One of baby girl's favorite books is the Itsy Bitsy Spider. It tells all about Itsy's various attempts of outsmarting the rain and the sundry adventures he gets into along the way. There's one page where he's running away from some birds; it says, "Itsy's running, all puffed out." When we get to that page in the book, without fail, baby girl pants along with Itsy, huffing out a "huh-huh-huh" the way we taught her.
That's where we are right now as a family. All puffed out. Panting. Catching our breath.
In the last 6 weeks, we've had one emergency trip to Dallas, two first birthday parties, one positive home pregnancy test, one family vacation to Florida, one doctor's visit where we saw a beautiful little heartbeat, one big job change, one trip to California, and one week of my mom and grandma visiting because TH was in Zurich on business.
We are all.puffed.out.
The good news is that 95% of our business the last 6 weeks was wonderful, exciting, happy, thrilling events. It is definitely easier to go through a stretch like this when that is the case.
The bad news is that we allowed it to all snowball in on itself. We've neglected our cats, our home, our cars, our blogs, our friends, and our laundry trying to keep up with our schedule. Never again (well, at least not until the next time) will we allow such a long, hard stretch with no break.
But we made it. Like Itsy, we made it back to our spout. Time to turn again and start to get our footing back in our normal lives.
It would be way too hard to do a fair job of recapping the entire six weeks. The last month has been amazing for baby girl. The most amazing yet. Her language and communication capacities have exploded. She went from speaking about 5 words on her first birthday to having more than 30 words now. More than THIRTY. She says book, ball, more, duck, go, out, no, blue, green, dada, mama, kitty, dog, bus, please, boo, bye-bye, night-night, boat, hi, cracker, there, hot (she says hot and then blows and shakes her hand for this one . . . SO cute!), eye, mouth, and bubble, and can make the animal noises (we're counting these as "words") for a dog, cat, snake, lion, monkey, elephant, cow, bird, and rooster. Her signs have also exploded in the last month. She now signs more, all done, please, milk, hat, diaper, thank you, and book. The rate at which she is learning things now is astonishing. She is a little sponge, listening to us, watching us, and learning, usually after only a few repetitions. What a cool age this is!!!
Oh, and one other little thing. She's walking. Or toddling. Or whatever you call it. She's been taking 2-3 falling steps between me and TH for about a month now but seemed to kind of plateau out there (apparently she was focusing on her language skills this month!). But while TH was in Switzerland and my mom and grandma were here, something snapped and she took 5, 6, even 7 solid steps between us, even stopping halfway and standing for a minute before starting back up again! We are on the brink of a totally new world with her, and as usual, I can't wait.
And an update on Dos? Ah, sweet Dos. How different this pregnancy is than my first. With baby girl, we had nothing else going on. Nothing to do in the evenings except daydream about babies and paint nurseries and talk names. I had all the time in the world to think about her and bond with her. But now? Now I spend most of my awake time with my daughter, entertaining and laughing and helping her walk and talking to her and making sure she doesn't get into anything. And then she goes to sleep and I do all the rest of our typical life-maintenance kind of stuff (dishes, laundry, cleaning, prepping for the next day, uploading pictures, writing thank-you notes, etc. etc. etc.) for as long as I can before collapsing into bed and passing out in sleep in about 0.7 seconds. I often forget that I am pregnant. I often struggle with feelings of guilt that already Dos is getting shafted. On the bright side, I have way less time to sit and worry than I did the first time around.
So, we're here. We survived the six weeks of insanity. We are all puffed out and looking forward to spending a few weeks at home, recovering our sanity and our lives. Along the way, life happened. Baby girl grew and gained amazing capabilities. She laughed and made us laugh. Our family grew. Life goes on, even when you are too busy to be able to stop and celebrate it the way you should.
What a ride.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
I Believe
I'm participating in my first-ever blog link-up. You should join!
I believe . . .
. . . that sleep is good for the body, and that not enough sleep will eventually lead to your body telling you, "Eff you, I quit."
. . . that husbands and wives have to remember to fight for each other, not with each other, and that this is never harder--or more important--than when you're both exhausted and your child is losing her freaking mind on a late flight.
. . . that it doesn't really matter who is right or wrong in a fight; all that matters is that you both remember that neither of you wants to be mad at the other and that it only takes one person to swallow their pride and begin the making-up process.
. . . that when one person is pregnant and exhausted, and the other person is only exhausted, it's the latter of the two who will usually need to initiate the make-up process, as the former will be likely be too pissed and stubborn to do it herself.
. . . that bananas are the single best middle-of-the-night snack to ward off nausea.
. . . that my husband is stronger and does more for our family than he could ever realize.
. . . that most of the time, it really is just all details.
Here's the button to the link-up originator (I hope this works!):
Join in! What do you believe in this week?
I believe . . .
. . . that sleep is good for the body, and that not enough sleep will eventually lead to your body telling you, "Eff you, I quit."
. . . that husbands and wives have to remember to fight for each other, not with each other, and that this is never harder--or more important--than when you're both exhausted and your child is losing her freaking mind on a late flight.
. . . that it doesn't really matter who is right or wrong in a fight; all that matters is that you both remember that neither of you wants to be mad at the other and that it only takes one person to swallow their pride and begin the making-up process.
. . . that when one person is pregnant and exhausted, and the other person is only exhausted, it's the latter of the two who will usually need to initiate the make-up process, as the former will be likely be too pissed and stubborn to do it herself.
. . . that bananas are the single best middle-of-the-night snack to ward off nausea.
. . . that my husband is stronger and does more for our family than he could ever realize.
. . . that most of the time, it really is just all details.
Here's the button to the link-up originator (I hope this works!):
Join in! What do you believe in this week?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Ten on Tuesday: Travel Edition
Inspired by our recent trips to both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts.
1. Baby girl hates sand. Apparently grass leg (see month 9 photo on right) translates into sand leg as well. I think it's a texture thing. I think it freaks her out that it sticks to her. This isn't so great when you want to sit in the sand and build sand castles together, but it ended up working out in our favor when we discovered that we could just plop her on a beach towel and that served as a make-shift playpen since she wouldn't move off the towel onto the sand. Win.
2. Baby girl love love LOVES the sea breeze, the birds, the ocean, the sound of the waves, the taste of sea shells . . . in short, everything about the beach except the sand.
3. Things I recommend:
--getting a suite hotel room so that you can put the kiddo to bed and still stay up and visit, watch TV, etc.
--bringing the stroller to the airport. Even if you end up holding your kiddo most of the time, the stroller can hold three bags plus a giant car seat, much more than any mere mortal.
--early morning flights. You are well rested. Your kiddo is well rested. Chances of anyone melting down, young or old, are much smaller.
--thick skin. You'll get eye rolls and looks of exasperation when people see that they are seated next to a baby. Brush them haters off.
4. Things I don't recommend:
--late flights. You'll regret it. If your kid is anything like mine, they are too social and into all the people to chill the eff out and sleep. Until they finally reach their breaking point and scream bloody freaking murder while the entire plane tries to give you sympathetic smiles but really are thinking in their heads, "What the hell is wrong with that child? Why can't her parents calm her down? Why aren't they doing anything about it? Why is she still awake at this hour? Why did they book a late flight, those IDIOTS!" (I may be projecting on that last part.)
--planning back-to-back cross-country trips during your first trimester. Traveling is tiring. Traveling with a baby is exhausting. Traveling with a baby when all you want to do is sleep and puke is no bueno.
5. Going on a pure-fun family vacation (a la our trip to Florida) is waaaay different than going somewhere for a purpose (a la our trip to California). Florida was delightful. Relaxing. Soul-cleansing. We had no where to be at any given time. Our hardest decisions were something along the lines of where to eat? Pool or beach? You get the idea. California was stressful. We had to meet with people for meals. We had to be certain places at certain times, and of course none of those events were planned with a baby's nap schedule in mind. Poor baby girl got only one nap a day the entire trip, at some point in the afternoon, whenever we managed to make it back to the hotel. She also stayed up way late every night. She is a total trooper and still managed to charm the pants off everyone, but I felt guilty the whole time. The second trip just felt like one big fat chore.
6. No matter how much I rationally reminded myself, again and again, that TH was IN the wedding, that these were HIS friends, that he needed to go be social and participate in all of the activities and could not possibly be expected to leave anything early, by the last evening, when I was leaving the wedding reception early, by myself, once again, to get baby girl home and in bed finally, I still resented it. I felt like a nanny he had brought along so that he could go out and party with his friends every night, unhindered by his parental responsibilities. That resentment, coupled with a first-trimester exhaustion and nausea, coupled with a melting-down child on the flight back, did not end well for us.
7. Did I mention my exhaustion? Our flight landed at 11:30 p.m. last night. We finally made it home by 1 a.m. I was up at 6 for work. I am worthless today. Worthless. I've downloaded the file I'm supposed to be working on, but it is 1:07 in the afternoon and it's still just sitting on my desktop because I can't garner my thoughts well enough to put together coherent sentences. Exhibit A: I kept thinking, I should do a trip recap like a ten on Tuesday. Darn, too bad it's not Tuesday. I honestly thought this exact thing two or three times before realizing that it was, in fact, Tuesday. Exhibit B: I went to pee for the third time at work this morning (aw, frequent urination, how I've missed thee!) (<--sarcasm font), at which point I realized I had put on my pants backwards. Funny #1: putting on your pants backwards. Funny #2-#4: not realizing your pants are on backwards until the THIRD time you go to the bathroom.
8. My first-trimester symptoms, combined with my exhaustion from all the travel and my irritation with how the California trip was going down, did not bode well for my tolerance levels with my mother-in-law. Everything out of her mouth seemed trite, whiny, and self-indulgent. I'm really, really hoping there was still some veil of politeness on my exterior that hid my interior dirty looks and eye-rolling.
9. I'm not around other babies a lot. I'm around my baby a lot. So I think all babies are like my baby. Talkative. Outgoing. Energetic. Expressive. Charming. The bride and groom have a 15-month-old daughter, who, literally, just sat and stared all weekend. I swear I never once saw her smile. Never heard her vocalize anything. Bored look? Impassive staring. Excited look? Impassive staring. They could plop her and prop her in all manner of positions (she was wheeled up the aisle in a red flyer wagon, sitting amidst a nest of tulle and flowers, and she literally just sat and stared, whereas my child would be eating the tulle, pointing to all the people, and trying to dive out of the wagon to pet the koi in the pond. While I was a little envious that their girl fell asleep at the reception, never once uttering a peep, while my baby girl sort of morphed into a maniac who laughed and shouted "Buh! Buh!" and signed more whenever she saw bubbles floating around, I was also reminded how absolutely amazing my child is. Damn I love her.
10. Ultimately, I came out of these experiences, as I have all others, more in love than ever with my girl. Through flights and car rides and screwed up schedules and screwed up eating and being kept up late and woken up early, she was a total rock star. She was funny and sweet and charming and made every second of both trips enjoyable. (Okay, maybe not those ten minutes she lost her freaking mind on the flight last night. That wasn't enjoyable. But other than that.) She is a trooper, and I can't imagine any cooler kid than she is. I know I'm not supposed to compare, but Dos is going to have one helluva example set for him/her!
1. Baby girl hates sand. Apparently grass leg (see month 9 photo on right) translates into sand leg as well. I think it's a texture thing. I think it freaks her out that it sticks to her. This isn't so great when you want to sit in the sand and build sand castles together, but it ended up working out in our favor when we discovered that we could just plop her on a beach towel and that served as a make-shift playpen since she wouldn't move off the towel onto the sand. Win.
2. Baby girl love love LOVES the sea breeze, the birds, the ocean, the sound of the waves, the taste of sea shells . . . in short, everything about the beach except the sand.
3. Things I recommend:
--getting a suite hotel room so that you can put the kiddo to bed and still stay up and visit, watch TV, etc.
--bringing the stroller to the airport. Even if you end up holding your kiddo most of the time, the stroller can hold three bags plus a giant car seat, much more than any mere mortal.
--early morning flights. You are well rested. Your kiddo is well rested. Chances of anyone melting down, young or old, are much smaller.
--thick skin. You'll get eye rolls and looks of exasperation when people see that they are seated next to a baby. Brush them haters off.
4. Things I don't recommend:
--late flights. You'll regret it. If your kid is anything like mine, they are too social and into all the people to chill the eff out and sleep. Until they finally reach their breaking point and scream bloody freaking murder while the entire plane tries to give you sympathetic smiles but really are thinking in their heads, "What the hell is wrong with that child? Why can't her parents calm her down? Why aren't they doing anything about it? Why is she still awake at this hour? Why did they book a late flight, those IDIOTS!" (I may be projecting on that last part.)
--planning back-to-back cross-country trips during your first trimester. Traveling is tiring. Traveling with a baby is exhausting. Traveling with a baby when all you want to do is sleep and puke is no bueno.
5. Going on a pure-fun family vacation (a la our trip to Florida) is waaaay different than going somewhere for a purpose (a la our trip to California). Florida was delightful. Relaxing. Soul-cleansing. We had no where to be at any given time. Our hardest decisions were something along the lines of where to eat? Pool or beach? You get the idea. California was stressful. We had to meet with people for meals. We had to be certain places at certain times, and of course none of those events were planned with a baby's nap schedule in mind. Poor baby girl got only one nap a day the entire trip, at some point in the afternoon, whenever we managed to make it back to the hotel. She also stayed up way late every night. She is a total trooper and still managed to charm the pants off everyone, but I felt guilty the whole time. The second trip just felt like one big fat chore.
6. No matter how much I rationally reminded myself, again and again, that TH was IN the wedding, that these were HIS friends, that he needed to go be social and participate in all of the activities and could not possibly be expected to leave anything early, by the last evening, when I was leaving the wedding reception early, by myself, once again, to get baby girl home and in bed finally, I still resented it. I felt like a nanny he had brought along so that he could go out and party with his friends every night, unhindered by his parental responsibilities. That resentment, coupled with a first-trimester exhaustion and nausea, coupled with a melting-down child on the flight back, did not end well for us.
7. Did I mention my exhaustion? Our flight landed at 11:30 p.m. last night. We finally made it home by 1 a.m. I was up at 6 for work. I am worthless today. Worthless. I've downloaded the file I'm supposed to be working on, but it is 1:07 in the afternoon and it's still just sitting on my desktop because I can't garner my thoughts well enough to put together coherent sentences. Exhibit A: I kept thinking, I should do a trip recap like a ten on Tuesday. Darn, too bad it's not Tuesday. I honestly thought this exact thing two or three times before realizing that it was, in fact, Tuesday. Exhibit B: I went to pee for the third time at work this morning (aw, frequent urination, how I've missed thee!) (<--sarcasm font), at which point I realized I had put on my pants backwards. Funny #1: putting on your pants backwards. Funny #2-#4: not realizing your pants are on backwards until the THIRD time you go to the bathroom.
8. My first-trimester symptoms, combined with my exhaustion from all the travel and my irritation with how the California trip was going down, did not bode well for my tolerance levels with my mother-in-law. Everything out of her mouth seemed trite, whiny, and self-indulgent. I'm really, really hoping there was still some veil of politeness on my exterior that hid my interior dirty looks and eye-rolling.
9. I'm not around other babies a lot. I'm around my baby a lot. So I think all babies are like my baby. Talkative. Outgoing. Energetic. Expressive. Charming. The bride and groom have a 15-month-old daughter, who, literally, just sat and stared all weekend. I swear I never once saw her smile. Never heard her vocalize anything. Bored look? Impassive staring. Excited look? Impassive staring. They could plop her and prop her in all manner of positions (she was wheeled up the aisle in a red flyer wagon, sitting amidst a nest of tulle and flowers, and she literally just sat and stared, whereas my child would be eating the tulle, pointing to all the people, and trying to dive out of the wagon to pet the koi in the pond. While I was a little envious that their girl fell asleep at the reception, never once uttering a peep, while my baby girl sort of morphed into a maniac who laughed and shouted "Buh! Buh!" and signed more whenever she saw bubbles floating around, I was also reminded how absolutely amazing my child is. Damn I love her.
10. Ultimately, I came out of these experiences, as I have all others, more in love than ever with my girl. Through flights and car rides and screwed up schedules and screwed up eating and being kept up late and woken up early, she was a total rock star. She was funny and sweet and charming and made every second of both trips enjoyable. (Okay, maybe not those ten minutes she lost her freaking mind on the flight last night. That wasn't enjoyable. But other than that.) She is a trooper, and I can't imagine any cooler kid than she is. I know I'm not supposed to compare, but Dos is going to have one helluva example set for him/her!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Crazy Things
(Written 9/13, published 10/7)
This weekend:
This weekend:
- I remembered that I can't eat lunch meat.
- I remembered that I can't have caffeine . . . or chocolate (sob).
- I remembered that I can't clean the litter box.
- I remembered that I can't drink a beer to unwind.
- I remembered what it feels like to be SO NOT HUNGRY one minute and then FEED ME RIGHT NOW the next.
- I remembered what it feels like to be restricted, to wonder, should I be doing these push-ups? Should I be spraying this insect poison? Should I be getting up early to go run?
- I remembered that I need to be a lot more diligent about making sure my prenatal prescription is filled.
- I remembered what it feels like to want to go to bed for the night at 8 p.m.
- I remembered what it feels like to have a secret that you want to shout from the rooftops.
- I remembered what it feels like to wonder if anyone can tell.
The Proof is in the Pudding
(Written 9/17, published 10/7)
Well, not pudding. Pictures, as it were. The proof is in the pictures.
Well, not pudding. Pictures, as it were. The proof is in the pictures.
First, I saw this.
(That's when my face turned white.)
Then I saw this.
(No denying that one.)
Then we did this.
(This one makes my heart melt. We may not have it all together, but together we have it all!)
And then there was this. How could I leave out our first photo as a family of four?!
(Happy Birthday, baby girl! Guess what Mommy and Daddy got you!)
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Surreal
(Written September 10; published October 6)
I took a pregnancy test two days ago.
It was kind of on a whim. I guess I was "late"--it was cycle day 35 and no sign of AF. I had been really moody, so I figured she was just running late this month, as she has done in months past. I had a day where I didn't really feel like eating anything. I attributed it to stress at work. I threw up Taco Bell for dinner. I attributed it to eating too fast. I ate ice cream for dinner. I attributed it to throwing up my earlier attempt. The next morning, I pulled out one of our five $1 HPTs. Why not? I thought. It's only a dollar. And seeing it be negative will stop all the little whispers in the back of my brain.
I honestly didn't give testing much thought. Yes, we'd looked at our finances and determined we could afford a second child. Yes, we'd talked about it at length and determined we wanted a second child. We had decided the time was right to start trying. We had had unprotected sex. But still, even then, there were so many unknowns. I didn't know when I had ovulated. I'm still breastfeeding baby girl, so my cervical fluid is affected (read: not really there very much at all). We hadn't had baby-making sex. We had had welcome-home-from-your-business-trip sex, oh-by-the-way-you-don't-have-to-pull-out-anymore-remember? sex. A while ago. I didn't even remember when. Life had been so hectic for us in the last couple of weeks, I honestly couldn't even remember when.
I peed. I put the test down and walked away. Curiosity got the best of me about five seconds later and I went back. My cursory glance showed a rapidly darkening control line and nothing else. I nodded, affirmed, and went to brush my teeth. Of course I'm not pregnant, I told myself. I'm still breastfeeding. We had unprotected sex like twice. Last time it took us six months of trying, of actively TRYING, of charting temps and OPKs and CM and CP. It's hard to get pregnant, remember? That's why we're starting to try now. So that hopefully we'll get somewhere in the next six months. I finished brushing my teeth, calmer, and went back to the test for the official read.
I picked it up.
And I almost dropped it.
There was not only one line.
There were two.
Two lines.
I would like to say that I stared intently, eyes boring into the test, burning a hole trying to tell if the line was real or not. But it really wasn't necessary. The two lines lay there, parallel, clear as day.
I walked out of the bathroom like a zombie. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I don't know that I've ever seen my face so white. (One day I'm going to look up the physiology of what causes your face to become ghostly white at a great shock. I mean, does your blood literally drain from your face?)
I put the test down on the counter and showered. I actually don't remember much of that shower. I'm pretty sure I washed my hair, but the entire time, my mind was a loud roar of white noise. I think that was my brain's way of protecting itself from the onslaught of thoughts that were racing around like a sudden mental mosh pit. What? When? How? REALLY? Whatthe-? REALLY? What are we going to do? How am I going to tell my boss? How are our parents going to react? How are our finances going to handle it? How is baby girl going to handle it? How am I going to handle it? REALLY???
I looked into that mosh pit from afar and plucked out a single thought, clinging to it in the deluge like a survivor clings to a life boat.
How am I going to tell TH?
He was still sleeping peacefully in bed five feet from where I stood. Just the day before he had been telling me about his mom urging us to wait another year or two before having our second child. Just the day before he had been telling me how tired he is of the hectic schedule that had temporarily descended on our family the last several weeks.
I thought of maternity clothes and weekly pictures and doctors appointments and birthing plans and redecorating a second nursery and getting more car seats and the newborn days that were so hard on me, on us, the crying and the uncertainty and the doubt and the tiptoeing around while baby girl slept. While I swam in these thoughts, gasping for air, he slept peacefully, not yet hit with the tidal wave of life change that was about to come his way.
What a different experience from the first time. If you know me, you know how determined I am. How goal-oriented. How stubborn. The first time, each negative test, month after month, brought about more determination, more single-mindedness. I had six months of wanting, of yearning. By the time those two lines showed up the first time, I was like a starving baby bird, mouth WIDE open, begging begging begging for the only food that would feed my hungry soul. When I saw those two lines the first time, I screamed, literally screamed, and jumped up and down and cried and hugged my husband and grinned so big and for so long that my cheeks were cramping by the end of the day.
This time. Oh, this time. This time we said, yes, let's do it, let's lean back back back into the unknown, and about fivesecondslater I turned around to have that same food pushed into my mouth. I hadn't had time to open my mouth wide yet. I hadn't had time to get hungry like last time. I didn't even know we could get pregnant right now. I say this not to discount the miracle that this is. I say this to explain, perhaps to myself, my own white face. It's one thing to find out you're pregnant when you've dreamed of it and wanted it and worked toward it. It's such a different experience to find out you're pregnant when you aren't expecting it. Even when you've decided you want it, even then you can still be caught off guard.
I abandoned any plans of cutesy ways of telling him. I needed him, I needed my best friend, to be in the water with me, telling me it would be okay. I picked up the test, turned on his bedside lamp, and climbed back in bed with him.
I put the test on his chest.
He fumbled around, finally picking it up and squinting at it.
And then he squinted again, a little bit closer.
Wait. What does this mean? he asked in a sleepy confusion.
I waited, saying nothing, my heart pounding in my ears (maybe that explains the rush of white noise in the shower?).
I felt like I couldn't breathe, waiting for his response. I could barely keep myself afloat at the moment, awash in a sea of ohmygod. I didn't know what I would do if he drowned, too. I didn't know if I could keep us both above water.
And then.
And then.
He smiled.
He smiled and my heart stopped racing. The white noise, the mosh pit of thoughts, everything settled.
Oh my God, Kel, He whispered, a wide grin breaking across his face. Congratulations, he said as he nuzzled into me.
And I smiled.
I hope you like being a daddy, I whispered back as he held me.
We both laughed.
After that there was more laughter. Most of it incredulous. Much of it was accompanied by head shaking and wide eyes. There were hugs. And gentle kisses on my stomach. When I woke my daughter for the day, when I held her as I listened to my husband tell her for the first time ever that she was going to be a big sister, I thought my heart was going to burst.
I am pregnant. Again.
I have no idea how far along I am. I have no idea when I'm due. Best as I can tell, based on my last period, it's sometime in mid-May. What a different experience this is already turning out to be than the first time, when I knew the exact day, the exact act, of conception.
But much the same, as well. Already I find myself smiling gently while my thoughts wander around the tiny life growing inside me. Already I find myself feeling happiness radiating through every pore in my skin. And of course, already I find myself worrying about that tiny life, too.
I called my doctor's office today. To find out what I should do, when I should come in. It felt surreal to be making that phone call again, to be scheduling those appointments again. I was once again awash in waves of "Is this really happening?" But what I realized is that those waves won't drown me. If I relax into them, breath deeply, I will actually float, borne along on the rise and fall of this new adventure. It's when I stiffen and panic that the sinking begins.
It is, as I knew it would be, about trust. Trust and courage. Trust that this second time will turn out as amazing as the first. Courage that we can do what we must to get there.
We are calling him/her "Dos."
Already I'm in love.
I took a pregnancy test two days ago.
It was kind of on a whim. I guess I was "late"--it was cycle day 35 and no sign of AF. I had been really moody, so I figured she was just running late this month, as she has done in months past. I had a day where I didn't really feel like eating anything. I attributed it to stress at work. I threw up Taco Bell for dinner. I attributed it to eating too fast. I ate ice cream for dinner. I attributed it to throwing up my earlier attempt. The next morning, I pulled out one of our five $1 HPTs. Why not? I thought. It's only a dollar. And seeing it be negative will stop all the little whispers in the back of my brain.
I honestly didn't give testing much thought. Yes, we'd looked at our finances and determined we could afford a second child. Yes, we'd talked about it at length and determined we wanted a second child. We had decided the time was right to start trying. We had had unprotected sex. But still, even then, there were so many unknowns. I didn't know when I had ovulated. I'm still breastfeeding baby girl, so my cervical fluid is affected (read: not really there very much at all). We hadn't had baby-making sex. We had had welcome-home-from-your-business-trip sex, oh-by-the-way-you-don't-have-to-pull-out-anymore-remember? sex. A while ago. I didn't even remember when. Life had been so hectic for us in the last couple of weeks, I honestly couldn't even remember when.
I peed. I put the test down and walked away. Curiosity got the best of me about five seconds later and I went back. My cursory glance showed a rapidly darkening control line and nothing else. I nodded, affirmed, and went to brush my teeth. Of course I'm not pregnant, I told myself. I'm still breastfeeding. We had unprotected sex like twice. Last time it took us six months of trying, of actively TRYING, of charting temps and OPKs and CM and CP. It's hard to get pregnant, remember? That's why we're starting to try now. So that hopefully we'll get somewhere in the next six months. I finished brushing my teeth, calmer, and went back to the test for the official read.
I picked it up.
And I almost dropped it.
There was not only one line.
There were two.
Two lines.
I would like to say that I stared intently, eyes boring into the test, burning a hole trying to tell if the line was real or not. But it really wasn't necessary. The two lines lay there, parallel, clear as day.
I walked out of the bathroom like a zombie. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I don't know that I've ever seen my face so white. (One day I'm going to look up the physiology of what causes your face to become ghostly white at a great shock. I mean, does your blood literally drain from your face?)
I put the test down on the counter and showered. I actually don't remember much of that shower. I'm pretty sure I washed my hair, but the entire time, my mind was a loud roar of white noise. I think that was my brain's way of protecting itself from the onslaught of thoughts that were racing around like a sudden mental mosh pit. What? When? How? REALLY? Whatthe-? REALLY? What are we going to do? How am I going to tell my boss? How are our parents going to react? How are our finances going to handle it? How is baby girl going to handle it? How am I going to handle it? REALLY???
I looked into that mosh pit from afar and plucked out a single thought, clinging to it in the deluge like a survivor clings to a life boat.
How am I going to tell TH?
He was still sleeping peacefully in bed five feet from where I stood. Just the day before he had been telling me about his mom urging us to wait another year or two before having our second child. Just the day before he had been telling me how tired he is of the hectic schedule that had temporarily descended on our family the last several weeks.
I thought of maternity clothes and weekly pictures and doctors appointments and birthing plans and redecorating a second nursery and getting more car seats and the newborn days that were so hard on me, on us, the crying and the uncertainty and the doubt and the tiptoeing around while baby girl slept. While I swam in these thoughts, gasping for air, he slept peacefully, not yet hit with the tidal wave of life change that was about to come his way.
What a different experience from the first time. If you know me, you know how determined I am. How goal-oriented. How stubborn. The first time, each negative test, month after month, brought about more determination, more single-mindedness. I had six months of wanting, of yearning. By the time those two lines showed up the first time, I was like a starving baby bird, mouth WIDE open, begging begging begging for the only food that would feed my hungry soul. When I saw those two lines the first time, I screamed, literally screamed, and jumped up and down and cried and hugged my husband and grinned so big and for so long that my cheeks were cramping by the end of the day.
This time. Oh, this time. This time we said, yes, let's do it, let's lean back back back into the unknown, and about fivesecondslater I turned around to have that same food pushed into my mouth. I hadn't had time to open my mouth wide yet. I hadn't had time to get hungry like last time. I didn't even know we could get pregnant right now. I say this not to discount the miracle that this is. I say this to explain, perhaps to myself, my own white face. It's one thing to find out you're pregnant when you've dreamed of it and wanted it and worked toward it. It's such a different experience to find out you're pregnant when you aren't expecting it. Even when you've decided you want it, even then you can still be caught off guard.
I abandoned any plans of cutesy ways of telling him. I needed him, I needed my best friend, to be in the water with me, telling me it would be okay. I picked up the test, turned on his bedside lamp, and climbed back in bed with him.
I put the test on his chest.
He fumbled around, finally picking it up and squinting at it.
And then he squinted again, a little bit closer.
Wait. What does this mean? he asked in a sleepy confusion.
I waited, saying nothing, my heart pounding in my ears (maybe that explains the rush of white noise in the shower?).
I felt like I couldn't breathe, waiting for his response. I could barely keep myself afloat at the moment, awash in a sea of ohmygod. I didn't know what I would do if he drowned, too. I didn't know if I could keep us both above water.
And then.
And then.
He smiled.
He smiled and my heart stopped racing. The white noise, the mosh pit of thoughts, everything settled.
Oh my God, Kel, He whispered, a wide grin breaking across his face. Congratulations, he said as he nuzzled into me.
And I smiled.
I hope you like being a daddy, I whispered back as he held me.
We both laughed.
After that there was more laughter. Most of it incredulous. Much of it was accompanied by head shaking and wide eyes. There were hugs. And gentle kisses on my stomach. When I woke my daughter for the day, when I held her as I listened to my husband tell her for the first time ever that she was going to be a big sister, I thought my heart was going to burst.
I am pregnant. Again.
I have no idea how far along I am. I have no idea when I'm due. Best as I can tell, based on my last period, it's sometime in mid-May. What a different experience this is already turning out to be than the first time, when I knew the exact day, the exact act, of conception.
But much the same, as well. Already I find myself smiling gently while my thoughts wander around the tiny life growing inside me. Already I find myself feeling happiness radiating through every pore in my skin. And of course, already I find myself worrying about that tiny life, too.
I called my doctor's office today. To find out what I should do, when I should come in. It felt surreal to be making that phone call again, to be scheduling those appointments again. I was once again awash in waves of "Is this really happening?" But what I realized is that those waves won't drown me. If I relax into them, breath deeply, I will actually float, borne along on the rise and fall of this new adventure. It's when I stiffen and panic that the sinking begins.
It is, as I knew it would be, about trust. Trust and courage. Trust that this second time will turn out as amazing as the first. Courage that we can do what we must to get there.
We are calling him/her "Dos."
Already I'm in love.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Holy crap that felt good!
You know that feeling you get, when you feel like pressure has been building building building behind something, growing steadily beyond any point of pre-assumed capacity, until it feels like you might explode or drown under the weight? And then that feeling when finally, FINALLY! there is some release, and all the weight and pressure that's been building is suddenly, blissfully gone and you feel, for the first time in you-can't-remember-how-long something you dazedly recognize as sweet relief?
Yeah, kind of like an orgasm. But let's not go there, dirty kids.
I'm pregnant. PREGNANT!!! I can shout it from the rooftops. Finally! Carrying that around as a secret felt wrong. It felt like it was something I should hide, something I shouldn't be sharing with people, and that is so discordant with how it should feel. And then yesterday, finally we had our first appointment, I saw the beautiful fluttering heartbeat, I felt my heart fall in love in a split second all over again, and I realized I could finally relax, could finally breathe, could finally share the news that deserved to be shared and celebrated.
And I can finally get back to blogging about it. Until now, I've only been able to write posts and save them as drafts. It was like a self-imposed writer's block that only contributed to that feeling of building pressure, of something in the way. So you'll see a bunch of back-logged posts. About finding out, about telling our families, about how different this second time around is than the first was. You'll be able to see the road we've walked this last month, the varying emotions we've had. I'm not embarrassed to publish those posts, even though I'm in such a different place today than I was even 4 short weeks ago. Today, the pressure is gone. Today I feel nothing but relief and joy and optimism and hope for our future. So when you go back and read, realize that you are witnessing the beginning of a journey, and as with all journeys, things change and grow and evolve.
A tiny little heart beats inside me. A tiny little life is nestled into my body. Already I love it. Already I adore it. Already I can't wait to see the joy it brings to our family.
Hooray for sweet release. Hooray for sweet relief.
Hooray for celebration!
Yeah, kind of like an orgasm. But let's not go there, dirty kids.
I'm pregnant. PREGNANT!!! I can shout it from the rooftops. Finally! Carrying that around as a secret felt wrong. It felt like it was something I should hide, something I shouldn't be sharing with people, and that is so discordant with how it should feel. And then yesterday, finally we had our first appointment, I saw the beautiful fluttering heartbeat, I felt my heart fall in love in a split second all over again, and I realized I could finally relax, could finally breathe, could finally share the news that deserved to be shared and celebrated.
And I can finally get back to blogging about it. Until now, I've only been able to write posts and save them as drafts. It was like a self-imposed writer's block that only contributed to that feeling of building pressure, of something in the way. So you'll see a bunch of back-logged posts. About finding out, about telling our families, about how different this second time around is than the first was. You'll be able to see the road we've walked this last month, the varying emotions we've had. I'm not embarrassed to publish those posts, even though I'm in such a different place today than I was even 4 short weeks ago. Today, the pressure is gone. Today I feel nothing but relief and joy and optimism and hope for our future. So when you go back and read, realize that you are witnessing the beginning of a journey, and as with all journeys, things change and grow and evolve.
A tiny little heart beats inside me. A tiny little life is nestled into my body. Already I love it. Already I adore it. Already I can't wait to see the joy it brings to our family.
Hooray for sweet release. Hooray for sweet relief.
Hooray for celebration!
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