At the end of the 21 day fix I was looking better than I've looked in years, feeling great and like I was unstoppable. Then, for no explicable reason... I stopped. Stopped caring about portions, stopped caring about balance, stopped exercising just....stopped. I have no reason for why, other than it is easier not to. I swore I'd never fall of the bandwagon again, but here I am, very much so off it.
And ready for a change. Again.
Last week I started tracking my food, trying to get an idea of where I'm at versus where I could be, and came in 2800 net calories above my weekly goal. Essentially, I ate for nine days and only lived seven. Well, no wonder I'm fat because that was me 'taking it easy' on the food. So here I am, full week one of 2015 and joining on the new year, new me bandwagon! It isn't easy...
Last night, I wanted to watch a couple of TV shows, relax before bed. That turned into entertaining the husband until the wee hours. My stomach was a mess in the night, interrupting my sleep. I get up late, throw on some clothes and wake up the kiddo who screams bloody murder at me for doing so. I tried to change his diaper, to which he started screaming "NO DIAPER, POTTY TRAIN" at me repeatedly. Sorry kid, but running late on a Monday morning is not the time to have this revelation. After some contortionism and my big boy voice I managed to wrangle the diaper closed. Only to have the same battle for socks and pants. Luckily, my roommate who I carpool with was there to help me get him in his pants while I held both of kid's arms above his head in one hand and his leg straight in the other. Then I had to bear hug him to stop him from ripping his pants off and hurry him to the car... where he screamed some more at me, kicked the door close multiple times and it required the two of us to get him into his car seat, where he immediately took of his socks and threw his milk on the ground. Yep, it's that kind of day. Work is pretty busy (writing this on a break, which is so needed). I go the restroom to realize my underwear are on backwards and inside out. What? No wonder they were feeling weird. Did I mention also that my DH got laid off, again, on Friday? So now we're completely out of money like always with no way to get ahead, on top of everything else.
At this point all I want to do is go home, curl up in bed, and eat my weight in potato chips and ice cream while binge watching some horrible reality TV and leaving the kid at daycare indefinitely.
I really, really, want to raid the candy bowl at reception. Also I think there are some doughnuts leftover in the break room. Is there such a thing as food rehab? I think I need it. Yet, I can guarantee beyond a shadow of a doubt I'd relapse immediately. Can anyone out there relate?
For now, I'll stay strong, drink my "slim rite" shake and a big glass of water and pretend that they will fill this hole inside of me. I've got to start working out again, so I joined Bikini Body Mommy, my intention to do her work out or one of the 21 day fix workouts every day for at least the next three months. Because obviously three weeks is NOT enough to form a lifelong habit, infomercial be damned. I'll keep tracking calories & workouts in My Fitness Pal and try to stay at a net 1200 calories a day.
Here. We. Go!
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Monday, January 5, 2015
Friday, August 22, 2014
{Girlytech on} having a two year old
Yesterday, August 22nd, 2014, my little turned two. Two! I can hardly believe it. It feels like just yesterday I was running to the hospital from my doctor's appointment in a panic to get induced. Yet, that was also a life time ago. I can barely remember that life without my sweet son in it. I pondered a lot after I got pregnant and then we both lost our jobs whether it was all worth it. I can answer now fairly certainly that yes, yes it was. It is. We struggle without that extra money, sure. But the money doesn't matter when you have a little boy crawl into your lap and wrap his arm around your neck. The only thing that has been a struggle has been our marriage. With the increased financial burden, the loss of ... certain marital activities, and the diminishing freedom that comes with having a child, the increase of strife and tension has also gone up dramatically. Especially since John, while now being Oliver's friend, still has a long way to go to parenthood.
I watched a video the other day about the taboos of parenthood, and a lot of it rang true. I figured I'd take a second to comment on those as well.
Taboo 1: You can't talk about how you didn't love your child from the very first moment.
I have to agree that this isn't the case. I didn't feel that oh my goodness love until several months later. I felt attachment and protection to him, absolutely, but I think I do fall more and more in love with Oliver every day. I hear people say all the time how they loved their child before they were born, or got smacked over the head with a bucket of overwhelming love. That just wasn't the case for me, it took me a while to get to know him in order to feel that love. And for John, I don't even think he's there even yet, affection yes, but not love.
Taboo 2: You can't talk about how lonely being a parent can be.
I know a lot of people whose relatives either offer to come stay with the new mom, or are there to help them out. This taboo isn't really for these people, but for those of us who didn't have that happen. I felt not only abandoned by community and family, but also didn't have a spouse who was willing to help. So here I was, with this teeny tiny baby, all by myself. This loneliness was amplified when I had to go back to work when Oliver was only four weeks old. No one does this. Most day care providers refuse to take a child under six weeks. It wasn't until this point that I really realized how separate from my family I am. I know that my parents ( grandparents whatever you want to call them) are there for me if shit hits the fan, but that's kind of it. I don't get invited to family vacations like my sisters do, I don't get invited to dinner or to have coffee. Oliver doesn't get invited to go and hang out with his family, no one volunteers to watch him, with the exception of one of my sisters a few times when he was sub a year old. I saw all these coworkers whose parents watched their kids during the day as they were retired, or a SAHM sister, etc. and I just didn't/don't have any of that. In addition, I didn't/don't have a spouse who is a parent. I am the one getting up with Oliver, I am the one changing the diapers, making his food, bathing him, reading to him, putting him to bed. It is still incredibly isolating and lonely. I just expected family to step up, I expected John to step up. Now that they haven't, I'm kind of over the day to day of it, but this doesn't reduce the loneliness.
Taboo 3: You can't talk about your miscarriage.
Luckily, I don't have any experience with this. I know that it happens a lot, 20% of the time. I have heard a lot of stories of people's miscarriages personally, so I'm not sure that this is accurate within my social construct. I think a lot of that probably has to do with a more generational thing.
Taboo 4: You can't say that your average happiness has declined since having a child.
I think that most people do though, yeah? Again this might be a generational or social group thing as well. I feel like most people and parents I encounter know and understand that being a parent is hard, it is work. It is a labor of love, that instead of earning you money costs you money, and in exuberant amounts. With just the child care costs from two months we could take a Jamaican vacation. And I have cheap child care compared to a lot of people. Now add on food, clothing, diapers, wipes, etc. etc. and you've got a black hole in your bank account. Sure, happiness isn't just related to money, but that is a huge part of it. The strain of being a mother alone in the world also definitely decreases overall happiness. However, as the video stated overall happiness is just a piece of the puzzle. Because my joy level? My highest highs? Out of this world, and like nothing someone without a child can understand. That break your heart make you cry happiness that comes from just the smallest of gestures. A giggle, a stroke of your hair, a new word or sentence. I cannot even imagine the joy of him writing his name for the first time, or riding a bike, or going to school. He is still so small and yet has brought me insurmountable happy moments.
My Oliver is laid back, he's easy going, and he's smart and curious and fun. He really is everything I imagined having a kid would be. Sure, he's puke all over everything at 2 am too, but if that's the price to pay, I'm gladly paying it. While I want him to have siblings, I'm personally hesitant due to not wanting a more difficult child. That's kind of selfish, but hey. Also, we wouldn't do that unless our financial situation changes dramatically, so for the foreseeable future our lovely Ol is an only child. Stubborn and hesitant to share, but ours all the same. I wouldn't have it any other way.
I watched a video the other day about the taboos of parenthood, and a lot of it rang true. I figured I'd take a second to comment on those as well.
Taboo 1: You can't talk about how you didn't love your child from the very first moment.
I have to agree that this isn't the case. I didn't feel that oh my goodness love until several months later. I felt attachment and protection to him, absolutely, but I think I do fall more and more in love with Oliver every day. I hear people say all the time how they loved their child before they were born, or got smacked over the head with a bucket of overwhelming love. That just wasn't the case for me, it took me a while to get to know him in order to feel that love. And for John, I don't even think he's there even yet, affection yes, but not love.
Taboo 2: You can't talk about how lonely being a parent can be.
I know a lot of people whose relatives either offer to come stay with the new mom, or are there to help them out. This taboo isn't really for these people, but for those of us who didn't have that happen. I felt not only abandoned by community and family, but also didn't have a spouse who was willing to help. So here I was, with this teeny tiny baby, all by myself. This loneliness was amplified when I had to go back to work when Oliver was only four weeks old. No one does this. Most day care providers refuse to take a child under six weeks. It wasn't until this point that I really realized how separate from my family I am. I know that my parents ( grandparents whatever you want to call them) are there for me if shit hits the fan, but that's kind of it. I don't get invited to family vacations like my sisters do, I don't get invited to dinner or to have coffee. Oliver doesn't get invited to go and hang out with his family, no one volunteers to watch him, with the exception of one of my sisters a few times when he was sub a year old. I saw all these coworkers whose parents watched their kids during the day as they were retired, or a SAHM sister, etc. and I just didn't/don't have any of that. In addition, I didn't/don't have a spouse who is a parent. I am the one getting up with Oliver, I am the one changing the diapers, making his food, bathing him, reading to him, putting him to bed. It is still incredibly isolating and lonely. I just expected family to step up, I expected John to step up. Now that they haven't, I'm kind of over the day to day of it, but this doesn't reduce the loneliness.
Taboo 3: You can't talk about your miscarriage.
Luckily, I don't have any experience with this. I know that it happens a lot, 20% of the time. I have heard a lot of stories of people's miscarriages personally, so I'm not sure that this is accurate within my social construct. I think a lot of that probably has to do with a more generational thing.
Taboo 4: You can't say that your average happiness has declined since having a child.
I think that most people do though, yeah? Again this might be a generational or social group thing as well. I feel like most people and parents I encounter know and understand that being a parent is hard, it is work. It is a labor of love, that instead of earning you money costs you money, and in exuberant amounts. With just the child care costs from two months we could take a Jamaican vacation. And I have cheap child care compared to a lot of people. Now add on food, clothing, diapers, wipes, etc. etc. and you've got a black hole in your bank account. Sure, happiness isn't just related to money, but that is a huge part of it. The strain of being a mother alone in the world also definitely decreases overall happiness. However, as the video stated overall happiness is just a piece of the puzzle. Because my joy level? My highest highs? Out of this world, and like nothing someone without a child can understand. That break your heart make you cry happiness that comes from just the smallest of gestures. A giggle, a stroke of your hair, a new word or sentence. I cannot even imagine the joy of him writing his name for the first time, or riding a bike, or going to school. He is still so small and yet has brought me insurmountable happy moments.
My Oliver is laid back, he's easy going, and he's smart and curious and fun. He really is everything I imagined having a kid would be. Sure, he's puke all over everything at 2 am too, but if that's the price to pay, I'm gladly paying it. While I want him to have siblings, I'm personally hesitant due to not wanting a more difficult child. That's kind of selfish, but hey. Also, we wouldn't do that unless our financial situation changes dramatically, so for the foreseeable future our lovely Ol is an only child. Stubborn and hesitant to share, but ours all the same. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
{Girlytech on} Motherhood Week One
A week gone in the blink of an eye! I have no idea where the days went, though I imagine the sleep/wake cycle of 2-3 hours sleep, 1 hour up rinsing and repeating probably has something to do with that. I keep getting asked how I'm adjusting... I'm not really sure how to respond because it doesn't feel like I've adjusted at all. So, I guess well? It feels like Oliver has always been here. Although, on the other hand, it feels like I have so much to learn. Trying to get into some formation of a routine seems impossible, but I know that it'll be best for all involved if we're able to make that happen. I'm not too worried about it now though. My main concern is keeping Oliver happy and putting some meat on his scrawny little bones. He's up 4 oz from where he was on his first appointment - so doctor's aren't worried about that. He seems to have picked up his appetite as well as he's no longer sleeping as long as I'll let him but is up just about at 2.5 hours on the dot from when I put him down.
As for me, I'm healing up. There are a lot of gross things postpartum that no one really tells you about... I'm feeling good emotionally as well, minus a few set backs..but we'll get to that. Johnathan went all papa bear on the bedroom getting it cleaned up, and we've got Oliver established in his micro nursery. We need to get the video surveillance system... I mean, baby monitor set up in there, but that's about it. In the meantime he gets to hang out with us downstairs if we're down there for extended periods of time. It's great to be back in my bed and able to fall asleep quicker - helps me snag a few more of those zzzs that have been eluding me.
I really am feeling like I do not want to go back to work... although it's only be a week, so we'll see how we feel in six more I suppose. My return to work date is currently set at October 8th. I can't bear the thought of leaving Oliver for a second, maybe he'll have worn me out by then. Not like I have much choice in the matter anyway. Gotta work to pay bills and buy food and that good stuff. While it's close, we're marginally better with me at work even with the additional costs incurred with child care, etc than with me staying home. Just barely. But boy oh boy looking into that little man's face I'll do whatever I can to give him the best life possible.
It amazes me how people can be cruel to their children. I mean, it always has. I feel bad complaining or making reference to that abuse that happened in my home when I know that so many people, my husband of which included, had it so much, much, epically worse. But that's my reference point in my own life. As a child I failed to comprehend why these things were happening to me. I couldn't grasp it. Now it seems even more completely abstract. I don't know if people are born evil, maybe the stresses of the world get to them, maybe having a child is too much to bear... but there's no part of my being that could ever fathom hurting Oliver with the intention to do so. No way. He's precious and he's mine. I couldn't imagine beating him because he didn't want to finish his dinner or because he forgot to put a brush back in the bathroom when he was done using it, or holding him at gun point at the kitchen table. How those justifications, among the hundreds of others were made in my father's mind I'll never know.
Which brings us to a transition to add in the emotional low point of the past week. I was trolling around on Facebook and noticed my brother had commented on our relative's picture. Every once in a while I like to check in on the brother, make sure he's doing okay, etc. So I visited his page, and noticed a friend of his had commented he was going to be in Oregon soon. I thought that my brother was still doing is Air Force bit, so I hadn't let him know about Oliver or been in touch with him in a while. So I sent him a text letting him know that he was an uncle and that he could come visit whenever he'd like to. In response to that, I got a Facebook message from my "father" threatening me. It's so unfortunate that my little brother, though technically a man, is still controlled by such an abusive and hateful person. I guess I lost contact there with the brother while I was figuring out my own life. I saw him when he was a freshman in high school, we went to lunch a few times. He was going to come to the wedding, so everything was good there - although my "parents" intervened and prevented him from doing so. I'm not sure what happened in the last two years, but something must have because I received a response of "fuck you cunt" to my text the next day. So, either some major brainwashing activities occurred in the last couple of years, or my father has control of Alex's phone... either way that definitely struck a cord. My largest regret of my life was not fighting to take Alex with me when I was removed from my childhood home. I'm not sure why DHS found that I was okay to leave and he was not... but we were both getting beat around. My mother would generally step in front of blows for my brother and not for me, and perhaps that was why at the time, I didn't fight for him. I was a child, and hurt, and selfish. It is what is though, however unfortunate and there is no changing the past.
It's less confusing for Oliver this way anyway, I guess. He doesn't need to know about all that happened, although I'm sure one day I'll tell him. I imagine that we'll have to go over it, how our family tree double backs up over itself. Or why I call his aunts my aunts and some of his cousins my nephews and nieces and others my cousins. I'd like to have a giant family meeting and tell everyone that I am the daughter of William and Leona as much as anyone else... but old habits die hard and I keep calling them grandma and grandpa anyway. Which makes things really interesting like in the hospital they asked who they were and I said my parents & nephews and then I'm calling them grandma and grandpa. I guess it works out since that's what they were becoming all over again, but still weird. It's been almost a decade since I became their daughter. I think the adoption was finalized in April of 2003. Time flies. Maybe when I've been their daughter for longer than I was their granddaughter, I'll be accepted by all as such. That's still four and some years off though.
Well, that's about it for the past week. Pumping and feeding, burping and changing, finally understanding why all those moms I know are doing laundry constantly...
Till next time.
As for me, I'm healing up. There are a lot of gross things postpartum that no one really tells you about... I'm feeling good emotionally as well, minus a few set backs..but we'll get to that. Johnathan went all papa bear on the bedroom getting it cleaned up, and we've got Oliver established in his micro nursery. We need to get the video surveillance system... I mean, baby monitor set up in there, but that's about it. In the meantime he gets to hang out with us downstairs if we're down there for extended periods of time. It's great to be back in my bed and able to fall asleep quicker - helps me snag a few more of those zzzs that have been eluding me.
I really am feeling like I do not want to go back to work... although it's only be a week, so we'll see how we feel in six more I suppose. My return to work date is currently set at October 8th. I can't bear the thought of leaving Oliver for a second, maybe he'll have worn me out by then. Not like I have much choice in the matter anyway. Gotta work to pay bills and buy food and that good stuff. While it's close, we're marginally better with me at work even with the additional costs incurred with child care, etc than with me staying home. Just barely. But boy oh boy looking into that little man's face I'll do whatever I can to give him the best life possible.
It amazes me how people can be cruel to their children. I mean, it always has. I feel bad complaining or making reference to that abuse that happened in my home when I know that so many people, my husband of which included, had it so much, much, epically worse. But that's my reference point in my own life. As a child I failed to comprehend why these things were happening to me. I couldn't grasp it. Now it seems even more completely abstract. I don't know if people are born evil, maybe the stresses of the world get to them, maybe having a child is too much to bear... but there's no part of my being that could ever fathom hurting Oliver with the intention to do so. No way. He's precious and he's mine. I couldn't imagine beating him because he didn't want to finish his dinner or because he forgot to put a brush back in the bathroom when he was done using it, or holding him at gun point at the kitchen table. How those justifications, among the hundreds of others were made in my father's mind I'll never know.
Which brings us to a transition to add in the emotional low point of the past week. I was trolling around on Facebook and noticed my brother had commented on our relative's picture. Every once in a while I like to check in on the brother, make sure he's doing okay, etc. So I visited his page, and noticed a friend of his had commented he was going to be in Oregon soon. I thought that my brother was still doing is Air Force bit, so I hadn't let him know about Oliver or been in touch with him in a while. So I sent him a text letting him know that he was an uncle and that he could come visit whenever he'd like to. In response to that, I got a Facebook message from my "father" threatening me. It's so unfortunate that my little brother, though technically a man, is still controlled by such an abusive and hateful person. I guess I lost contact there with the brother while I was figuring out my own life. I saw him when he was a freshman in high school, we went to lunch a few times. He was going to come to the wedding, so everything was good there - although my "parents" intervened and prevented him from doing so. I'm not sure what happened in the last two years, but something must have because I received a response of "fuck you cunt" to my text the next day. So, either some major brainwashing activities occurred in the last couple of years, or my father has control of Alex's phone... either way that definitely struck a cord. My largest regret of my life was not fighting to take Alex with me when I was removed from my childhood home. I'm not sure why DHS found that I was okay to leave and he was not... but we were both getting beat around. My mother would generally step in front of blows for my brother and not for me, and perhaps that was why at the time, I didn't fight for him. I was a child, and hurt, and selfish. It is what is though, however unfortunate and there is no changing the past.
It's less confusing for Oliver this way anyway, I guess. He doesn't need to know about all that happened, although I'm sure one day I'll tell him. I imagine that we'll have to go over it, how our family tree double backs up over itself. Or why I call his aunts my aunts and some of his cousins my nephews and nieces and others my cousins. I'd like to have a giant family meeting and tell everyone that I am the daughter of William and Leona as much as anyone else... but old habits die hard and I keep calling them grandma and grandpa anyway. Which makes things really interesting like in the hospital they asked who they were and I said my parents & nephews and then I'm calling them grandma and grandpa. I guess it works out since that's what they were becoming all over again, but still weird. It's been almost a decade since I became their daughter. I think the adoption was finalized in April of 2003. Time flies. Maybe when I've been their daughter for longer than I was their granddaughter, I'll be accepted by all as such. That's still four and some years off though.
Well, that's about it for the past week. Pumping and feeding, burping and changing, finally understanding why all those moms I know are doing laundry constantly...
Till next time.
Friday, August 24, 2012
3 days in...
Things you never thought you'd say until you have a baby... "Woo! We have poop!"
Poor little Oliver is having some issues feeding. I wonder about what they did for such things 100 years ago. I guess hand expressed and funneled it on down? Now we've got nipple shields and pumps and all kinds of things to help babies get the good stuff. Not to mention formula if they can't for whatever reason do so. Stupid nipples. As he's having such trouble I'm under instruction to feed the hell out of him this weekend (meaning pump and bottle feed instead of trying to rely on nursing alone) and I'm scheduled for another appointment at noon on Monday to check on his status and make sure he's regained his weight.
Other than that which has caused quite the stress all around, everything seems to be going smoothly. He sleeps so much it's not like there's much to do but set an alarm for every few hours, check his diaper, try and get him to eat, cuddle him, back to bed. Sleep when I'm sleepy, internets when I'm not. I've been pretty exhausted, go figure, and very sore from head to foot. Almost like I did a lot of work or something.
John is reacting to things about the way he said he would. No one believed him, not even me, and I married him... So here we are with John holding him only when necessary and/or to fake being human. He doesn't want to hold him or rock him or even stroke his head or kiss his adorable cheeks. Essentially, as far as parenting goes, at this stage I'm on my own. I think John feels bad though, which I guess is a good thing. He's being extremely supportive of me, making sure I have plenty to eat/drink, running errands, cleaning the house, doing laundry and coming to the appointments with me... I'm actually pretty worried about Monday when he's back to work and I have to face things on my own.
As for me, I feel... I'm not sure exactly. I love holding him and smelling him and cuddling and just looking at him. I get upset when he's upset, especially when it's due to someone else's intervention - like the doctors checking him out. I think I'm in a little over my head though, and no amount of knowledge can fix it. Perhaps that's the issue in the first place. For me, it's all very clinical almost. Step A, B, C. Everything you're supposed to do at this stage in development is pretty universally agreed upon (except for baby lotion, apparently) and so it's just following the guide books and calling it good. I imagine once there's play and choices in his upbringing and care it'll be different. What's best for Oliver, as opposed to what's best for baby.
I think that's what's led me to giving up the cats, knowing that it's best. The four of us in one small room isn't going to be healthy, especially when I'm sore and having issues just waddling around the house and putting on pants. Thank goodness our God mother's mom (God grandma?) is going to take them in. I'm not sure if she's doing it because she actually wants more kitties or as a favor to us, but...either way it works for me. She'll be able to provide them with a clean and safe home, take care of them, and give them plenty of love. Maybe if John turns into a real boy we can wiggle them back if she hasn't grown too attached. Here's hoping. Not likely unfortunately, but at least this way they're not going to some stranger on Craigslist or someone we'll never see. Have I mentioned that along with being the best God mother ever, Melissa also comes with an awesome mom herself? Seriously, this family creation you guys...it's kind of unreal. Violet (Melissa & Josh's unborn daughter) is without a doubt going to be the most lucky kid out there.
Anyway, that's where we're at. Getting to know Oliver as he gets to know me. Hopefully he'll also get a chance soon to know his dad. You think the fact that Oliver is a John clone and so very his son (Mongolian spot and all) that there'd be something. . . Oh well, live and learn.
Thanks to all our visitors, and if anyone is planning on coming and wants to know what to bring us, we're pretty set on newborn clothes and the like. Dinners we can just reheat would be nice, and diapers are always in need :) Thanks for all the congratulations and support. I can't imagine trying to have done this all on our own.
Poor little Oliver is having some issues feeding. I wonder about what they did for such things 100 years ago. I guess hand expressed and funneled it on down? Now we've got nipple shields and pumps and all kinds of things to help babies get the good stuff. Not to mention formula if they can't for whatever reason do so. Stupid nipples. As he's having such trouble I'm under instruction to feed the hell out of him this weekend (meaning pump and bottle feed instead of trying to rely on nursing alone) and I'm scheduled for another appointment at noon on Monday to check on his status and make sure he's regained his weight.
Other than that which has caused quite the stress all around, everything seems to be going smoothly. He sleeps so much it's not like there's much to do but set an alarm for every few hours, check his diaper, try and get him to eat, cuddle him, back to bed. Sleep when I'm sleepy, internets when I'm not. I've been pretty exhausted, go figure, and very sore from head to foot. Almost like I did a lot of work or something.
John is reacting to things about the way he said he would. No one believed him, not even me, and I married him... So here we are with John holding him only when necessary and/or to fake being human. He doesn't want to hold him or rock him or even stroke his head or kiss his adorable cheeks. Essentially, as far as parenting goes, at this stage I'm on my own. I think John feels bad though, which I guess is a good thing. He's being extremely supportive of me, making sure I have plenty to eat/drink, running errands, cleaning the house, doing laundry and coming to the appointments with me... I'm actually pretty worried about Monday when he's back to work and I have to face things on my own.
As for me, I feel... I'm not sure exactly. I love holding him and smelling him and cuddling and just looking at him. I get upset when he's upset, especially when it's due to someone else's intervention - like the doctors checking him out. I think I'm in a little over my head though, and no amount of knowledge can fix it. Perhaps that's the issue in the first place. For me, it's all very clinical almost. Step A, B, C. Everything you're supposed to do at this stage in development is pretty universally agreed upon (except for baby lotion, apparently) and so it's just following the guide books and calling it good. I imagine once there's play and choices in his upbringing and care it'll be different. What's best for Oliver, as opposed to what's best for baby.
I think that's what's led me to giving up the cats, knowing that it's best. The four of us in one small room isn't going to be healthy, especially when I'm sore and having issues just waddling around the house and putting on pants. Thank goodness our God mother's mom (God grandma?) is going to take them in. I'm not sure if she's doing it because she actually wants more kitties or as a favor to us, but...either way it works for me. She'll be able to provide them with a clean and safe home, take care of them, and give them plenty of love. Maybe if John turns into a real boy we can wiggle them back if she hasn't grown too attached. Here's hoping. Not likely unfortunately, but at least this way they're not going to some stranger on Craigslist or someone we'll never see. Have I mentioned that along with being the best God mother ever, Melissa also comes with an awesome mom herself? Seriously, this family creation you guys...it's kind of unreal. Violet (Melissa & Josh's unborn daughter) is without a doubt going to be the most lucky kid out there.
Anyway, that's where we're at. Getting to know Oliver as he gets to know me. Hopefully he'll also get a chance soon to know his dad. You think the fact that Oliver is a John clone and so very his son (Mongolian spot and all) that there'd be something. . . Oh well, live and learn.
Thanks to all our visitors, and if anyone is planning on coming and wants to know what to bring us, we're pretty set on newborn clothes and the like. Dinners we can just reheat would be nice, and diapers are always in need :) Thanks for all the congratulations and support. I can't imagine trying to have done this all on our own.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
{Girlytech feels} Blessed
Friday, Saturday, Sunday ... "fake" labor pains. Annoying, but nothing unusual.
Monday morning contractions were 10 minutes apart for 2 hours so I figured this was it as per my literature from my doctor but, they said to be at home, take a nap and wait until they were 5 minutes apart for an hour. So I took a nap, woke up and... no more contractions. I figured that 2.5 hours at work weren't really worth it so I ate some lunch and went back to sleep until I needed to leave for my regularly scheduled doctor's appointment. There, I had more protein in the urine (a reoccurring issue) and high blood pressure (noticed at the last appointment as well) so Dr. Lim suggested doing a 24 hour urine collection to make sure that there was no preeclampsia as those are the symptoms for that infection. Then she measured his heart rate and measured me and... 32cm when I was 36 the week before and should be at 38 or so. So, no good. She called in for an ultrasound machine and noticed that there was very little fluid surrounding him. No cushion for him = no good so... to the hospital you go! She scared me a bit with her saying there was no time to go home to get our go bags or anything just to go straight there.
We got to the hospital at about 2:30 or so and got checked in and shown our room. There were apparently a lot of babies being born and everyone was super busy so it took a while to get the order put in for the induction. They went with something to 'ripen' the cervix first before stimulating contractions. Once they got that in at 5:00 I started having contractions all on my own. At first I rated them at a .5 on the pain scale, and then an hour later they were at a 5 and they just went up from there. They were scheduled to give me another pill for cervix at 8pm, but as my contractions were 2 minutes apart at that point and I was 4cm dialated, they decided to wait another hour and see what was up. A bit before 9pm the contractions got very, very painful and I was having a hard time breathing through them, it was nearly impossible without John applying counter pressure. I got a dose of Fetenol, which took the edge off... for a while. The grandparents arrived as contractions were super painful and piling on top of each other. I was having a real issue with the pain and coping mechanisms... they just weren't working. I tried to hold out, but nope, I got an epidural and let me you tell you I would kiss the person on the mouth that invented that magical spinal contraption. It was a little uncomfortable at first and totally not pleasant going in, but oh my goodness that relief. I fell into a twilight from 4cm to 10cm over the next few hours as they gave me the Picotin to help stregnthen contractions (because apparently oh my God worst pain wasn't strong enough). The midwife came in to see how things were going at 2am or so and I was feeling a ton and a half of pressure... Turns out that what little water I had left had broken without me even knowing, I was fully dilated and effaced and it was time to get going on the pushing.
Yeah... that was an event. I don't remember screaming or crying...but apparently I did. All I remember is it was so much work and it felt like everything down there was both ripping apart and turning inside out. Yeah.... 28 minutes later, at 2:40am, I had my son in my arms. We had an hour of skin to skin goodness before they took him for analysis, Vitamin K, and a bath. And...noticed he had pooped all over me. Everything from the waist to breast was covered, my hands, arms.... it was a mess. But apparently a sterile one. Once everyone was cleaned up I got my hands on a sandwich and some OJ and we got transferred to our post partum room. Nothing much of note, he was running a bit cooler than he should have been so we did some more good time snuggling...but they did end up having to take him and stick him under the incubator.
Thank God for godparents! Melissa was there a lot during the time we were in the hospital. She brought me a robe and nursing top, additional bathroom supplies, presents, candy for the nurses, and kept Johnathan with food in his belly. I don't know how we would have carried on without her. Seriously not sure how I can repay her. I guess she gets the baby and the money if John and I die, lol. Josh and Melissa are seriously the best friends and most selfless people, we got lucky as all hell that we met them.
But yeah, that's about it.
Oliver Alexander Addison. 20.5" and 6lbs 7oz. with a 12.5" head was born 8/21/12 at 2:40 in the morning with his grandparents and papa to greet him.
All because two people fell in love.
Monday morning contractions were 10 minutes apart for 2 hours so I figured this was it as per my literature from my doctor but, they said to be at home, take a nap and wait until they were 5 minutes apart for an hour. So I took a nap, woke up and... no more contractions. I figured that 2.5 hours at work weren't really worth it so I ate some lunch and went back to sleep until I needed to leave for my regularly scheduled doctor's appointment. There, I had more protein in the urine (a reoccurring issue) and high blood pressure (noticed at the last appointment as well) so Dr. Lim suggested doing a 24 hour urine collection to make sure that there was no preeclampsia as those are the symptoms for that infection. Then she measured his heart rate and measured me and... 32cm when I was 36 the week before and should be at 38 or so. So, no good. She called in for an ultrasound machine and noticed that there was very little fluid surrounding him. No cushion for him = no good so... to the hospital you go! She scared me a bit with her saying there was no time to go home to get our go bags or anything just to go straight there.
We got to the hospital at about 2:30 or so and got checked in and shown our room. There were apparently a lot of babies being born and everyone was super busy so it took a while to get the order put in for the induction. They went with something to 'ripen' the cervix first before stimulating contractions. Once they got that in at 5:00 I started having contractions all on my own. At first I rated them at a .5 on the pain scale, and then an hour later they were at a 5 and they just went up from there. They were scheduled to give me another pill for cervix at 8pm, but as my contractions were 2 minutes apart at that point and I was 4cm dialated, they decided to wait another hour and see what was up. A bit before 9pm the contractions got very, very painful and I was having a hard time breathing through them, it was nearly impossible without John applying counter pressure. I got a dose of Fetenol, which took the edge off... for a while. The grandparents arrived as contractions were super painful and piling on top of each other. I was having a real issue with the pain and coping mechanisms... they just weren't working. I tried to hold out, but nope, I got an epidural and let me you tell you I would kiss the person on the mouth that invented that magical spinal contraption. It was a little uncomfortable at first and totally not pleasant going in, but oh my goodness that relief. I fell into a twilight from 4cm to 10cm over the next few hours as they gave me the Picotin to help stregnthen contractions (because apparently oh my God worst pain wasn't strong enough). The midwife came in to see how things were going at 2am or so and I was feeling a ton and a half of pressure... Turns out that what little water I had left had broken without me even knowing, I was fully dilated and effaced and it was time to get going on the pushing.
Yeah... that was an event. I don't remember screaming or crying...but apparently I did. All I remember is it was so much work and it felt like everything down there was both ripping apart and turning inside out. Yeah.... 28 minutes later, at 2:40am, I had my son in my arms. We had an hour of skin to skin goodness before they took him for analysis, Vitamin K, and a bath. And...noticed he had pooped all over me. Everything from the waist to breast was covered, my hands, arms.... it was a mess. But apparently a sterile one. Once everyone was cleaned up I got my hands on a sandwich and some OJ and we got transferred to our post partum room. Nothing much of note, he was running a bit cooler than he should have been so we did some more good time snuggling...but they did end up having to take him and stick him under the incubator.
Thank God for godparents! Melissa was there a lot during the time we were in the hospital. She brought me a robe and nursing top, additional bathroom supplies, presents, candy for the nurses, and kept Johnathan with food in his belly. I don't know how we would have carried on without her. Seriously not sure how I can repay her. I guess she gets the baby and the money if John and I die, lol. Josh and Melissa are seriously the best friends and most selfless people, we got lucky as all hell that we met them.
But yeah, that's about it.
Oliver Alexander Addison. 20.5" and 6lbs 7oz. with a 12.5" head was born 8/21/12 at 2:40 in the morning with his grandparents and papa to greet him.
All because two people fell in love.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Impending Labor
Oh yes, it's coming. There's nothing I can do about it either.
Birth plan has been written.
Still need to pack a bag...but...
My joints are softer. Oliver's head down and dropped. I'm dilated, effaced, and losing bits of mucus plug. Yes, it's gross. I can feel myself dilating more (I think...something scratchy is going on down there). I've got Braxton Hicks like there's no tomorrow, tiny twinges of cramping, tons of downward pressure, and the tummy of someone who just ate a pound of crazy Indian food. I'm irritable beyond belief, can't focus on anything other than all that's going on internally, and today I've started sweating like I'm sitting in the sun. All that's left is the "bloody show" and my water breaking to really seal the deal. I may need to try out all those old wive's tails of inducing if he doesn't make his way out soon, this is not a very comfortable predicament to be in.
So yeah....that's what's up in Stephanie Land.
Birth plan has been written.
Still need to pack a bag...but...
My joints are softer. Oliver's head down and dropped. I'm dilated, effaced, and losing bits of mucus plug. Yes, it's gross. I can feel myself dilating more (I think...something scratchy is going on down there). I've got Braxton Hicks like there's no tomorrow, tiny twinges of cramping, tons of downward pressure, and the tummy of someone who just ate a pound of crazy Indian food. I'm irritable beyond belief, can't focus on anything other than all that's going on internally, and today I've started sweating like I'm sitting in the sun. All that's left is the "bloody show" and my water breaking to really seal the deal. I may need to try out all those old wive's tails of inducing if he doesn't make his way out soon, this is not a very comfortable predicament to be in.
So yeah....that's what's up in Stephanie Land.
Friday, July 6, 2012
49 days to go!
Sometime between 4 and 9 weeks from right now, Oliver will be born. I feel ... terrified. I thought that the birth wouldn't be a big deal, I mean I've got the basics of breathing down, I've researched for hours... Now as we're closing in I'm thinking holy shit I should have taken a real class, not just an online class but a real practice and ask questions and learn more class. So I go to find one and they're pretty much all full and the ones that are available will be ending right at D-Day and so who knows if I'll even get to finish. So, I'm worried about the actual physical having him.
Then I've got 6 weeks or so off of work, unpaid. Which means that only the most essential of things will be able to be paid. Let's hope we're at least caught up by then. Then we've got $400 a month in child care, $100 in diapers+wipes, thank God breastfeeding is healthier than formula! One of our roommates is moving out, which is a good thing, but it also will up our rent. Then there's the actual medical bills... oi! And our food stamps expire this month and we make too much to renew.
I have to figure out how to breastfeed, pump at work and store the milk, get a sleeping cycle down, manage the finances... I think the weight issue will either just shed away like nothing... or go no where as I down twelve pounds of chocolate a day to keep the stress at bay. Then there's the John gets freaked out by babies and can't stand the crying issue... which is a whole other thing on it's own. Although from talking with other gents on the subject, apparently it's a D-day miracle that turns them from scared boys into fathers. We shall see.
I've never had a child, so I can't say whether or not I'll want another one. I can say that I don't really think I'd want to go through this again. I think if I get that idea in my head maybe I'll come back and read through this and go "oh, let's just adopt." I mean, with the giant-ness, swollen feet, nausea, heartburn, constipation&diarrhea, hemorrhoids, complete loss of sex drive, having to pee every five seconds, missing so much work with doctor's appointments, being exhausted all the time, stretch marks surrounding my entire torso, and having to keep reminding everyone "slow and steady wins the race" when walking in groups, when we all know that's not true. So there...future self contemplating making more babies, take that into consideration. Nine months of it.
There of course, is the other side of the coin. The I can't wait to meet my little angel side. The I've wanted a child since I was a child and here so soon I can taste it I'll have one. Each week seems to be shorter and shorter than the last, though I've heard the last few take ages. I can imagine that. I'm already become anxious to see him, to hold him. I want to set up everything, wash his clothes and bottles and get everything in its right place but I'm postponing because I know as soon as it's totally ready for him I'll want him to show up. As long as everything is still boxed and bagged and ready but not quite then it still feels like it's a ways off, like he's still brewing. He very much so is, of course.
He's only four pounds and seventeen inches. Not quite plump enough yet, as he'll be about 6.3 pounds when first considered full term and around 7.5 pounds and 20 inches on his due date. My own birth came at the 35 week mark, so I'm slightly nervous of that date, only two weeks away. Every contraction I feel now makes me wonder if it's time - though they've just been painless and very inconsistent thus far.
Hopefully everything will go smoothly and I'll start having real contractions at 5pm Friday the 24th and I'll go home and hang out until they're 5 minutes apart and then drive on over to the hospital and call my grandparents and maybe do a Facebook post and then I'll hang out for a bit and then squat and he'll pop right out and that will be that. If only life worked on our desires.
Well, that's it for now I suppose. I've got a breastfeeding class on the 10th, which hopefully will help alleviate some of my concerns in that regard. As for the rest, we can only take it one day at a time.
Then I've got 6 weeks or so off of work, unpaid. Which means that only the most essential of things will be able to be paid. Let's hope we're at least caught up by then. Then we've got $400 a month in child care, $100 in diapers+wipes, thank God breastfeeding is healthier than formula! One of our roommates is moving out, which is a good thing, but it also will up our rent. Then there's the actual medical bills... oi! And our food stamps expire this month and we make too much to renew.
I have to figure out how to breastfeed, pump at work and store the milk, get a sleeping cycle down, manage the finances... I think the weight issue will either just shed away like nothing... or go no where as I down twelve pounds of chocolate a day to keep the stress at bay. Then there's the John gets freaked out by babies and can't stand the crying issue... which is a whole other thing on it's own. Although from talking with other gents on the subject, apparently it's a D-day miracle that turns them from scared boys into fathers. We shall see.
I've never had a child, so I can't say whether or not I'll want another one. I can say that I don't really think I'd want to go through this again. I think if I get that idea in my head maybe I'll come back and read through this and go "oh, let's just adopt." I mean, with the giant-ness, swollen feet, nausea, heartburn, constipation&diarrhea, hemorrhoids, complete loss of sex drive, having to pee every five seconds, missing so much work with doctor's appointments, being exhausted all the time, stretch marks surrounding my entire torso, and having to keep reminding everyone "slow and steady wins the race" when walking in groups, when we all know that's not true. So there...future self contemplating making more babies, take that into consideration. Nine months of it.
There of course, is the other side of the coin. The I can't wait to meet my little angel side. The I've wanted a child since I was a child and here so soon I can taste it I'll have one. Each week seems to be shorter and shorter than the last, though I've heard the last few take ages. I can imagine that. I'm already become anxious to see him, to hold him. I want to set up everything, wash his clothes and bottles and get everything in its right place but I'm postponing because I know as soon as it's totally ready for him I'll want him to show up. As long as everything is still boxed and bagged and ready but not quite then it still feels like it's a ways off, like he's still brewing. He very much so is, of course.
He's only four pounds and seventeen inches. Not quite plump enough yet, as he'll be about 6.3 pounds when first considered full term and around 7.5 pounds and 20 inches on his due date. My own birth came at the 35 week mark, so I'm slightly nervous of that date, only two weeks away. Every contraction I feel now makes me wonder if it's time - though they've just been painless and very inconsistent thus far.
Hopefully everything will go smoothly and I'll start having real contractions at 5pm Friday the 24th and I'll go home and hang out until they're 5 minutes apart and then drive on over to the hospital and call my grandparents and maybe do a Facebook post and then I'll hang out for a bit and then squat and he'll pop right out and that will be that. If only life worked on our desires.
Well, that's it for now I suppose. I've got a breastfeeding class on the 10th, which hopefully will help alleviate some of my concerns in that regard. As for the rest, we can only take it one day at a time.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Oh baby!
This weekend my grandma-ma and auntsters hosted a lovely baby shower for me. I neglected to bring my camera, but there were a few floating around, I'll be sure to add some pictures when they're uploaded.
We had a candy bar, cake, cupcakes, all kinds of fruits and veggies and juice drinks. I somehow felt busy and overwhelmed and yet completely removed. It was strange. I feel like I spoke to no-one, I ate a handful of carrots and that was it out of all the tasty goodness. Although afterwords I did nom the heck out of some candy and red pepper hummus. Which, by the way, I am in love with.
Oliver received a whole plethora of presents over the past couple weeks and yesterday. Our total haul thus far:
642 Diaper Wipes - Woo!
40 Diapers
31 onesies
11 blankets (1 swaddle, 1 hand crocheted)
9 bibs
9 washcloths
7 pairs of socks
6 burp cloths
6 pacifiers (1 with clip and 1 with stuffed animal attached)
4 books
3 care/grooming sets
3 towels (2 hooded)
3 boxes cotton swabs
2 diaper rash ointments (1 called butt paste! :P)
2 containers of bath soap
2 containers of baby powder
2 track suit outfits
2 button up shirts
2 "monster footies" (slippers w/ dragons on them)
2 sets silverware & travel case
1 sweater
1 no scratch mittens
1 bottle brush
1 bottle baby lotion
1 bottle baby oil
1 security blanket/rattle
1 carrier
1 diaper bag
1 portable crib
1 portable crib mattress
My unborn son now has more clothing, care products, blankets, and washcloths than I do. The vast majority is for 0-3 months, so I'll definitely have some shopping ahead of me (yay and boo in the same breath) - but it will be able to wait a while. All that's really left is breast pump/storage/nursing bras, a car-seat, and bottles. I have not a clue as to who got me what (beyond those who went through the registry) because there was some miscommunication about how you're supposed to write down gifts received. However, it doesn't really matter. I want all those that helped prepare me for Oliver's arrival, decorated a onesie for him, or just supported us with love and well wishes to know how very deeply thankful I am to have you in my life and to have your love/support as we go into this 18+ year adventure guns blazing.
Johnathan's face during opening some of the gifts - his confusion at diaper rash ointment and hooded towels made the whole room laugh... and me think I should probably find a new parents class for him to become acquainted with everything. He's never changed a diaper, for example.
Oliver put on a show for some of the guests that stayed later. I found their reactions pretty entertaining. Amazement, slight horror... ah, yes. I found a mix of both in myself the first time I saw him dancing around. Now it's just amusement, and a good feeling knowing that he's getting stronger and bigger and is still healthy enough to pack a punch. I can't believe I've only got 74 days to go! Just ~2.5 months until we'll officially be parents. Craziness.
We had a candy bar, cake, cupcakes, all kinds of fruits and veggies and juice drinks. I somehow felt busy and overwhelmed and yet completely removed. It was strange. I feel like I spoke to no-one, I ate a handful of carrots and that was it out of all the tasty goodness. Although afterwords I did nom the heck out of some candy and red pepper hummus. Which, by the way, I am in love with.
Oliver received a whole plethora of presents over the past couple weeks and yesterday. Our total haul thus far:
642 Diaper Wipes - Woo!
40 Diapers
31 onesies
11 blankets (1 swaddle, 1 hand crocheted)
9 bibs
9 washcloths
7 pairs of socks
6 burp cloths
6 pacifiers (1 with clip and 1 with stuffed animal attached)
4 books
3 care/grooming sets
3 towels (2 hooded)
3 boxes cotton swabs
2 diaper rash ointments (1 called butt paste! :P)
2 containers of bath soap
2 containers of baby powder
2 track suit outfits
2 button up shirts
2 "monster footies" (slippers w/ dragons on them)
2 sets silverware & travel case
1 sweater
1 no scratch mittens
1 bottle brush
1 bottle baby lotion
1 bottle baby oil
1 security blanket/rattle
1 carrier
1 diaper bag
1 portable crib
1 portable crib mattress
My unborn son now has more clothing, care products, blankets, and washcloths than I do. The vast majority is for 0-3 months, so I'll definitely have some shopping ahead of me (yay and boo in the same breath) - but it will be able to wait a while. All that's really left is breast pump/storage/nursing bras, a car-seat, and bottles. I have not a clue as to who got me what (beyond those who went through the registry) because there was some miscommunication about how you're supposed to write down gifts received. However, it doesn't really matter. I want all those that helped prepare me for Oliver's arrival, decorated a onesie for him, or just supported us with love and well wishes to know how very deeply thankful I am to have you in my life and to have your love/support as we go into this 18+ year adventure guns blazing.
Johnathan's face during opening some of the gifts - his confusion at diaper rash ointment and hooded towels made the whole room laugh... and me think I should probably find a new parents class for him to become acquainted with everything. He's never changed a diaper, for example.
Oliver put on a show for some of the guests that stayed later. I found their reactions pretty entertaining. Amazement, slight horror... ah, yes. I found a mix of both in myself the first time I saw him dancing around. Now it's just amusement, and a good feeling knowing that he's getting stronger and bigger and is still healthy enough to pack a punch. I can't believe I've only got 74 days to go! Just ~2.5 months until we'll officially be parents. Craziness.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
All of this, everything I know and take for granted and cherish - it's all about to change.
Will I still be able to sleep in until 9, snuggle cats and John for an hour and then go downstairs to think about breakfast? Probably not.
Right now I'm just laying in bed with my netbook, smelling the new barkdust from outside, watching Murr play with her mouse toy - flipping it high into the air and catching it. I haven't gotten dressed for the day yet, and it's almost half past noon. I haven't done much of anything. I went to the club house to "help" set up for the baby shower. Really, I just organized some candy jars and sat on a couch. Hard knock life, right?
I'm so uncertain as to how things will be over the next few months, it's hard to do anything but take it one day at a time. We've got baby stuff in the garage that needs to be cleaned and assembled into it's rightful location, but it seems like we have all the time in the world to get that done. What's the rush? I need to deep clean our room to get it all shiny for the baby, but again...what's the hurry? It seems like Oliver is still years away... Yet, here I am in month seven having a baby shower. Gathering friends and family to celebrate the soon approaching new life that will be joining us here on this earth.
I am so excited to meet Oliver, to wrap him in my arms and cover him with kisses. To learn all about him, and how to be a mom and to find out just how much my life is going to get flip turned upside down. The hardest part is going to be taking the six+ weeks off of work. Without my income, I'm not sure how all of our bills will get paid. I guess we'll just do our best to pay everything in as much advance as possible. I'll just have to take the shortest time I can off of work and leave Oliver with....
Right, there's another thing we haven't figured out yet. Where Oliver is going to go when I go back to work. Who will he stay with, who will take care of him? There are daycares in the area, but I really don't want to leave him with a mess of other babies and with someone I don't know. Which narrows down the field quite a bit. I think that former coworker of mine's wife is still doing daycare for a reasonable rate - and I know them enough to feel safe-ish with leaving Oliver with them. There's always my grandma too, which I would prefer - but she's already got so much on her plate. Although I'm sure it'd be nice for her to have some extra cash on hand.
For now, I'm going to continue cherishing these quiet moments I have to myself. Love on my kitties, spend time one on one with my dear husband - and be thankful for the sweet moments. I don't know how my life will change once Oliver's here, but I know it will be busier, more chaotic, and more full of love than I can know.
Will I still be able to sleep in until 9, snuggle cats and John for an hour and then go downstairs to think about breakfast? Probably not.
Right now I'm just laying in bed with my netbook, smelling the new barkdust from outside, watching Murr play with her mouse toy - flipping it high into the air and catching it. I haven't gotten dressed for the day yet, and it's almost half past noon. I haven't done much of anything. I went to the club house to "help" set up for the baby shower. Really, I just organized some candy jars and sat on a couch. Hard knock life, right?
I'm so uncertain as to how things will be over the next few months, it's hard to do anything but take it one day at a time. We've got baby stuff in the garage that needs to be cleaned and assembled into it's rightful location, but it seems like we have all the time in the world to get that done. What's the rush? I need to deep clean our room to get it all shiny for the baby, but again...what's the hurry? It seems like Oliver is still years away... Yet, here I am in month seven having a baby shower. Gathering friends and family to celebrate the soon approaching new life that will be joining us here on this earth.
I am so excited to meet Oliver, to wrap him in my arms and cover him with kisses. To learn all about him, and how to be a mom and to find out just how much my life is going to get flip turned upside down. The hardest part is going to be taking the six+ weeks off of work. Without my income, I'm not sure how all of our bills will get paid. I guess we'll just do our best to pay everything in as much advance as possible. I'll just have to take the shortest time I can off of work and leave Oliver with....
Right, there's another thing we haven't figured out yet. Where Oliver is going to go when I go back to work. Who will he stay with, who will take care of him? There are daycares in the area, but I really don't want to leave him with a mess of other babies and with someone I don't know. Which narrows down the field quite a bit. I think that former coworker of mine's wife is still doing daycare for a reasonable rate - and I know them enough to feel safe-ish with leaving Oliver with them. There's always my grandma too, which I would prefer - but she's already got so much on her plate. Although I'm sure it'd be nice for her to have some extra cash on hand.
For now, I'm going to continue cherishing these quiet moments I have to myself. Love on my kitties, spend time one on one with my dear husband - and be thankful for the sweet moments. I don't know how my life will change once Oliver's here, but I know it will be busier, more chaotic, and more full of love than I can know.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Ready and able?
Two questions I've been thinking about a lot lately, or more so that have been haunting me lately...
Is it worth it?
and
Am I ready?
The first question I imagine will be answered once Oliver is actually here, in my arms. I imagine, from the fact that people still continue to plan to have children and most that have one have more than one... the answer will be yes. He will be worth the sleepless nights, the stretch marks, the pain and annoyance and uncomfortable situation I've been in for the last six months and will continue to be in for the foreseeable future. There are far too many people who have told me they loved being pregnant... I just can't see it. Can't imagine someone who would enter into this knowing full well what it was going to be. Then again, I imagine he's worth it. And if he is, I imagine that his siblings very well may be as well. Still... without knowing him, if someone had given me a preview of what it would be like... I think I would have decided against having children or at the very least waited until ... I don't know. Until I didn't care about what I looked like, until I didn't have to work, until... something. Probably wouldn't have happened though. I have hope I will have changed my opinion on the matter once Oliver is actually here. Hoping it's just a in the moment thing.'
But, am I ready? This I can most assuredly answer no. Not at all. I think when we decided to take this journey we thought we were ready. We must have, right? This pregnancy wasn't an oopsy daisy kind of thing. We planned it, wanted it. Decided we had our ducks in a row enough to add another member to our family. And then all our ducks died. Which probably is the main reason why we are not ready. We essentially depend on the baby shower to provide us everything we need for Oliver for at least the first month or so of his life. Though, really, I'm going to be out of commission, so... who knows. I hope that John gets the pay initially promised to him - that will help. But, the company seems to be severely back tracking. We couldn't afford for me to take off two months without a baby... so no, we're not ready.
Finances aside, am I ready? Am I ready to change diapers, breast feed, be spit up / pooped / peed on? Am I ready to have this living, breathing, learning, human being depend 100% on me for his very survival? I don't know. I've always assumed that this would be the easy part. That finances might be rough, but that taking care of the baby - that would be easy. But now as we're quickly approaching D-Day... I'm having second thoughts. We can't afford any of these childbirth preparation classes, which has me nervous - but I have faith in the internet and my own pain tolerance management to make it through. But then after? I can't count how many diapers I've changed, how many bottles I've made, how many stories read, and time outs issued. And yet... I am terrified to my very core that I won't know what I'm doing. That as soon as Oliver emerges into this world every child I've previously taken care of, every memory will vanish. I'll be left with a micro-human that may as well be an alien species. Then what? I love Johnathan but my faith in him to step up and be super dad is ... limited. He's never had the child experiences, so everything to him will be totally brand new. I can't just expect him to step in and do everything while I stare at Oliver like he's from Mars and I'm a paralytic robot. I don't have a nesting instinct, everything continues on the way it was. The baby stuff we've gotten so far remains packaged up and out of site as if we're trying to delay the inevitable, as if we can't accept what's knocking at our door.
So, you know, there's that. I've just adjusted to being pregnant. Granted, it hasn't been the easiest or most graceful of transitions, but I'm at the point where I can't really remember what it was like to not have life inside of me. I'm worried that the transition from pregnant to mother is going to be just as rough. And I can't exactly take six months to get used to the idea. It has to happen immediately, like flipping a light switch. Civilian to Officer with no training in an instant. I'm scared that I just won't be able to cut it. That I'll be shot out of the sky before I even earn my wings.
I've never really heard anyone else voice these things. So I wonder, am I the only one who feels this way? Johnathan seems to voice the same concerns. I know we can't be the only expectant parents in a planned pregnancy to be so completely and totally unprepared and terrified. Yet, does it make us bad people, does it predicate an awful parenthood? I'm not sure, and I really hope not. I hope that when Oliver comes into this world that right switches are flipped, the maternal instinct I've always had so strongly is reignited and instinct and love take over. They've gotten me this far, let's see what else they can do.
Is it worth it?
and
Am I ready?
The first question I imagine will be answered once Oliver is actually here, in my arms. I imagine, from the fact that people still continue to plan to have children and most that have one have more than one... the answer will be yes. He will be worth the sleepless nights, the stretch marks, the pain and annoyance and uncomfortable situation I've been in for the last six months and will continue to be in for the foreseeable future. There are far too many people who have told me they loved being pregnant... I just can't see it. Can't imagine someone who would enter into this knowing full well what it was going to be. Then again, I imagine he's worth it. And if he is, I imagine that his siblings very well may be as well. Still... without knowing him, if someone had given me a preview of what it would be like... I think I would have decided against having children or at the very least waited until ... I don't know. Until I didn't care about what I looked like, until I didn't have to work, until... something. Probably wouldn't have happened though. I have hope I will have changed my opinion on the matter once Oliver is actually here. Hoping it's just a in the moment thing.'
But, am I ready? This I can most assuredly answer no. Not at all. I think when we decided to take this journey we thought we were ready. We must have, right? This pregnancy wasn't an oopsy daisy kind of thing. We planned it, wanted it. Decided we had our ducks in a row enough to add another member to our family. And then all our ducks died. Which probably is the main reason why we are not ready. We essentially depend on the baby shower to provide us everything we need for Oliver for at least the first month or so of his life. Though, really, I'm going to be out of commission, so... who knows. I hope that John gets the pay initially promised to him - that will help. But, the company seems to be severely back tracking. We couldn't afford for me to take off two months without a baby... so no, we're not ready.
Finances aside, am I ready? Am I ready to change diapers, breast feed, be spit up / pooped / peed on? Am I ready to have this living, breathing, learning, human being depend 100% on me for his very survival? I don't know. I've always assumed that this would be the easy part. That finances might be rough, but that taking care of the baby - that would be easy. But now as we're quickly approaching D-Day... I'm having second thoughts. We can't afford any of these childbirth preparation classes, which has me nervous - but I have faith in the internet and my own pain tolerance management to make it through. But then after? I can't count how many diapers I've changed, how many bottles I've made, how many stories read, and time outs issued. And yet... I am terrified to my very core that I won't know what I'm doing. That as soon as Oliver emerges into this world every child I've previously taken care of, every memory will vanish. I'll be left with a micro-human that may as well be an alien species. Then what? I love Johnathan but my faith in him to step up and be super dad is ... limited. He's never had the child experiences, so everything to him will be totally brand new. I can't just expect him to step in and do everything while I stare at Oliver like he's from Mars and I'm a paralytic robot. I don't have a nesting instinct, everything continues on the way it was. The baby stuff we've gotten so far remains packaged up and out of site as if we're trying to delay the inevitable, as if we can't accept what's knocking at our door.
So, you know, there's that. I've just adjusted to being pregnant. Granted, it hasn't been the easiest or most graceful of transitions, but I'm at the point where I can't really remember what it was like to not have life inside of me. I'm worried that the transition from pregnant to mother is going to be just as rough. And I can't exactly take six months to get used to the idea. It has to happen immediately, like flipping a light switch. Civilian to Officer with no training in an instant. I'm scared that I just won't be able to cut it. That I'll be shot out of the sky before I even earn my wings.
I've never really heard anyone else voice these things. So I wonder, am I the only one who feels this way? Johnathan seems to voice the same concerns. I know we can't be the only expectant parents in a planned pregnancy to be so completely and totally unprepared and terrified. Yet, does it make us bad people, does it predicate an awful parenthood? I'm not sure, and I really hope not. I hope that when Oliver comes into this world that right switches are flipped, the maternal instinct I've always had so strongly is reignited and instinct and love take over. They've gotten me this far, let's see what else they can do.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Baby names and updates on life
I've gotten a lot of people asking me if we have any names picked out, so I figured this would be a good place to share the list we have so far.
Chances are the name we decide on hasn't been thought of yet, we tend to flip flop back and forth. Middle names are in parenthesis if they apply. And for ones that don't have middle names, just go with Lee .. that's a good middle ground. Or Francis, one of the best teachers from my youth gave everyone the middle name of Francis....
Girl Names:
Bellana (Paris)
Laureli
Victoria
Faye
Lily
Reagan
Elizabeth
Jean
Anna (Marie)
Megan (Gwynn)
Chloe
Quinn
Annika
Boy Names:
Bradley
Brandon
Elijah
Peter
Warren (Kenneth)
Oliver
William (Thomas)
Wesley
and... John says no but I say they're still in the running....
Zefram
Nicolai / Nicholas
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
This past week hasn't been the greatest for me... starting to show even more than ever and it's starting to kill my self esteem. If I stand up straight... I can't see my toes....
John pulled me into the bathroom to stare at myself in the mirror, told me I was as beautiful as ever, and made his hands into a heart on my tummy. So, you know, at least there's that.
It feels good to have support from most of my family as well. I think a few think we're too young, maybe foolish for the timing, I don't know.... but for the most part it's congratulations and war stories and it makes me feel happy that we told everyone. I know the biggest critic of my life will always be me, and I know I'm too young, and I know the timing is horrendous. I also know that despite the fact I feel like crap 24/7 and want a sling to help hold my tummy up... I've never been happier. Never more in love, never more excited for the future. And really, it's not necessarily that I'm too young either, just that I don't have a workable degree. Had I gone for dental hygiene like I had originally planned out of high school, I'd be a lot better off and the perfect age. I don't want to work once the baby is born anyway, and Johnathan is a breath away from 27 and has a workable degree that can make six figures if he wanted it to. So... yeah. We were finally caught up on everything and getting ready to pay down debt when we got pregnant, life was looking good. Fate had it we'd both be unemployed a month later. Such is life.
Anyway, thanks for all the kind words! We'll know here within a month or so the gender of the baby, and then we can really start scheming ;-) I've got a low paying job to finally bring in something since unemployment was denied, and Johnathan's applying and hoping. If you know of any places needing an IT guy, he's your man.
Smiles and Sunshine.
Chances are the name we decide on hasn't been thought of yet, we tend to flip flop back and forth. Middle names are in parenthesis if they apply. And for ones that don't have middle names, just go with Lee .. that's a good middle ground. Or Francis, one of the best teachers from my youth gave everyone the middle name of Francis....
Girl Names:
Bellana (Paris)
Laureli
Victoria
Faye
Lily
Reagan
Elizabeth
Jean
Anna (Marie)
Megan (Gwynn)
Chloe
Quinn
Annika
Boy Names:
Bradley
Brandon
Elijah
Peter
Warren (Kenneth)
Oliver
William (Thomas)
Wesley
and... John says no but I say they're still in the running....
Zefram
Nicolai / Nicholas
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
This past week hasn't been the greatest for me... starting to show even more than ever and it's starting to kill my self esteem. If I stand up straight... I can't see my toes....
John pulled me into the bathroom to stare at myself in the mirror, told me I was as beautiful as ever, and made his hands into a heart on my tummy. So, you know, at least there's that.
It feels good to have support from most of my family as well. I think a few think we're too young, maybe foolish for the timing, I don't know.... but for the most part it's congratulations and war stories and it makes me feel happy that we told everyone. I know the biggest critic of my life will always be me, and I know I'm too young, and I know the timing is horrendous. I also know that despite the fact I feel like crap 24/7 and want a sling to help hold my tummy up... I've never been happier. Never more in love, never more excited for the future. And really, it's not necessarily that I'm too young either, just that I don't have a workable degree. Had I gone for dental hygiene like I had originally planned out of high school, I'd be a lot better off and the perfect age. I don't want to work once the baby is born anyway, and Johnathan is a breath away from 27 and has a workable degree that can make six figures if he wanted it to. So... yeah. We were finally caught up on everything and getting ready to pay down debt when we got pregnant, life was looking good. Fate had it we'd both be unemployed a month later. Such is life.
Anyway, thanks for all the kind words! We'll know here within a month or so the gender of the baby, and then we can really start scheming ;-) I've got a low paying job to finally bring in something since unemployment was denied, and Johnathan's applying and hoping. If you know of any places needing an IT guy, he's your man.
Smiles and Sunshine.
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