It went on like a light bulb in my brain the minute she said it: "Why don't you just get a small storage unit so you can stop stressing?" Gee, thanks, Ma!
Truthfully, Rhett and I had talked about this a few weeks back but it felt silly for two people to have accumulated so much stuff that additional off-site square footage was required to keep it. But it's a necessity if we want to be able to store things we acquire for PB that won't be used everyday/right away.
We're completely maxed out at the moment. This townhouse has been great for two young people just starting out but adding a third person, not to mention a dog who thinks he's a real boy, means we're bursting at the seams. We have no basement, no useable garage because it's our substitute basement, and we've crammed as much as we possibly can into our meager closets so it's time to outsource this problem and get on with life. I don't like feeling as though my hands are tied and coming to the realization that we have other options has helped my mood tremendously.
I feel much better about the situation now that I've inquired into movers and local storage facilities. It doesn't seem quite as overwhelming, now that we don't have to conjure space out of midair. (Two nights of heartburn-induced wakefulness really didn't help the situation.) For a simple solution, it took me a while to see it. I've been wrapped up in coursework, planning out the summer of home improvement tasks and scheduling baby-related appointments/classes, as well as realizing that "summer" is going to be over so quickly, we won't know what hit us! I am so very thankful that student teaching is over and after my current courses are done in June, I only have two more courses this summer before taking a medical leave in September that will last until sweet, sweet January.
Now
that I've safely packed high school away for the time being, there is a
bit of a void. I miss those kids. I miss the
daily expectations of showing up at the school and being prepared, the
total, consuming work of teaching a roomful of teenagers with so much
energy and so many feelings that sometimes you wonder how they function. It was three months that I spent with them and now their lives go on, as does mine. I miss Chris. She was a fantastic CT. I miss having something to focus all my mental and physical faculties on; something that was rewarding and challenging and something I was confident would turn out well. I know I'm a good teacher. What I am not so sure about is if I am a "happy pregnant lady." I should be. Gosh, we have every reason in the world to be over the moon that our first FET was a success.
Now that I have more time to focus on being pregnant, it's almost alarming all over again to realize, oh yeah, we're actually having a baby. Much of the burden has been my extreme guilt over my emotional reticence to
get too attached to my son/daughter. I want to be absolutely in love with
this child before I give birth and I know deep down I am, though I try
my best to lock those feelings away in my fortress of solitude. It's scary to be faced with the constant unknown. I am
excited, in my own way, but I'm so very hesitant to celebrate for fear
that something unpredicted could turn up and ruin everything we've
worked so hard to achieve. I don't know how IVF couples do this repeatedly.
It's one thing to have the
photo of the tiny face and spine from 13.5 weeks but we go so long
between appointments that it's easy to forget there's a live human being
inside of me, doubly so since there's as yet no external evidence. And
if I'm being truly honest, I'm still holding my breath for the 20 week
anatomy scan. Yes, our chromosomal test results were normal but I want
the heart to be strong and healthy and all physiology to be intact.
In short, I just want to be a mother and I want Rhett to be a father. Period. It's so easy to get caught up in the gear and the process and what you think it will be like or comparing yourself (ill-advisedly) to other friends/family members. But it's not about any of that. It's about bringing someone who you've wanted desperately to meet, to life, and loving them more than you ever thought possible.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
MEGO
MEGO = "my eyes glaze over"
This handy little acronym was first introduced by a ruthless journalism professor and it's stuck with me ever since. I can't help but get a total case of the MEGO whenever I start looking at baby registry items online or in stores. Yes, shopping for miniature clothing and squishy, brightly colored toys is supposed to make your ovaries throb with longing but honestly? It gives me a migraine. So many choices! So many things that look exactly the same! Which brand is safest? Which one isn't made in China?
It's compounded by the fact that in-person, you're bombarded with rows of the same product in 42 different colors but it's still just plastic and fabric. There are seriously three shades of "red" for one brand of infant carrier and they all look the same to me. You would think the fabric designers might try to make the merchandize visually appealing, as well as structurally sound but that seems to be an afterthought for many of the leading brands. Bet you can't guess how many shades of taupe and putty are used for bouncers/baby swings!
Rhett and I laugh hysterically whenever we try to fold and unfold some of those damn strollers. We feel like baby boneheads and immediately chose the smallest, most compact infant system out there because neither one of us wants to be "those people" lugging the monstrosity of a stroller around. Don't get me started on the search for the perfect daddy diaper bag...ha! That was a comedy of errors. ("This looks like a purse." "This still looks like a giant purse." "I'm not wearing anything over my shoulder.") Eventually, it was Eddie Bauer to the rescue. Mine absolutely looks like a teacher bag so huzzah for multipurpose.
I have a vision in my mind of what I want in terms of furnishings. We're on the same page with aesthetics (gender neutral oranges, greens, grays and modern lines) but it's shocking to me how easy it is to get swept up in the "it's our first baby!" Mr. Moneybags mentality. It's even tougher because of what we went through to get to this point so I have a frequent reality check with myself when it comes to what I think is "reasonable" to spend. The bottom line is it's a 12x11 room and there's only so much you can cram in there.
Why does my dream crib cost as much as our new carpeting?! I really couldn't say. They're all the same when you strip it down: wood, non-toxic paint, bolts, adjustable levels of baby height. A crib is not going to be used forever. So no, this nursery is not going to be a designer baby boudoir and that's ok. PB will be safe and comfortable and probably overstimulated by the choice of paint hue but what matters is the thought and planning, not the price tag or the brand status.
We have learned some valuable lessons in our browsing: Anything Scandinavian is going to be outrageously expensive and sometimes even downright fugs. It's a fact. Anything and everything, it seems, can be labeled "organic" but what does that even mean? A mattress made from coconut fiber is superior because...why, exactly? And yes, I did spring for the Baby Bjorn cradle but that's because it has the lowest SIDS rating and you can see through the mesh sides. It's honestly not that attractive but it's also not a hideous beige like so many alternatives. The size and safety features are the selling point. I didn't want some giant, hulking bassinet taking up the entire floor space on my side of the bed. And that brings us to another issue: space.
Where will all of this baby swag go?
There's a creeping anxiety I start to feel whenever I'm momentarily satisfied by my informed shopping and that is "where on earth are we going to fit all this stuff?" Forget the cost of raising a child - how about the square footage required for having even just ONE?
This handy little acronym was first introduced by a ruthless journalism professor and it's stuck with me ever since. I can't help but get a total case of the MEGO whenever I start looking at baby registry items online or in stores. Yes, shopping for miniature clothing and squishy, brightly colored toys is supposed to make your ovaries throb with longing but honestly? It gives me a migraine. So many choices! So many things that look exactly the same! Which brand is safest? Which one isn't made in China?
It's compounded by the fact that in-person, you're bombarded with rows of the same product in 42 different colors but it's still just plastic and fabric. There are seriously three shades of "red" for one brand of infant carrier and they all look the same to me. You would think the fabric designers might try to make the merchandize visually appealing, as well as structurally sound but that seems to be an afterthought for many of the leading brands. Bet you can't guess how many shades of taupe and putty are used for bouncers/baby swings!
Rhett and I laugh hysterically whenever we try to fold and unfold some of those damn strollers. We feel like baby boneheads and immediately chose the smallest, most compact infant system out there because neither one of us wants to be "those people" lugging the monstrosity of a stroller around. Don't get me started on the search for the perfect daddy diaper bag...ha! That was a comedy of errors. ("This looks like a purse." "This still looks like a giant purse." "I'm not wearing anything over my shoulder.") Eventually, it was Eddie Bauer to the rescue. Mine absolutely looks like a teacher bag so huzzah for multipurpose.
I have a vision in my mind of what I want in terms of furnishings. We're on the same page with aesthetics (gender neutral oranges, greens, grays and modern lines) but it's shocking to me how easy it is to get swept up in the "it's our first baby!" Mr. Moneybags mentality. It's even tougher because of what we went through to get to this point so I have a frequent reality check with myself when it comes to what I think is "reasonable" to spend. The bottom line is it's a 12x11 room and there's only so much you can cram in there.
Why does my dream crib cost as much as our new carpeting?! I really couldn't say. They're all the same when you strip it down: wood, non-toxic paint, bolts, adjustable levels of baby height. A crib is not going to be used forever. So no, this nursery is not going to be a designer baby boudoir and that's ok. PB will be safe and comfortable and probably overstimulated by the choice of paint hue but what matters is the thought and planning, not the price tag or the brand status.
We have learned some valuable lessons in our browsing: Anything Scandinavian is going to be outrageously expensive and sometimes even downright fugs. It's a fact. Anything and everything, it seems, can be labeled "organic" but what does that even mean? A mattress made from coconut fiber is superior because...why, exactly? And yes, I did spring for the Baby Bjorn cradle but that's because it has the lowest SIDS rating and you can see through the mesh sides. It's honestly not that attractive but it's also not a hideous beige like so many alternatives. The size and safety features are the selling point. I didn't want some giant, hulking bassinet taking up the entire floor space on my side of the bed. And that brings us to another issue: space.
Where will all of this baby swag go?
There's a creeping anxiety I start to feel whenever I'm momentarily satisfied by my informed shopping and that is "where on earth are we going to fit all this stuff?" Forget the cost of raising a child - how about the square footage required for having even just ONE?
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
The Disappearing Bump
I'm 15 weeks and two days now. I got really excited on Saturday when it appeared my teeniest of bumps was for real this time but no, sadly, it appears to be mostly bloat.
I do blame my giant scar for impeding the emergence of an actual, discernible baby mound. (I should instead be celebrating my good genes, I suppose? My grandmother didn't show until 6 months with my mother!) I realize that while most women will "pop" - hate that word! - between 10-12 weeks, there is natural variation and some make it to 5 months or more without really looking pregnant. This is another lesson in everyone is different and there's no point comparing yourself to others.
Sometimes I wake up completely flat-bellied and then as the day wears on, there's a little pooch most likely attributed to the cheese or yogurt or anything, it seems, that I put in my mouth these days. The round ligaments stretching and swelling throughout the day also contributes to the, um, looseness by dinner time. I say a silent prayer each day that I do not develop diastasis recti. Google it if you're curious. :shudder:
On the bright side, I know PB is in there, now the size of an apple or a naval orange, because I can feel the very beginning of my uterus pushing out but this baby needs to do a bit more growing before its ready to greet the world and announce its presence.
I do blame my giant scar for impeding the emergence of an actual, discernible baby mound. (I should instead be celebrating my good genes, I suppose? My grandmother didn't show until 6 months with my mother!) I realize that while most women will "pop" - hate that word! - between 10-12 weeks, there is natural variation and some make it to 5 months or more without really looking pregnant. This is another lesson in everyone is different and there's no point comparing yourself to others.
Sometimes I wake up completely flat-bellied and then as the day wears on, there's a little pooch most likely attributed to the cheese or yogurt or anything, it seems, that I put in my mouth these days. The round ligaments stretching and swelling throughout the day also contributes to the, um, looseness by dinner time. I say a silent prayer each day that I do not develop diastasis recti. Google it if you're curious. :shudder:
On the bright side, I know PB is in there, now the size of an apple or a naval orange, because I can feel the very beginning of my uterus pushing out but this baby needs to do a bit more growing before its ready to greet the world and announce its presence.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Foodings
French onion soup. Everything bagels with plain cream cheese. Cobb salad. Amy's Mac n' Cheese. Root beer (sparingly.) Honey Nut Cheerios. Dreams of raw oysters and spicy tuna roll while having to settle for "cooked" sushi and going absolutely mad for Wegman's old-fashioned doughnuts.
Who is this carb hound? Do I know her?
These menu items have been my main cravings for "nourishing" PB. I can't really explain the source of most of these as I don't even like bagels or macaroni and cheese, particularly. I don't drink soda and I am not really a cereal person. But the carbs! They beckon for me to consume them in vast quantities.
Vegetables? Take a hike! I will eat some fruits though lately they've been a chief source of heartburn. Actually, most sugars/acids send me reaching for the TUMS. You'd think I'd just be like, "nah, I'm good" but I still eat some of these items, knowing how I'll feel after. Today, after resisting all of Easter, I had a nice portion of Amish coconut cake and guess what? The kid loved it. PB started squirming all over the place with the rush of unctuous coconut and frosting. I was almost down for the count after the reflux following that indulgence.
OK, body. You've had your fun. Now it's time to pack up all the junk and focus on healthy proteins and greens because I just can't anymore.
I have been trying to get PB to move in response to music, light and other sounds like our voices but this baby is resolutely food-response oriented. PB does enjoy yoga and sometimes flutters around in there during down dog but mostly, it's "Mama ate something delicious and I want MORE."
Who is this carb hound? Do I know her?
These menu items have been my main cravings for "nourishing" PB. I can't really explain the source of most of these as I don't even like bagels or macaroni and cheese, particularly. I don't drink soda and I am not really a cereal person. But the carbs! They beckon for me to consume them in vast quantities.
Vegetables? Take a hike! I will eat some fruits though lately they've been a chief source of heartburn. Actually, most sugars/acids send me reaching for the TUMS. You'd think I'd just be like, "nah, I'm good" but I still eat some of these items, knowing how I'll feel after. Today, after resisting all of Easter, I had a nice portion of Amish coconut cake and guess what? The kid loved it. PB started squirming all over the place with the rush of unctuous coconut and frosting. I was almost down for the count after the reflux following that indulgence.
OK, body. You've had your fun. Now it's time to pack up all the junk and focus on healthy proteins and greens because I just can't anymore.
I have been trying to get PB to move in response to music, light and other sounds like our voices but this baby is resolutely food-response oriented. PB does enjoy yoga and sometimes flutters around in there during down dog but mostly, it's "Mama ate something delicious and I want MORE."
Monday, April 14, 2014
Week 14
This is officially the start of the Second Trimester.
I feel like that song from "The Wizard of Oz" should be playing when Dorothy and Co. stumble out of the snowy poppies and get their first glimpse of the Emerald City. Even Toto's like "heck yeah, we made it!" trotting merrily alongside the quartet. I looked it up and the song is called "Optimistic Voices" so you can have a listen.
Everything feels so much better and brighter now that the dizziness and fatigue and headaches have gone away. I suspect getting the green light to take my Zyrtec has a lot to do with feeling peppier amongst the pollen. I'm back to yoga three days a week and that has helped me achieve, if not inner zen, increased flexibility and a ten minute "mat nap" during Savasana. I look forward to my time with the impressively bendy seniors in my classes and the other mother-to-be who is 7 months pregnant and still going strong.
Our 13 week scan went well. No risk factors from screening tests and the baby's heart rate is textbook. We've taken to calling her/him "PB" for Peanut Buster (a frequent, bizarre craving as it's been approximately 10 years since I've had said parfait and we do not live within 15 miles of a Dairy Queen) or Pumpkin Baby (take your pick) and have decided we're not going to share the gender if/when we find out for sure. There's so little suspense in this world as it is that we're neutral orange all the way!
Got to see PB riding the wave, flailing his or her arms around and turning somersaults. Here's the most recent ultrasound photo:
PB kept turning bum side up so that it was difficult to get a good look at the nuchal fold but eventually the tech poked around enough that PB became irritated and flipped back over. It was pretty hilarious. Watching PB was like watching those Thai shadow puppets moving in graceful slow motion on a screen. I still can't believe there's a baby the size of a lemon in there!
This week, I'm playing Bowie, Motown and Mozart to see where this kid's musical tastes lean in utero. I plan on exposing PB to as much of the "good stuff" as I can, in between chowing down on everything bagels with plain cream cheese. I don't even like bagels or cream cheese but PB certainly does! Oscar has quickly discovered that the cheese in the tub is still, in fact, cheese, so breakfast is now his favorite time to hover around the table.
I feel like that song from "The Wizard of Oz" should be playing when Dorothy and Co. stumble out of the snowy poppies and get their first glimpse of the Emerald City. Even Toto's like "heck yeah, we made it!" trotting merrily alongside the quartet. I looked it up and the song is called "Optimistic Voices" so you can have a listen.
Everything feels so much better and brighter now that the dizziness and fatigue and headaches have gone away. I suspect getting the green light to take my Zyrtec has a lot to do with feeling peppier amongst the pollen. I'm back to yoga three days a week and that has helped me achieve, if not inner zen, increased flexibility and a ten minute "mat nap" during Savasana. I look forward to my time with the impressively bendy seniors in my classes and the other mother-to-be who is 7 months pregnant and still going strong.
Our 13 week scan went well. No risk factors from screening tests and the baby's heart rate is textbook. We've taken to calling her/him "PB" for Peanut Buster (a frequent, bizarre craving as it's been approximately 10 years since I've had said parfait and we do not live within 15 miles of a Dairy Queen) or Pumpkin Baby (take your pick) and have decided we're not going to share the gender if/when we find out for sure. There's so little suspense in this world as it is that we're neutral orange all the way!
Got to see PB riding the wave, flailing his or her arms around and turning somersaults. Here's the most recent ultrasound photo:
PB kept turning bum side up so that it was difficult to get a good look at the nuchal fold but eventually the tech poked around enough that PB became irritated and flipped back over. It was pretty hilarious. Watching PB was like watching those Thai shadow puppets moving in graceful slow motion on a screen. I still can't believe there's a baby the size of a lemon in there!
This week, I'm playing Bowie, Motown and Mozart to see where this kid's musical tastes lean in utero. I plan on exposing PB to as much of the "good stuff" as I can, in between chowing down on everything bagels with plain cream cheese. I don't even like bagels or cream cheese but PB certainly does! Oscar has quickly discovered that the cheese in the tub is still, in fact, cheese, so breakfast is now his favorite time to hover around the table.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Angélique Marguerite Le Boursier du Coudray
No, that's not a potential name for our possibly-daughter.
Coudray was an 18th century midwife and anatomical doll pioneer, according to this.
How awesome is this?! I'm captivated. Now that we're in the second trimester, I've become deeply interested in the mechanics of how birth works and have quite the stack of somewhat helpful (and not so helpful) guides on my nightstand. Honestly, most of it seems like a no-brainer and I am astounded that the birth book industry continues to churn out facsimiles of the same literature without managing to say anything new. Haven't we been doing this for thousands of years without being told what to do? When it comes down to the big moment, I'm convinced that your body just takes over for your brain and it knows what to do, even if you forget.
Perhaps Coudray's method of demonstration via life-size model would be more beneficial to women today than endless birth and labor coaching and theory books about how you "should" deliver. Fabric wombs for all!
Coudray was an 18th century midwife and anatomical doll pioneer, according to this.
How awesome is this?! I'm captivated. Now that we're in the second trimester, I've become deeply interested in the mechanics of how birth works and have quite the stack of somewhat helpful (and not so helpful) guides on my nightstand. Honestly, most of it seems like a no-brainer and I am astounded that the birth book industry continues to churn out facsimiles of the same literature without managing to say anything new. Haven't we been doing this for thousands of years without being told what to do? When it comes down to the big moment, I'm convinced that your body just takes over for your brain and it knows what to do, even if you forget.
Perhaps Coudray's method of demonstration via life-size model would be more beneficial to women today than endless birth and labor coaching and theory books about how you "should" deliver. Fabric wombs for all!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)