Rules of the Due Date

Amazing! I wrote this entry in a fit of fury 6 days after my due date and 4 days before the baby actually arrived.  I never got around to posting it, but it's useful information. And how could you not trust this face...

The morning I went into labor - $&!%'s about to get real

Am I wrong that there are millions of trillions of pregnant people in the world? Seriously- if you sit at CPK by the mall entrance, you'll see 20 minimum before you finish your Thai peanut rolls. So how do the, admittedly well meaning, people in this society NOT know the basic rules of dealing with a woman waiting to have her baby? Well, let me provide some friendly reminders from the enormous horses mouth...

First general rule- if we don't usually speak frequently AND about my vagina- this is not the time to start. Surprisingly, there are about four people that do fit into this category. You're good.

How are you doing/feeling? 

I'm going to tell you fine or some variation. The real answer? I feel like crap. I'm tired and grumpy and hungry but nauseated. My skin itches, my back hurts, I finally truly look as bad as I feel, and my lower sphincters feel like they are fighting to hold up an eight pound bowling ball. 

Any baby yet?

Well I can only speak for the ONE that I've been growing, no. And rest assured, we will send out texts and Facebook updates and tweets as soon as we're ready. And I've proven in the last 2.5 years that I'm not shy about showing off my offspring. 

Are you in labor?

Do you really think if the answer is yes, that I'm going to be interested in texting someone an update? 

Now you can have the baby...

Or any variation on it being a good time for somebody other than the baby or me for this kid to be born. I couldn't give less of a &$@%, really. 

And I'll add on that any of the above sent as jokes, still blow up my phone in one way or another- and since I'm either cleaning, sleeping, or puking while I change a diaper- it's all adding to the crazy making. 

So thank you all for caring and being excited for us. I promise, without your reminders, that I will remember to have this baby. I promise I'm more excited, more ready, and more curious about when she'll come. I promise that I'm filled with hormones that will make me hate everyone now, but that those will flush out at some point. But for now, leave me alone. 

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk

I have a hefty goal. I want to teach my kid (soon to be kidS) a very important lesson. I see the benefits of them cleaning up after themselves, being polite, and sharing- but I KNOW the benefits of teaching them not to sweat the small stuff. In my family, and in generations of most families, this has not been an emphasized skill- so I'm forging new territory. In fact, I'm still a relative newbie at the whole idea. 

This morning we got a perfect lesson. It is the lesson of the proverbial and literal spilled milk...

My wonderful 2.5 year old C not only insisted she get a splash of half and half in her morning drink like Mr. P has, but she wanted to drink the liquid that I know to cause stickiness and a pretty gnarly stench if left too long, from a big cup- no sippy lid. I'm relaxed, not stupid, so the deal was she had to drink at the table. As I chatted with my mom on the phone I watched at least half the drink spread across the table and C began one of her favorite morning activities- finger painting with it. When she finished, the remains  tracked into the tv room and onto the rug. 

At this point I pointed out that the milk got a little messy ("yeah, messy" she agreed). Luckily she also likes to "clean" so I gave her some paper towels and let her start spreading it about before I stepped in with my green spray and nonchalantly "really cleaned." And here's where I got proud- as we wiped up together, she said "all clean, no big deal."  No. Big. Deal. I try to throw it in as much as possible. Yes, there are big deals in her world- going in the street without a grown up, being gentle with little babies, etc. But for the most part, pretty much everything ends up being "no big deal." And it seems to be sinking in for her. 

Also, she rode a roller coaster yesterday, which I've never done- I gave birth to awesome sauce!

Our Bath Time Moment

I must admit..I have not participated actively in much since my body has become temporary housing for the next member of our family - cleaning, friends, parenting.  I am here...but Mr. P has been doing most of the heavy lifting.  So now I'm sort of enjoying getting back into bedtime, bath time, ballet class (oh yes, I said "ballet class" and that will get some attention soon).   I'm also enjoying cooking, but not nearly as much as eating!
A few nights ago I started another normal bath time.  It goes something like this...adult starts the tub and then plays defense against the toddler who tries to get into said tub fully dressed.  Strip toddler, and commence dreaded hair washing as quickly as possible.  Man handle toddler to keep her IN the tub, and then throw some toys in and if adult's patience is not gone by this late hour - let toddler play for a bit after a wash up.  Remove toddler and try to dry off before said toddler then does the ritual naked laughing lap around the house.
After hair washing, the nugget wanted all her toys.  And I gave them to her...one by one.  We went through the name of every letter or animal as we went.  Then she lined them up, one by one on the ledge and I flicked them back in, which was apparently the most entertaining thing ever.  I let the water drip and splash WELL out of the confines of the tub (a big no-no in my world) and all over me.  Now, I'm not claiming to have become #1 mom that evening...I just had a momentary comforting thought.
That evening, the nugget wanted nothing more (except maybe an ice cream cone) than to have me sit close while she was in the tub and interact endlessly with her.  At the same time, deuce was buried deep inside me, and as much as I worry, as safe as that baby will probably ever be.  I had both my kids close and safe (OK, and under my control for the most part).  Neither one wanted me to get away, or be quiet, or not be seen with them.  Neither of them yelled at me to give them privacy or looked at me like my adult wisdom was a load of archaic crap.  All of this stuff I expect and hope not to take too personally when it comes, but that night, it hadn't come yet.  So I decided to take a minute to soak it in.

Silly Water Baby

 

As you may have noticed - I have been trying to update my blog- first posting things I have begun writing but not had it in me to finish - so some clarification:
- as of today I am nearly 17 weeks pregnant, but posting things from earlier
- as of today, The Nugget has been two for a good 8 weeks or so...

I've found most things have taken a backseat to watching a 2 year old for a good portion of my waking hours and trying to fit the puking, migraines, random weeping and general negativity that come with my particular brand of pregnancy.
The good news...I have received some relief!!! Last time I got very little relief...but this time, around 15 weeks I had an epic meltdown one night about having completely lost any remnant of myself between not having any recognized work and being pregnant.  It was a sight to behold (I assume...I was sort of behind it all).  And then, like a mini-miracle, I woke up feeling good.  I went out to breakfast, ate real food including bread, and kept it all down through a trip to Ikea.  I then hit up 4 more stores on my own and hung out the rest of the day...no puking.  It was amazing.
Now to be fair- I have had bad days since then...more migraines...a day or two where nothing stayed down, and still getting sick every couple of days...I know- #whitepregnantgirlproblems, right? I'm not exactly a Syrian refuge here...so I have to keep things in perspective...but it is still a little rough.  Just not the rough I was anticipating it to be for much longer.
I have been to the grocery store and the park and cleaned and found other humans tolerable.  It's like the almost normal me.  My poor little nugget no longer needs to hold a bowl for mommy while I change her dookies - in fact, she's stopped imitating my "barf-face" every time she sees a metal bowl altogether. Huge improvements.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll stop this scattered update here, as it's nearly 9 and that's about 2 hours after my bedtime...

2 is a Good Number

Nugget turned 2!!! Yup, I have now (with some assistance-ahem) kept a small person alive for 2 years. That first year didn't go all that fast, but this second one made me understand all the parents who say "it goes so fast!"

Nugget is a big talker. She is also a dancer and a singer. And a jumper. Jumper should go first actually- because that consumes a lot of her day. She knows her shapes, at least 1/2 her letters (although she can recite the alphabet mostly), but colors are an uphill battle. She has dabbled in using the potty and taken swim lessons. She sleeps in a big girl bed after a nightly up and down routine. 

This year we opted to forgo the big Pinterest-worthy, expensive birthday bash and opted for a kiddie pool, hot dogs, and 9 of her little buddies. 

Now this post is about Nugget and not about Deuce- but I must note a strange gift from the universe. 

At 8 weeks pregnant, I was able to do NOTHING for the party. Exhaustion and intermittent violent vomiting keep me from the bare minimum most days. However, the day of the party I woke up with energy to hit 4 stores and prepare some food. I did get sick once or twice, but I was able to hang out and enjoy my baby's celebration. And it was a celebration that fit my nugget. Fun, relaxed, outdoors, and happy. 

Happy 2nd Birthday Nugget!!!

Run for the Border

Ok, seriously. What just happened here? I wish I could explain it. I wish someone could explain it to me.

I've always been able to pick the restaurant OR go to the restaurant someone else picked. I'm not a picky eater. 

Backup- announcement- I am once again pregnant. Early pregnant (6 weeks as I write this) but feeling it. Big time. In fact, I probably won't post this until I'm further along- but need to document tonight's phenomenon nonetheless. 

It started with an innocent thought. That boiling hot, spicy Korean tofu soup sounds good. I only get it with Auntie G or my mother-in-law because they can order for me. Within 30 minutes I wanted it so bad I couldn't find a comfortable way to lay in bed (which you think would be caused by the record heat that makes the craving even stranger). I have just entered my first "craving." This is nothing to joke about.  I feel a psycho-like need for spice taking over my body and mind and I don't know what I will be willing to do if it's not satisfied. 

With nugget, I had things that I knew I could stomach and thus, I would request more. Then once Mr. P decided to buy it in bulk, I would change my mind. However, I don't recall ever having a craving. And I know I never sent Mr. P out after to dark to fetch something. Until tonight. 

So I knew I wasn't getting Korean soup, but a Taco Bell 7-layer burrito makes up for most spice needs for me. And he went and got me one. Typing this, I 1/2 wish I had asked for 3, but that would make me more miserable than the one is going to make me- because face it, you don't puke, eat Taco Bell, then fall asleep and wake up feeling squeaky clean, you know? In fact. You don't do it sober. Ever. Until now. 

No, I'm Not...But I Was.

"Does anything hurt?" I've been asked this more in the last two weeks than any other time I remember. I keep answering "no," but all I want to say is "my heart."
It's interesting that the saddest thing I ever remember happening to me leads me to try my hardest to make everyone feel comfortable- my family, my parents, my in-laws, the doctors, the lab tech who was subjected to drawing blood from a weeping woman. Most people I don't tell (until now). Other people I reassure that I'm just fine or even find myself apologizing to...the last thing I want to do is deal with anyone else's feelings - because the fact is no one can feel as bad as I do. Wait no...honestly the last thing I want to deal with is any pregnant women.
I lost my baby. I don't know, and I don't care, how much of a baby he (just a feeling) got to develop into before he stopped and got re-absorbed into me.
By the time I saw- everything to support him was there...a sac, a yolk, a placenta sending my body all the cues to be the walking dead and nauseated. No baby though.
We gave it an extra 10 days "just in case" during which time i went between giving in to the reality and strongly believing the best could come true. I think "we" were more hoping that my body would figure out what was going on and take care of things itself. It didn't. It held on as tight as my mind did. Finally I made the decision that was best for everything and had to go in for a D&C. In case you don't know- that's basically an abortion, but in my case it just cleans out an unhealthy pregnancy. I found it ironic that I made it through catholic school, one of the biggest party universities in the country, and being single for all of my twenties without having to go the Hoover route -I may be a little proud even. Then when I'm 33 years old and married with a child, I have to go in for the "procedure." Now I know they are different things. But since I don't have any moral objections to abortion- it's pretty much the same in my head.
So for now I'm pretty sure I'll always hate Easter. I will never look back on my last days working for the law firm fondly. I will always know what happened on the second floor of Kaiser and what I found out on the third floor. Next time the first 12 weeks will be wracked with an additional fear. I'll always trust my body that much less.
In closing, I must add (possibly to make any of you feel better) that I am aware this is a moment in time of an otherwise relatively stellar life. I am aware that great joys (such as parenthood) don't come without the risk of great sorrow. I understand somewhere that this is not an indication of any problem with me or something I've caused. I have found that I have wonderful friends and family (not that I didn't know) that support me in any and all ways possible. I don't believe that things like this happen for a reason or are some part of a bigger plan. I think they just happen. And they suck.
May 3 UPDATE: I wrote this three weeks ago while fasting for my D&C. It's good to remember how I felt, and to know how quickly my mindset has changed. Continuing support from friends and family has been the miracle cure. Mr. P and the nugget are constant reminders of how lucky I am. The D&C was really quite simple and allowed me to avoid a lot of the physical aspects of a natural miscarriage. I feel almost nothing like what I wrote above. I am headed as I type, to Tahoe...nausea-free and ready to indulge in some adult beverages. Would I rather have not gone through that? Yup. Am I going to enjoy my life as it is? Absolutely! But I'm still going to post this because it was very reassuring hearing and reading stories I could relate to, so this is my contribution to the pool. It sucks, but it gets better.