Category Archives: Pregnancy

What They Didn’t Tell Me

What I should have known about how I would look and feel after I’ve had a kid… or two.

All the reading I did.  All those people I talked to.  Every scrap of information I found online, in a book, in a conversation, and just through life experiences helped prepare me a lot for pregnancy, childbirth, and what comes after.

But it wasn’t the whole picture!

The top 5 things I wish I’d known before I got smacked in the face with reality

#1 My Weight and Shape

Oh, sure, everyone said to say good-bye to my waist, hips, and the numbers on the scale.  And I did.  In fact, I vividly recall a shower shortly after I learned I was pregnant with the Angel where I bid a fond farewell to my flat abdomen.  Of all the weight fluctuations I’ve had since puberty began, it was my butt and thighs that suffered while my abs always stayed flat.

I got pregnant, the belly went out; I had a c-section, the belly went in.

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Pregnant with the Angel

In fact, at my daughter’s first birthday party, I weighed LESS than when I had gotten pregnant.  No, this isn’t the average, but that’s what happened to me.  Big house, small child, breastfeeding, water-drinking, and eating a mainly whole-foods diet led my body into great health.

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At the Angel’s first birthday party– bad posture and outlandish gestures are my norm.

The same thing happened the second time:  I got pregnant, the belly went out, the baby came out, and the belly went back in.

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Pregnant with the Rover

Here I am at 6 months-ish postpartum and I weigh what I did when I graduated high school…with my flat abs.  Part of me is super excited about this while part of me thinks it is just damned odd.

Chalk another one up to the mysteries of genetics!

Ok, forget about the numbers on the scale.  Look a bit past the flat abs.  What do you see?  What I see is something all-together new and, in some ways, improved.  In other ways, not so much.

The clothing I bought when I was this weight BEFORE getting pregnant and having kids still DOES NOT FIT.  The jeans can’t make it over the hips, the shoes are too small, the shirts are too tight.  All in all…

I AM SHAPED DIFFERENTLY!

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The family after Mass in April ’16.

Sure,  I was warned about the weight.  It seems like that was all that was focused on though.  Silly Americans.  It isn’t that I weigh differently (I don’t); it is that I am shaped differently.  My hips are wider, my feet are longer (I’m not making that up), and my shoulders are broader.  I have no idea if I’m taller or not but I can definitely tell you my chest is WAY DIFFERENT.

Moving on…

#2 My hair

You’ll hear most any mother talk about how shiny and thick her hair was during pregnancy.  She’ll talk about the wonders of hormones and prenatal vitamins, how luxurious her locks felt and how they seemed to grow an inch every night.  That isn’t much of an exaggeration, really.

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There is so much hair!

You’ll also hear a lot of mothers talk about how frizzy and brittle their hair became afterwards.  I’ve even read where many women experience the growth of new hair all over (I’m raising my hand here because I’m one of these women).

NO ONE MENTIONED THE HAIR LOSS!

Seriously, it comes out in clumps.  Every time I run a brush through it or wash it, large amounts of my hair just shed away.  Since I have hair almost to my waist, and my hair is naturally very thick and kinda frizzy, it is SUPER OBVIOUS when I lose some.  Not, like, on my head it is obvious.  But the big-ass tumbleweeds of hair everywhere in my house and car are hard to miss.

My head doesn’t look like it is suffering from hair loss, thank God.  I just want others to know that around Postpartum Month 4 or Month 6, the hair will begin to SHED.

NO ONE MENTIONED THE HAIR CHANGES, EITHER!

So, yeah, I mentioned the new hair growth.  I have all these wiry hairs on my head that are 3 to 6 inches long and have absolutely no chance of laying down.  Even with excessive flat-ironing and product usage (even oil!), they just spring up everywhere.

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Frizz and fluff and stuff

Speaking of new hair and everywhere… yeah.  Let’s just say I wasn’t warned about that.  I’m a natural blonde, people.  I used to go ages without shaving my legs (or anything else).  Now, that is not an option.  Seriously, the hair on my thighs is now coming in dark brown.  And the armpits. And, yeah, I’m done writing this section.

#3 Mommy Brain

This isn’t a joke, people.  This isn’t something we can chuckle about.  This is freaking real.  You get pregnant, you lose your mind.  I’m not talking about hormones.  I’m talking a legitimate rewiring of your brain.

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A text from a (male!) friend.

While pregnant, my vocabulary checked out.  After months of no substantial sleep, certain other faculties have disappeared as well.  After a second pregnancy and having an infant as well as a toddler?  You can forget the Me you knew Before:  that witty, funny young woman with an advanced education and bright views of the real world.

I don’t even know what the real world looks like anymore.

But I can quote Pixar movies like a pro!

Back on track here:  it isn’t just what you’re exposed to being so different (kids’ movies, baby food labels, articles about the latest and greatest in the world of car seats); it is how you process everything.  Sure, the hormones do their fair share of damage.  But you really do start to forget important things, like dentist appointments and plans you made with friends, and you start to lose words as well as your keys and wallet, and you can’t quite place how you know that person but you know you know him.

#4 The Isolation

I knew I’d “lose” friends going down this procreating path.  I knew that my forever-single-and-fabulous friends would become footnotes and sidebars in this chapter of my life.  I figured the childless ones probably wouldn’t have much in common with me anymore.

Well, yes and no.

Although that did seem to happen, I still am close to some of those single/childless friends.  Not all of them found it irritating when all I can seem to talk about is breastfeeding and laundry and bodily functions (mine and the kids’).

I am talking less about losing friends (and I’ve found a few new ones, don’t get me wrong) and more about the numbing isolation of being a stay at home parent.

I love my children.  I was recently accused of making my life sound like “torture.”  It isn’t that.  You know it isn’t that.

It is how I feel alone in my failures.  How I feel alone in my struggle to get my kids up, out the door, through a store, and home again without a meltdown.  How I feel alone in some of my joys and a lot of my complaints.

Is this societal pressure?  Is it what I believe others’ expectations are?  Is it too much glamor and ease of motherhood displayed on social media?  Is it a begrudging view of the BHE’s life and schedule?

I am not alone.  I sometimes feel lonely.  I mostly feel isolated, though.  I wish I knew a better way to put it. But maybe that is my next point…

#5 My worst enemy

Yep.  That’s me.  I’m my own worst enemy.

I had all these visions of what kind of mother and wife I would be.  I had all these daydreams of what my life would be like with children.  I didn’t plan on being a stay-at-home mom until I became one.  There are so many things I said I would or wouldn’t do, and I feel like a failure when I go back on them.

I also had plenty of visions of what kind of mother I wouldn’t be.  Too often in my life, I had examples of how not to parent.  Between reading the news and working at a rural library, I could see some terrible things.  I also had a piss-poor role model in my own mother.  Those were things I swore I’d never do.

It is so easy to say that shit before it hits.  The reality is this:  sleep deprivation on top of the anxiety you feel when it comes to your children’s well-being is a terrible combination for sticking to your candy-coated dreams from pre-pregnancy.

I swore I would never drink pop while pregnant.  We all know that processed crap is terrible for our teeth, our bodies, our minds… but it tastes so good!  What harm can one fountain Coke from McDonald’s do?!  After all, it is going through me first; it isn’t like I’m giving my unborn child that whole 20 oz of corn syrup and cancer-stimulator.

I promised my beautiful, leather-interior vehicle I’d never give food or drink to a child while they were riding in it.  WOOP!  Out the window!

I wasn’t going to ever say a curse word in front of my children.  They have minds like clay and sponges, to absorb what I’m saying and doing in a way that’ll shape what they say and do.  Yeah, guess what… fuck that.

I would never, ever hit a child.  Never!  How could anyone ever possibly conceive of span—

Well, shit.

Yeah, I’ve read all about how we’re not supposed to yell at our kids, how we should never spank, how the worst thing you could ever do to your child is show them violence and anger.

Let me make this very clear to you:  PARENTING. IS. HARD.

You make mistakes.  I bet I can point out to you at least one mistake per day that I’ve made ever since I found out I was pregnant with the Angel.  I bet I can easily find double that in every day since I gave birth to the Rover.  What I can’t tell you is how to best cope with the mistakes you make.

I can say, though, that I’m my own worst enemy.  I carry the guilt of each spank, of every harsh word (the way her face crumples when I use the Mean Mommy voice), of every time I left a print on my sweet daughter.

And although she loves and forgives me instantly, chalk that up to another thing no one told me:  it is so much harder to forgive yourself.

Parenting is hard.  All those things you swore you wouldn’t do?  You’re not a bad person if you do them.  Just remember that tomorrow is another day, children are as forgiving as Christ, and YOU need to work on YOU to handle it better next time.

This is where I loop back to #4:

As much as it helps ease the burden by sharing it with others that might commiserate with you, you may think you can’t share your story for fear of being judged.  Or of being told you’re as horrible of a person you think you are.  Or of having your children taken away.

It is isolating to think you cannot speak to anyone of what you’ve said or done.  Whether you just don’t want to hear it (yeah, yeah, yeah, I KNOW I shouldn’t drink that pop) or you think you’re a monster (those damning fingerprints that faded after three agonizing minutes), you feel completely alone in your troubles as a parent when you don’t share your burden.

Introspection:  I guess that’s why I’m writing this blog.  Sure, the hair loss is annoying and the pants not fitting just means another chunk out of the bank account.  But the “true confession” of this post is that I don’t have all my shit together and I have screamed the F word in front of my children.  I don’t have it all together!  And GOD FORBID I admit that, so I must remain isolated in my failures… and post another super-cute picture of my children on Instagram.

You are not alone

As creepy as THAT header sounds, it is true.  I am not the only one who is losing great chunks of hair (when I bother to brush or wash it).  I am not the only one who suddenly has much more to tweeze, pluck, and shave (please don’t suggest wax to me… that’s just sadistic).  I am not the only one who can’t get her jeans back on.  In fact, I know plenty of women who weighed less or MUCH LESS after childbirth than they did when they found out they were pregnant.  I am not the only one who has gone back on her personal promises and screamed at or spanked her children.  Or gave them a thumbs-width of Dr. Pepper in their sippy cup.  Therefore, I am not isolated!  But I do know I’m not the only one who feels the isolation.

Can I get an amen?

My Annual Fundraising for the March of Dimes

Every year for the past 6 years, I have walked with the same team in the March of Dimes’ local March for Babies.  I have raised over $1000 in the years I’ve done this, and that really isn’t that much, just a drop in the bucket.

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Won’t you help me help babies?

My NICU Nightmare

I carried both of my pregnancies to term. Both of my children were born after 41 weeks and were perfectly healthy.

Just two days after he was born, a standard blood culture run by the hospital came back positive and my newborn baby boy had to undergo special treatment starting about the time we should’ve been going home. My whole world view changed this past Thanksgiving as part of my heart was taken away to the NICU.

My healthy baby boy had to have a week’s worth of iv antibiotics, two diffent kinds to be precise. The first iv in the crook of his left arm worked its way out so the next went in his right arm; when that came out, they ran one into his scalp. It really is less cumbersome and painful for the little ones, but to see it is to be terrified.

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Fortunate

We are fortunate compared to other moms and dads who live for a bit in the NICU. Our boy was healthy. I’m a SAHM so didn’t have to worry about getting back to a job, just back to our daughter. The BHE had saved up his PTO so was able to split his time between the newborn and me in the hospital and our sweet angel baby at home.

It was hell.

But we are fortunate.

Our time in the NICU was short with a very positive outcome. There was no great fear nor major questions lingering over our heads while we were there. We knew when we were going home and that our boy would be healthy when we did.

March of Dimes

Not everyone whose baby enters the NICU has such an easy time or happy outcome.

The team I walk with has a young boy we really around who was born at 27 weeks, 3 days, only 2 lbs 4 oz. The time and terror his parents spent in the NICU is unbelievable.

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I walk with and raise money for the March of Dimes to help families like theirs. It isn’t just about nursing preemies to health and preparing them for the world outside of the womb; it’s about finding how we can stop premature births from ever happening.

It pains me to point out that not all premature babies do leave the hospital in the arms of their parents. I want to do whatever I can to save lives and help the families affected by premature birth.

Your Contribution

Help me help the March of Dimes help babies. Please click on my fundraising link and donate to this worthy cause before I walk in 3 days. You can learn more about the March of Dimes here.

As I said on my Instagram and Facebook accounts, just $5 from everyone connected to me via social media and I would raise more than TRIPLE what I pledged. I know I left this for last minute, but any contribution you make to the cause would be greatly appreciated. Again, just click on this link to donate.

Thank you.

6 Weeks Postpartum: The View from Out Here

It has been too long since I’ve written for you, my friends.  I think you have forgiven me, considering I gave birth, missed a holiday, spent some time in a NICU, had a birthday, tried to establish a routine with my tiny and my toddler, cut down a tree, decorated for Christmas, had four Christmases, and then missed the New Year because we were fighting so hard to stay awake and got sucked into a movie.  Yeah, the grand life of a SAHM with two under 3!

Six Weeks and My Brain is Full

Since the birth of our son, I keep thinking of these great blog post ideas:

    • My birth story, take 2

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    • Breastfeeding, pumping, and milk storage

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    • Handling a newborn while potty-training a toddler

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    • The trick to getting enough sleep
    • What life is like in the NICU

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    • Handling the holidays with a tiny and a toddler

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  • Handling the holidays when your in-laws live Right. On. Top. Of. You.

Since the birth of our son, I have found that when I do have time to write these awesome blog posts, I just don’t want to.  I want to snuggle with him and read a book.  And finally finish that second cup of coffee that I’ve reheated a bajillion times.
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New Year’s Resolution

I will come back to you, my readers.  I resolve to write more and nitpick my writing less.  I resolve to let it all out in effort to fulfill my promise when I started this blog:  to share what I’ve learned on my thoughtfully sought path through life in order to help others learn how they, too, can embrace all there is to offer while keeping healthy and sane.

I resolve to build this blog!

After I take a nap…

 

41 Weeks: The View from Up Here

Today marks 41 weeks of pregnancy.  Am I ready?

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I was losing my mind at 39 weeks…

Comparison

I still compare everything from this pregnancy with the last one.  At this point during my first pregnancy, I was holding my newborn Angel Baby during our last day at the hospital.  There.  That’s where I was.

Not once during my pregnancy with Angel Baby did I feel a contraction.  My cervix never did anything special, like get ready to expel a baby.  On the projected due date (PDD) at 40 weeks, we learned that our unborn child had actually been hanging out upside down… or right side up, depending on how you want to look at it.  Angel Baby was going to be stubborn and presented her sweet little self in the breech position.  We scheduled a c-section for 40+4, and that was that.

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The best skin-to-skin we could manage in the OR.

Here we are at 41 weeks:  baby is head down but not engaged, all signs are great for both baby and mommy, and now we just wait.

Sorta.

Fear

I wanted a “natural birth”* so badly that it took me quite some time to get over the fact that I had a surgery rather than an experience with Angel Baby.  I felt like I’d failed my body and my baby.  I felt robbed.  There are days I still feel like I was robbed of everything I had prepared for.

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Trying so hard to stay positive and be excited, yet here I was in pre-op just holding back tears…ones that had been streaming out of me since we learned baby was breech.

I never experienced any aspect of labor at the end of my first pregnancy.  I went from pregnant to the OR to being a breastfeeding mommy.  There was no major epiphanic (is that a word?) moment where the angels sang and the lights of Heaven shone upon me as I became a mother.  I just was.  Here, have this:  it is ridiculously demanding and you didn’t get to unwrap it like you wanted to.

Sigh.

So there’s fear going into this 41st week of pregnancy, round 2.  What if my body wasn’t made to give birth?  I mean, it clearly was made to get pregnant and carry babies. Quite awesomely, actually.  I’m super healthy as is the baby.  Just like last time.  (Ok, this time was a little more troublesome but all-in-all a healthy pregnancy.)

I had what is called a non-stress test (NST) yesterday.  I sat in a vinyl recliner with two straps over my belly:  one to monitor baby’s heart rate and movements, the other to monitor for my contractions.  I was handed a little clicker and was instructed to push the button each time I felt the baby move.  Baby Sprout was called a “show off” by the nurse.  And I had a contraction.  One.  And it wasn’t one I even recognized as such; the machine told me so.

And my cervix is still just sitting there.

Next Step

There are so many different ways to approach a pregnancy that continues past the PDD.  The best, in my mind, is to let it go.  Your body and baby know when it is time and it will happen.

However, as logical as that sounds, there are so many other ways to handle it from here.  Because my first pregnancy did end in surgery, there are certain measures/precautions/preconceptions regarding how this one ought to go.

I’m not going to tell you how you should handle this situation.  I’m not going to tell you what my friends say, my family thinks, or my midwife said the OB on-call would do… I am just going to simply state what I plan to do from here, my recliner, in my warm home.**

Unless Baby Sprout and my body agree to start moving things along, at 41+4 I will return to my midwife’s office for a membrane sweep.***  Until then, I will calmly go about my regular life with Angel Baby and the BHE.  I think a lot about Thanksgiving, as it is less than a week away.  I am double-checking the care and coverage we have for Angel Baby when we do go into labor and then through the hospital stay.  I am keeping my house clean, my pantry stocked, and my patience stretched.

After the sweep?  I don’t know.  I don’t.  And I’m not going to stress and fret about what needs to happen next.  I know my options, I know what I am comfortable with, I know what the BHE and I have talked about as well as how the midwife would like to proceed… the rest is just the rest.  I won’t know until we get there.

Deep Breathing

I’m fighting off a week-long cold and have been busying remaking plans for Angel Baby’s care****.  I am resting as much as possible but still going about my life.  I eat and dance and shop and read like any other SAHM.  I breathe.  And breathe some more.

*As a really great friend pointed out to me recently, all births are natural.  Truly.  No matter how your child comes into the world (unmedicated, at home, with an epidural, c-section, in the backseat, surrounded by machines that go BING!), the birth of that child was a natural occurrence.  Embrace that shit and be proud.

**I’m so over the pregnancy “advice”.  As well-meaning as everyone is, I am struggling to smile and nod at every little bit being said to me.  I’m not technically overdue, just past my PDD.  And yes, I’m having this baby in the hospital.  No, I don’t want to induce.  Yes, I am aware that may be what it comes down to.  No, I am not 100% opposed to induction, and sadly, I do know that a c-section is always a possibility (just like getting in a wreck on the way to the hospital is or any other thing you really don’t want to have happen).  Yes, I want to wait to make sure I give my body and the baby every chance to go about this on their own.  No, I don’t need anyone telling me my legal rights or how VBACs should be handled or why I should have sex and eat pineapple.  If I joke about it with you or share my thoughts with you, it isn’t me opening your floodgate; it is me talking to you.  I’ll stop talking now.

***Excerpt from site if you don’t want to read the whole thing:  “During an internal examination, she will try to insert a finger into the opening of your cervix (neck of your womb) and then gently but firmly move her finger around. This action should separate the membranes of the amniotic sac surrounding your baby from your cervix. This separation releases hormones (prostaglandins) which may kick-start your labour.”

****The absolutely ideal set up we had for Angel Baby while we’re in the hospital fell through because of this awful nasty thing called the flu.  Sadly, the loved ones who were going to be providing and abiding are fighting off this ugly, ugly fever-cough-vomit-misery.  Which meant last minute scrambling to make sure Angel Baby will be cared for those 3-ish days we’ll be “gone”.  Maybe just maybe I’ve gone past the PDD because my body and mind were well aware that it just wasn’t the right time yet.  Sure, the average is 41+4 (not 40, people; do your research), but maybe it is more about fate and a Guiding Hand making sure all is right before Baby Sprout joins us on the outside.

Looking Back Over Two Pregnancies: Comparing A to B, Apples and Oranges

Nothing more clearly illustrates the fact that no two pregnancies are alike than comparing my second to my first pregnancy.  The two gestation periods have been such contrasting experiences.

The Stats at 36 Weeks

Right now, I am 36 weeks pregnant with my second child (dubbed “Sprout”).  That means I’ve got 3-6 weeks until this baby arrives, although one could argue that labor and delivery could happen any time now.  Seriously.  We are in “go time”.

From yesterday’s regular prenatal appointment:
Weight:  155 lbs
My bp:  100/68
Height of fundus:  35 cm
Circumference of waist:  37”
Fetal heart rate:  130

Comparison

  1. Season

You may not think this should matter so much, which season a woman becomes pregnant, but it has made a huge difference in my experiences.  Angel Baby was born in July, meaning I found out I was pregnant the previous October.  During those early months of extreme exhaustion, it was winter when I spent most of my time indoors.  I was at my biggest with her right before true Summer hit here in the Midwest.  For some reason or another, not once during my 40 weeks of pregnancy with Angel Baby did I suffer from any of my usual allergies.  In fact, I was the healthiest I’ve ever been in my whole life.  It was fabulous.

We learned we were pregnant with Sprout in February of this year.  The months of extreme exhaustion:  yeah, during Spring when I like to deep clean the house and do some major yardwork before Nature starts getting serious.  My allergies:  They’ve been HELL.  Here I am at my most pregnant, right smack in the middle of harvest season.  Have I mentioned we live in rural Indiana?  What about the fact that we’re about a half-mile downhill from a major co-op and surrounded by corn and bean fields?

I’m telling you, what seasons you experience your trimesters during really alters the experience.

  1. Beginning Weight and Other Measurements

Oh, my goodness, this is a big one.  I weighed 10 lbs more when I found out I was pregnant with Angel Baby than I did when I found out I was pregnant with Sprout.  At the mid-way point, the 20-week ultrasound, I was 142 lbs the first pregnancy and 133 lbs the second one.  Now I’m almost 20 lbs less at 36 weeks with Sprout than I was with Angel Baby.

Yet I’m bigger!  I’m not kidding.  My blood pressure is roughly the same, the height of the fundus is 2 cm less, the fetal heart rate is almost 20 bpm less, and yet I can’t fit the same maternity clothes I was wearing at this stage last time.  The belly is just BIGGER.  (I haven’t consistently measured my circumference during either pregnancy but I’m roughly 4” more around this time than last time.)

The shirt I was wearing the morning Angel Baby was born?  I packed that away weeks ago when it no longer covered my belly.

Thank goodness for the belly wraps that cover the gap between your pants or skirt and your shirt.

Thank goodness for the belly wraps that cover the gap between your pants or skirt and your shirt.

3. Hormones

W. T. F. This has been CRAZY this time. I had some weepy moments and some panicky ones during my last pregnancy.  I never really had weird food cravings (or any, come to think of it).  There were the weird-ass dreams during the first trimester and the scary ones during the last trimester*.  But overall, I was on an even keel, enjoying my vitality and the growing life within me.

This time?  THIS TIME?!  Dear God, I don’t know where to start.  Let’s just sum it up in two words:  Prenatal Depression.  I shit you not, I still have “PMS” or it’s equivalent.  About every 28-32 days, I go through some immense emotions that make me a raging psychotic for 3-5 days.  Looking back through texts to friends and notes I made for myself, I can see a pattern of where I treated the BHE like shit.  Where I blew up over and over.  Where I was uncontrollably crying or had a terrible day with Angel Baby or questioned why I was married or why I was pregnant.  Where I thought I could no longer be a decent human and was a shitty SAHM so started actually job-hunting.  Yeah.  I was looking for a job at 7 months pregnant while a SAHM with a sweet toddler.  Wtf is wrong with me.

I honest-to-God have had temper tantrums this pregnancy, about once a month.  To all and every one of you , my family and friends, I am sorry.  I will blame the hormones as a trigger but I accept full responsibility for not handling those hormones like an intelligent adult.  I am sorry.  I love you.

  1. Eating

My first pregnancy:  anything and everything but preferably fruit.  And at all times.  I was always hungry.  I was always prepared with some food on me.  I loved fruit:  dried, frozen, smoothies, juice, fresh, in pie.  I had a horrible aversion to meat the entire pregnancy.

My second pregnancy:  I’m rarely “hungry” and would prefer junk food when I am hungry.  My desires for chocolate, pop, chips, fauxmage (fake cheese, ie American slices), lunchmeat, and pizza.

5. Overall Feeling

Here I am, feeling about as tidy as my clearly-not-tidy bathroom. Does this sum up how I'm feeling?

Here I am, about as tidy as my clearly-not-tidy bathroom. Does this sum up how I’m feeling?

Like I said above, I really felt wonderful when pregnant with Angel Baby.  It was the best I’d ever felt.  I was energetic (minus those exhaustion waves during the first trimester), I had lush hair and dewy skin, I felt like I could do anything and be anywhere, I was alive and loving it.  This time?  I feel like crap.  I’m always tired, I’m always dumpy, I am not enjoying a good portion of Sprout’s kicks and jumps, I walked hunched a lot because my back, hips, knees, and feet hurt.  What gives?

I was never “sick” with Angel Baby yet I spent a good portion of the first half of Sprout’s pregnancy feeling nauseated.  Yet I never got the satisfaction of vomiting.  You know what I’m talking about, right?  Where you feel so evilly ill that you want to vomit but don’t and then you feel even worse.

Angel Baby’s kicks were a miracle and made me smile.  Sprout likes to pound against the inside of my nether region until I must lay down in the fetal position to achieve relief.  My goodness, what next, little babe?

Our second miracle likes to hang out on the right side of my uterus.

Our second miracle likes to hang out on the right side of my uterus.

Misery Loves Company

All this negativity is not to say I am upset that I’m pregnant or “over it” or even thinking that this may be the last time I get pregnant.  All I am saying here is that my two pregnancies have been vastly different experiences.  Has this been the most pleasant 9 or so months of my life?  No, not really.  Do I regret getting pregnant or wish for this to be over now?  No, not at all.  I’m happy I’m pregnant.  I have joy that we’ve created another life and will be soon welcoming Sprout into the world.

I know the majority of the negative feelings are really my mind poorly handling the hormones and bodily changes.  I know that I need to get my head back on my thoughtfully sought path rather than letting the bad run rampant over me.  I know this is an uphill struggle, this portion of my path, and that I must work diligently to make sure it does not adversely affect the months following my second child’s birth.

A village gift

What I need is my village.  Misery loves company… to come pick it up, dust it off, and remind it that it is actually joy that’s been crumpled and tossed in the trash.  Much love and thanks to those who have been with me on this bumpy part of my path, whether just as an ear or as some serious uplifting advice.  I’m counting on my whole village to keep reminding me to look up at what is light and what is ahead.

*If you are new to pregnancy or haven’t come across this before, yes, the dreams are effed up.  The types of dreams I have had during each pregnancy are similar.  The first trimester ones are so filthy and erotic that I woke up blushing.  The third trimester ones are the kind of shit people don’t like to talk about unless it was some awful scene in a horrible movie.  For instance, I had a lot of dismembered baby dreams last time and a few horribly realistic ones where I had a stillbirth.  This time includes a lot of zombies and things that fly that shouldn’t fly.  Oh, and ones where the only person I can reach when I go into labor is my mother.  *shudder*