Fear of the Unknown (And Perfume)

[Disclaimer:  If you don't care for vulnerable, open (aka: whiney, repetitive) pregnant-woman posts, you need not read on.]

We got out of the house today with Gigi's help, and mentally, that was good for all of us.  The fresh air was refreshing (original, I know).  And the perfume-stink at the mall was still as horrible as it always is.  Seriously, why retailers feel the need to scent their merchandise is beyond me.  It makes me nauseated and gives me a headache even when I'm not pregnant.  I sound like I'm doing well mentally, don't I?  Ha.

Just to clarify, the mall is not typically my choice as a fun outing location, especially since I have a wonderful two-year old side kick.  But he'd outgrown his almost new pair of tennis shoes, and the kid's foot is so wide that he gets the fancy shoes.  Gigi actually wanted to get him the shoes this time, and I didn't even fight her on it.  I just said "Thank you" a lot.  At the end of the experience we both concluded that neither of us could have successfully completed today's assignment alone.  Apparently it was worth getting off the sofa for a few hours.

But now, this evening is punishing me for having the gall to attempt to act like I felt "normal" today.  I almost lost my dinner making my way from the sofa to my bed, and I haven't done that at all with this pregnancy.  Yet.  Apparently I should say be saying "yet," because things just got a little too close for comfort.

Throwing up first thing in the morning is one thing.  I mean, it's gross, and horrible, and I hate it.  But there's not any food involved.  Throwing up in the evening.  Well, surely I don't have to explain that in detail.  And to be honest, throwing up for "the first trimester" is gross and horrible, but it sounds like a WONDERFUL alternative to how things went when I was pregnant with Spencer.  You see, you have to understand unending nausea for what it is.  A mind game.  An annoying, ever-present cloud.  But you've got no meteorologist.  You can't say, "Only two more weeks."  I tried that last time.  It didn't work.  I suppose you can say the ever-annoying (but nonetheless true) "Every pregnancy is different," phrase.  But that's not true for all people.  No, it's not.  Ask around.  If you have trouble finding some witnesses, ask me, I've got references.

Admittedly, this pregnancy has been different than my pregnancy with Spencer.  Mainly in degree.  And, when it became obvious that it was going a bit "better" than the one before it, I got a little optimistic that all this nausea nonsense would be over in no time.  Enter, the mind game called nausea.  If you feel a little better than last time, you should be doing more with your kid.  If you got out of the house today, you should get out of the house tomorrow.  If you'd take some medicine not created, intended, nor tested for pregnant women or fetuses you'd feel better.

You can see I have way too much time to think about it all.  Mostly thanks to the loving devotion of my sweet family members who rescue me on a daily, nigh hourly, basis.  Don't even get me started on how much time I have to think about the seventy plus pounds I gained with Spencer.  With every fork, spoon, and cupful of refined sugar and flour I waver between fighting the nausea and fighting the amazing propensity towards massive weight gain.

Please know I've been to infertility doctors.  I've had "trouble" getting pregnant.  I'm elated that God has chosen to bless us by entrusting children to our care.  But also know that doesn't make pregnancy any easier.  Truth be told, it just heaps on a little more guilt.  You can't just whine openly or share how you're really feeling because you know it could be heard or perceived incorrectly (not that that piece of rhetoric stops me much lately).

Every time we weren't pregnant with Spencer, I was really disappointed.  As there were more and more times that we weren't pregnant with Spencer, I worried it would never happen for us.  Each time we weren't pregnant this time around, I was relieved.  I know that is horrible to hear for lots of people.  I felt horrible feeling it.  Ha!  Talk about conflicted.  When we found out we were pregnant, I was excited and terrified.  And thankfully, it hasn't been as hard as I thought it was going to be.  But that's just because what I had to compare it to was pretty close to the worst case scenario.  (To put it in perspective, I was never hospitalized for dehydration when I was pregnant with Spencer mostly thanks to my mom (a nurse) who came over daily to force fluids and remind me of what would happen if I couldn't keep some down).

So, to sum up, if you have any pull with national retailers, tell them some people prefer the neutral smell of clean to some nasty perfume all over their textiles.  And being nauseated stinks--you can never trust the current trend.  You can have an "ok" day followed by "the worst day yet."  You never know when (or, in my case IF) it's going to end.  Or, even more unsettling, if it's going to come back.

Embarrassingly Poor Writing

Do not tell the husband of a pregnant woman there is no wait at your restaurant when in fact there is a 35 minute wait.  Crazy people.

When you're nauseated constantly for months at a time, it's really a mental battle.  And mentally, I'm weak. Truly.  I don't have a lot of mental "endurance."

Spencer brought me a chopstick the other day.  It was black, not cheap and platick-y.  I have NO idea from whence it came.  What in the world?

I've been throwing up less, but feeling just as bad.  I'm trying to see this as progress.  I'm hoping this pregnancy will be more "textbook" with the nausea ending with the first trimester.

My parents are graciously hosting Spencer as their overnight guest this evening.  Jonathan was going to get some things done at the house while I soaked in the silence and the luxury of being COMPLETELY still.  Instead, we held our friends' new born baby and then got dinner.  We're on fire.

You forget how precious newborns are.  They are just a warm, cuddly little bundle of goodness.  They should be for all the nonsense it takes to get one here.

The only time I care anything about real ice cream is when I'm pregnant.  I usually (and honestly) prefers Breyer's low carb chocolate "dairy dessert."  Right now it's Blue Bell's Banana Split.

Even when your entire family chips in to do all the things that you're supposed to be doing but can't because you feel so crummy, no one can make up for the fact that you aren't able to be Spencer's best mommy.  No one can make you feel better.

For some reason, I'm more curious regarding the gender of this baby.  I'm also seriously reconsidering any plans for future pregnancies.

I was pregnant with Spencer the summer that Kung Fu Panda came out in theaters, and I started calling "the baby" "Skadoosh."  I think it's funny that Kung Fu Panda II is coming out this summer.  That's not really funny to you?  Humor me, ok?  I'm pregnant and cranky.

I DID manage to take a shower today, and I took it a GIANT step further by blow drying my hair about an hour later.  I was pretty spent after the shower, I had to regroup.  It does look much better.  Now, if only I could start caring.

This may be the only writing I'm capable of until our next child is one year old.  Perhaps your comments-to-come will help make things interesting.

March Favorites: Ketchup, Ice, and Guitars

Only-Slightly-Little-Anymore Spencer,

It's cold and rainy.  And Elmo is about to be over for the day.  WHY Netflix won't include Elmo in their streaming options is quite a sore spot for me.   We need to cancel our "1 month trial" subscription anyway. It's been four months now.  

This particular morning, you have an uncharacteristically snotty little nose, and you're determined to be in my face.  However, you've been so sweet to play and talk and bounce solo quite a lot this past month and a half that I really shouldn't complain.  You're either really growing up or currently being emotionally damaged for life.  I know some children who I fear are being emotionally damaged for life, though, and your plight has very little in common with their own.  So, I'm hoping you're just well on your way to understanding what being a big brother and a part of a family is all about.

You refuse that you're hungry 98% of the time you're asked.  You currently LOUDLY and VIGOROUSLY protest having your diaper changed.  Wrestling my two year old to the ground to wipe his pooped bottom while trying not to throw up everywhere is killin' me, kid--and between Daddy, Gigi, and Natalie, I don't even have to do it that often.  I have the perfect solution--go in the potty!  You don't mind giving it a try every now and then, but you end up playing and wanting to run your hands all over the toilet seat, etc.  It's just disgusting.  Clearly, I've got a lot of maturing (or disinfecting) to do before we formally potty train you.  I'm thinking we pick a warm week this summer and just live outside.  I'm hoping we do that anyway based on the rate at which you can make the house look like a tornado hit.

You're persisting on the "Cutest Kid I've Known In My Life" list, and many others--related or not-- are quick to agree.  It really works for you.  As I type you are pulling all of our silverware out of the silverware drawer.  The drawer DOES have a child-lock on it.  And the child-lock is locked.  You just slide the utensils out of the small opening that occurs because of how we had to install the lock.  Money. Down. The. Drain.  

You fell about six weeks ago right on your face.  You weren't being rough or crazy or anything.  You just slipped.  You fell directly onto your two front teeth.  They were not loose, but they are rapidly turning grey.  Honestly, they look pretty gross.  I'm sure in a year or two you'll be proud.  They definitely "man" up your "look."

Your daddy came home last night and asked if you wanted to go play "Get you Get you" (tickling/wrestling/etc.) in your room.  You heartily agreed, and as you ran out of the living room, you looked straight at your Gigi who had come over to help out that afternoon and said, "Bye bye!!!"  She and I laughed and laughed.   Your tone seemed to suggest, "See you later, suckers!  And don't follow us--we don't want to hear your 'be careful' gasps the whole time!"  You're lovin' your daddy!

You have finally settled down enough to "dine out."  And while no one would watch and call taking you out "easy," it is certainly a complete turn around from the past two years.  As soon as we sit down, you start asking for ketchup, and you spend most of the evening eating ice.  Quirky child.  You have twice thrown your crayon halfway across the restaurant.  Here's an idea--how 'bout we stop handing you one.  It takes us a while to catch on.  You'll have to forgive your mother who cannot imagine that you don't have a secret, if latent, desire to draw and color. 

You went to your buddy Benjamin's 3rd Birthday Party on Saturday and had a grand old time.  You got to play outside, eat cake (exclusively), and narrate (in your own little way) as Ben opened his presents--you probably remembered him helping with yours in December and just wanted to return the favor.  You latched on to the guitar that Mr. Todd got Benjamin, and I do think I see one in your future.  It's the least I can do after hiding and consuming your M&M's party favor. 

I'm certainly not over-documenting these first few months of 2011.  I'm hoping Spring brings new, refreshing, non-nauseating feelings for me and lots of fun and outside adventures for you.

"May have Monday"

I may have stayed in bed long past acceptable "mommy" rising time thanks to my husband who stayed home this morning after being gone all weekend for work.  I may have dragged myself into the shower for the first time in a week.  I may have, yet again, turned a blind eye to the pieces of leaves, dirt, and other nonsense littering the floor around our carport door, gingerly tip-toeing for the sake of my newly-cleaned feet.  I may have forgone any sort of beauty regimen, only managing to brush my teeth and put on clothing appropriate for hosting any emergency personnel should the need arise.

I may have let my toddler proceed to peel and eat an entire banana while walking around our house.  He may have ground the last quarter of it into the carpet with his maverick-y little foot.  I may have disciplinarily punted, telling him, "We don't squish bananas into the carpet.  Next time, you're going get a spanking."  He may have not even cared.

I may have helped him with his shape sorter and laughed as he perfectionistically lined up every shape, utterly bereft whenever he was incapable of getting each specific groove of one shaped block to sit flush or be inserted into the groove or lack thereof of the shaped block he attempted to "lock into place" next to it.

I may have concluded this particular morning's audition for mother of the year by sweetly and calmly rocking my toddler for five or ten minutes and then laying him in his bed.  I may have been so naive as to think that he'd drifted off to sleep just in time to hear him calling me from underneath his doorway.  (He may have, of late, grown accustomed to a few curtain calls at nap and bed time.)  I may have decided that today was not his lucky day.  He may currently be asleep on the hardwood floor.

I know what you're thinking.  But there's one thing that could make sense of this whole, sad, pitiful morning of neglecting our home, my appearance, and some arguably pivotal child-rearing moments.

I may have something to announce.

I'm pregnant.

This post has been brought to you compliments of Emily's "Mayhave Monday" link up, and of course, my pregnancy hormones.

"Fun Friend?"

We have been snowed in.  We have been slightly sick.  And we are officially sick of being snowed in and sick.

Bright spot?  My sweet friend Emily paid me the ultimate compliment by asking me to write something for her blog series "Fun Friend Friday."  She likes to focus on "keepin' it real" by talking openly about issues and struggles and what to do (or not do) with them.  My post doesn't make me sound like a very "fun friend," but I did manage to keep it pretty real.

Thanks so much for the opportunity, Em!

http://keepinitdownanddirty.blogspot.com/2011/02/fun-friend-friday-lauren.html