Waking up in a new world
January 4, 2011
Life goes on up here in the frozen tundra.
Tundra does imply that there exists more outside of my window other than grey and cold.
Most of Minnesota is grey it seems – and half of the time I find it pretty in a barren way, the other half I’m hiding under the covers in my bed, trying to avoid the wind chills.
This is quite the winter for this Mississippi girl, with record snow levels so far and plenty to watch and learn.
I’ve learned that I love soups and stews and dumplings and am expanding my repertoire to include them.
I’ve learned that I love to knit, really love it, but… Sort of stink at it.
I’ve learned that living without my child on a regular basis empties my life – I love being with my husband full time in a way I could never have imagined – but that happiness does not detract from the fact that I miss my daughter every second.
I’ve also learned that I’m quite the pregnant wimp – I lack the ability to suck it up and being unable to breathe and clean my house makes me WHINE!
This morning I woke up at 5:30 to take my husband to the bus stop for racquetball practice – not all that exciting for me, but for a man that hasn’t played in 2 months, well… Let’s just say I earned enough wife points to let me out of cooking tonight.
Have I mentioned how much standing up and moving around sucks right now?
Whine?
Molly, the baby, is baking right along – I’m excited to meet her but in this, my last week of pregnancy, I’ve reached panic mode.
What, in the world, am I going to do with a baby? Love her, sure – but it’s been 14 years since I last took care of a young one. I’m a little out of practice. Okay.
A lot.
But, I can’t wait to see her little face.
I can’t wait to have all my family together.
That’s when life will enter the officially perfect phase.
I can’t feel my toes.
December 7, 2010
The cold weighs on me.
I suppose it does on any southern transplant that finds their way into a frozen Siberia.
It’s a good thing Minneapolis is a civilized city or I would die without food – the nearest grocery is less than a mile from me and that has literally saved our lives.
I probably wouldn’t venture much further in cold like this.
I know, I know.
I’m being overdramatic.
I think it’s my right, being 9 months pregnant, a big baby, and freezing to boot!
There are fun things about the weather.
I love watching the snow fall.
I like waking up to the white everywhere and seeing the kids play in it.
I like the idea that my daughters will know what real snowfall is and will be able to make a snowman more than once in their lives.
I also find it odd that the apartment complexes all have their own little machines for ice/snow removal on the pavement. The complex next to us owns their own bulldozer! or backhoe. Technically I think it’s a backhoe, but my brain is really too frozen to think about it much.
My daughter comes to visit in less than 2 weeks and I’ve never been so excited in all my life. There really aren’t words to explain how much you can miss someone until you’re missing one of your children.
Missing Nick was bad – but livable. I found a new normal with our separation that I’m struggling with in this separation from Abigail.
I have not had an adult day where I have not been her parent and very few kid days – I’ve been her mom for half of my life at least and that makes an impact.
So we’re learning something new – hopefully not something forever. I think we’d both go to pieces a little bit at that. I worry about her.
BUT! That’s neither here nor there – we’re not walking down that path today.
Today we’re cold.
Looking forward to her visit.
Putting off Christmas shopping and unpacking.
And enduring Braxton Hicks contractions.
Those painless little contractions that are currently stoving up my uterus and making me want to punch the small schoolchildren outside of my window.
I’m so glad they’re painless.
(Don’t worry, the kids are safe from me, because, as I may have mentioned – it’s COLD out there.)
Pregnancy is progressing. 35 1/2 weeks now means that the time is rushing up on us.
I wish I had her nursery ready or her clothes washed or even enough boxes unpacked to get to half of those things.
But moving has been slow – I’ve been lazy and sore and lazy and tired and lazy.
Nick woke me up panicked that I was going to go into labor without having a hospital bag packed. I have now promised to see to that this week so he can sleep at night.
I wouldn’t want to make it up there without my neck pillow, after all. What a goose.
The hospital is only 2.5 miles away, so this wasn’t a factor I really worried about – I worry more about him having to leave mid-labor because the dogs need to be walked and fed.
This living away from the massive support system I’m used to is not for the faint of heart.
Maybe he should make friends for situations like this?
It’s a thought.
All in all, I’m not quite ready for Ms. Molly’s arrival.
I’m scared that it’s been so many years since I’ve done this and I’m a bit emotional with missing my Abigail…
And I have no idea what to do with the umbilical cord or changing diapers quickly or how to go without sleep when I actually want sleep…
So I’m doing the new mother chickening out thing.
Which isn’t very useful at this point, considering.
So the point being that things are good. I’m cold.
Good and cold.
Just 40 cents a cup!
November 7, 2010
Wow.
Apparently when you’re packing up your life into one small large PODS unit and planning to move across country, things get neglected.
Like the Inner Me that I coddle with this blog.
Though I will say that no one wants to know the Inner Me that is currently inhabiting my third trimester pregnant body.
The newly off Zoloft third trimester pregnant body.
Yeah.
My doctor is a GENIUS. Because THAT was a great idea.
I know, I know.
We don’t want the baby to go through withdrawal symptoms after she’s born from Zoloft – the lows from that are misery-inducing.
We also don’t want the hormonal pregnant woman to set up shop on a roof somewhere and throw rocks at people.
So it’s a trade-off.
My motherly instinct won. Especially the motherly instinct that seems to be living in my husband’s body.
Never did I think that I would see the day where I’d lose my gung ho husband to overprotective fatherhood.
I’m convinced that if we’d received socket covers in the baby shower he’d already be using them to keep me from sticking things in the sockets by proxy – because it might hurt the baby.
No amount of persuasive arguments will convince him that poking the stomach right now won’t hurt the baby. He doesn’t care if it’s to make the baby move, to play with it, or because I just seem like one of those women that would like randomly poking things – I need to stop and I need to stop NOW.
I have dreams about throwing her up in the air – when she gets to that fun stage, not when she’s still a floppy doughgirl – that cause me to wake up giggling at the idea of his face.
Parenting may be the straw that broke that particular Italian camel’s back. Because things can HAPPEN to the kid.
But then again, it may be him going crazy after dealing with me.
Because right now I’m batshit nuts.
And, I don’t mean incapable or homicidal or unstable or any of those things that might cause a custody judge to read this and think I’m a half step away from the crazy farm.
I mean I’m hormonal, fat, uncomfortable and UNABLE TO EAT PROCESSED SUGAR! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT DOES TO A PERSON?!!!?
Apparently what that does to a person is causes them to procrastinate on packing and cry a lot.
And eat buckets of Sonic ice and stare longingly at the Eggnog lattes at Starbucks.
And eat 3 boxes of Corn Flakes in a week.
My life revolves around food a lot lately.
Ah well.
In another week I shall be well and truly nuts – on my way to Minneapolis, with my husband and two beagles, leaving my daughter to finish out the school year with my parents – because that is the only option I have with all of the custody mess being put off, thankyousomuchlawyerofmyex’sthatseemstothinkdraggingthisoutovertimehelpsAbbey
This period in my life is the hardest I’ve ever been through in the 30 years I’ve been alive and I can’t even comfort myself with a Snickers.
For those of you that will see me in the hospital after this placenta is gone and I can once again have sugar, don’t judge me. I can freebase refined sugar if I want to.
Times be changing, yo.
October 22, 2010
At 4:00 CST this afternoon, I will be retired.
Maybe not forever, but for the forseeable future.
And that’s an exciting DAUNTING truth.
I will be a mom and a wife.
And not much else.
No longer a… whatever I have been these past few years.
Expectations that I’ve had for myself throughout the years are changing daily.
I’m nervous. I’m scared.
I’ve been hired for a ‘job’ that I can’t fail at.
And oddly enough, in this case, I’m the only one qualified for it.
So.
Goodbye, steady paychecks, timecards and filing.
Hello… whatever comes next.
Introducing Molly!
October 16, 2010
My 4D ultrasound was this morning – are those ever cool or what?!!?
When I was pregnant with Abbey they didn’t have anything like this – colored photos were the coolest new thing.
I’d love to have some from her, but she was there with me this morning to gaze at her sister.
And it’s like other ultrasounds in that it takes some getting used to before you really realize what you’re seeing, but it was wonderful.
Check her out!
Mooning the world! In my own little way.
September 21, 2010
So it’s been a few days.
One of the things that you’ll learn about me and/or my varying levels of mental illness/anxiety/OCD/depression is that everything waxes and wanes in my life.
On the days when the meds are working great, I’m motivated to interact with the world.
On the days when the meds are lacking, I accomplish only that which I have to during the day until I can surround myself entirely with my house and family.
During this pregnancy, because I’ve lowered my meds enough to help me “get by” and not really thrive in the hopes of lessening their effects on the baby girl, well… there aren’t really DOWNS, per say, so much as there are days where I find myself staring blankly ahead of me, out of the window, at my feet – wherever my attention caught and failed. These days are almost a pleasure because I can reach the introspective side of me that so rarely emerges on the full doses of medicine. I’m more creative, more emotional, more dramatic – and such a pain in the ass. But I recognize this side of me much more easily than I do the energetic, more motivated side that appears once dosed up. You see, it’s this side of me that takes blame for everything, that carries around a load of guilt that couldn’t possibly be attributed to only her and that finds an unrealistic negativity in everything that she does.
She’s masochistic and though sometimes it IS a pleasure to sink into that dark abyss, I’ll be so glad when she’s gone again.
She’s been whispering her seductive tales of failure and circumstance today, after we were both diagnosed with gestational diabetes this morning. She tells me that it’s my fault, that I’m overweight, that I’m eating wrong, that I’m a genetic hopeless case. The doctor disagrees but she’s the conceited one, knowing more than the doctor, more than anyone else could possibly know – after all, it’s her body too!
::sigh::
I’m scared.
I know it’s a common diagnosis.
I know that diet and exercise can help make this a non-issue in the long run, but still there’s that little whisper in my head telling me that MY case is worse than the others – apparently the masochistic side of me is a little egocentric as well.
I guess only backbone will tell.
Backbone and green vegetables, that is.
The Sink or Swim Method
September 13, 2010
I’ve been thinking a lot about the paths in my life that I’ve meandered down.
Some going forwards, many going backwards, some going really nowhere at all.
For me parenting has been one of those winding paths.
I don’t think that you can become a mom in your teenage years and not go in a gazillion different directions trying to find the Right Way.
Life surprises throw you curve balls and it’s a measure of character just how you field those when they reach you.
I made a semi-joke on another blog today (on a very clever blog post by one of my newfound favorites, Fierce Beagle) about Nick and I handling this pregnancy with the Sink or Swim Method – a joke that doesn’t even come close to the juggling and planning that is going into making sure this child’s life is a bit smoother than Abbey’s.
You see, I had to sink or swim with Abbey too – but entering adulthood at 16 is far different than dealing with an unplanned pregnancy at 30.
At 30, I define my pregnancy as unplanned simply because I hadn’t penciled it in to my schedule – hadn’t yet made the decisions and sacrifices needed to choose to parent again. But I was conscious of biology and knew, on a subconscious level, that it was just a matter of time.
At 16, my pregnancy was unplanned because EVERYTHING was unplanned. Even the act that provided my fertile self a baby was unplanned. Heck, my afternoon SNACKS were unplanned.
And so I entered parenthood completely clueless – and am continuing through parenthood so incredibly grateful that I am blessed with the family I’m blessed with, that Abbey and I had the support needed PSYCHOLOGICALLY to ensure that she hasn’t had to pay for my lack of planning. I had to work hard, 2 or 3 jobs at a time to handle the monetary part of parenting, but I KNEW I could do it because of my support system.
Now, with this pregnancy, everything has changed.
Oh, not the support.
My family is still here for me, but this time my support has evolved.
I’ve added age and wisdom, a husband, a TON of in-laws, a maturing and wonderful daughter, and more than anything, I’m in a different place mentally.
I’ve grown up.
And even though I’m still completely clueless – now starting all over after having separated the two pregnancies by slightly more than 14 years – it’s almost a joyful cluelessness. The problems that I face with this child will be entirely different than the heartbreaking problems that go along with missed chances and opportunities of growing up as a child raising a child.
It’s bittersweet, knowing that I have a chance to fix many of the wrongs from the first time around – not merely the parenting mistakes that we all make, but the mistakes that come from following your hormones at 15 and having a child pay that price with custody battles and therapy appointments.
You see, she and I did play sink or swim.
And we continue to swim, though more in a dog paddling sense than the assertive breast stroke sense.
But our life is changing.
With this second pregnancy, to sink or swim means that we’ve decided I’ll stay at home. It means we’re questioning our priorities and our quality of life choices in order to provide more support for my two children from this point on. We’re going to continue to drive that 14 year old Mustang, to continue to budget shop, to continue to pray to avoid medical surprises. Our children will have a better foundation now – while we are still energetic enough to provide it – and less of a financial push later on, when they may very well need – or hope for it.
They’ll have to sink or swim based upon their choices too. Colleges and car payments, relationships and faulty judgments. And making that decision for the two of them has been scary.
Weighing the benefits of this life versus the life with the shinier cars and splashy vacations that we all want is petrifying. Choosing the road that is (now) less travelled is petrifying.
Everything about standing on a fence, knowing that a large gust could send us to either side – either make it or break it – is petrifying.
But I think we’re doing the right thing.
Sometimes the good in life stems from the sacrificing versus the spending.
Erin spoke on her blog of the American Dream and while Nick and I may never have that, I think we’re defining our own dream, bit by bit.
He may be bald with stress by the time we figure out if this will work or not, but we WILL figure it out.
We have to.
Because you see, I much prefer swimming to sinking.
A sign that pregnancy limits oxygen flow to the brain. Or. How I kept myself giggling for two hours this morning at work.
August 31, 2010
(To the tune of ‘If you’re happy and you know it’)
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
European.
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
European.
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
Then it goes straight through your bladder
If you’re pregnant and drinking water
European.
The scary thing about babies.
August 27, 2010
Besides the fact that they’re small.
Small and helpless and utterly reliant upon you for their every need.
Besides all of that, the scary thing about babies is shopping for them.
Yes. I’m serious. It’s terrifying.
Because there are so many things that come along with raising a baby.
Sure, you don’t NEED them, but life is so much easier with them – and what new parent doesn’t crave a little bit of easing in the level of difficulty of things?
Exactly.
Enter things like the Boppy.
The Boppy
Made for help with nursing and infant support, I can completely see the geniusness of this product.
Before the Boppy, mothers had to use regular rectangle pillows and who wants that?! No one. So, the Boppy was invented and life is good now.
Yes, I will own one of these. For many reasons, but also just because I like saying Boppy.
BOPpy.
bopPY
BOPPY.
You try it.
Also in the world of infant support comes the dark horse runner-up called the Bumpo.
It’s been deemed the runner-up because its name isn’t nearly as clever as Boppy.
Though it does start with a B and we’re very proud of the Bumpo people for continuing this tradition.
Yes, it’s that retarded looking.
AND the good news is that I will own one of these too.
If for no other reason than it comes in puke green and looks like a toddler fashioned it out of PlayDoh.
Yum. PlayDoh.
The list goes on and on.
Nipple pads, specialized pacifiers for different ages/abilities in their sucking months, teething toys, teething creams, strollers, stroller bags, stroller cup holders, swings, vibrating bouncing seats – it keeps going and going and going until I wonder WHERE other parents put all of this “necessary” stuff. I also have some pretty wild theories on how they pay for it.
Being an expert milker with my first daughter, the theories range from being security guards that squirt would-be criminals in the eye with breast milk to airline passengers that pay the new parents to sit further away from them on plane rides.
I’m overwhelmed.
And I’m not ashamed to admit it, because there seems to be no other logical response to the amazing hordes of crap needed to take care of a baby other THAN wide eyes and a slightly nervous gulp.
WHAT am I going to DO with a BABY?
Guess what?!!
August 25, 2010
Nick and I got the surprise of our lives.
Though why we’re so surprised I don’t know.
They say these things have a 50/50 chance either way… I just assumed all of that testosterone in my husband’s body had to share itself in some way or another.
But in January we’ll welcome a new girl to the family and he’ll be completely and totally outnumbered with no hope of boyish redemption.
I love it.
I’m so excited – I can’t wait for the tea parties and dolls and girl stuff that softens a daddy’s heart. These next few years should be quite the adventure.
