sympathetic to my pregnant condition. And on an unrelated, but equally swoon-worthy note, he's agreed to go see New Moon with me since everyone else I know is going to a midnight showing.
I had my doubts in the beginning as to whether or not he and I would be able to survive this pregnancy together, but he's proving me wrong in many subtle, but powerful ways.
The plan for last night was pretty simple: I'd be armed and ready with a grocery list by the time he arrived home from work and we'd hit the store together, but it didn't quite work out that way. I made out a quick, not quite complete list and then accidentally passed out on the couch. By the time he got home at 8:30 I was in no condition to do anything but make my way to bed. Just before I closed my eyes, I remember thinking how annoyed he was going to be when he came home and found me sound asleep, and I remember mentally kicking myself for being so damn tired because if ever we needed more food or supplies in our house it was yesterday, but I couldn't help myself, and I was sleeping heavily before I knew it.
Fortunately, Jon wasn't annoyed at all by my inability to stay awake. He was actually apologetic for getting home nearly an hour later than he'd planned, but to my surprise, he was perfectly willing to take the grocery list I'd made and head out to the store on his own.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't have been more thankful. And the best part? He even remembered the green tea I forgot to include on the list.
Like I said, my husband is a very kind and giving man, but he was out of his element when he stepped into that grocery store without me last night, and he did it anyway because he's suddenly become very sympathetic to my pregnant condition. And on an unrelated, but equally swoon-worthy note, he's agreed to go see New Moon with me since everyone else I know is going to a midnight showing.
I had my doubts in the beginning as to whether or not he and I would be able to survive this pregnancy together, but he's proving me wrong in many subtle, but powerful ways.
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