PPD: 11 Months Later

Last year, I had a baby. I also had postpartum depression. I originally talked about my experience with PPD in a previous post.

The thing about postpartum depression when you're on an antidepressant is that you feel normal, for the most part... but I still wondered every day if I would ever be able to get off of it. I'd accidentally miss a day and think I'd surely never be able to stop taking it if only one missed dose could allow so much negative emotion to slip through. This is why it's almost unbelievable today for me to say I'm officially off the medication completely.

OH, if I could sit and talk with my past self!*

In part, I wanted to give an update in case anyone might be wondering how this has been going. Mostly, though, I am sure there are chicks out there just like me who think they are the only one. They might feel alone, and if they're like I was, they'd be searching the internet all the time to try and find comfort, to find someone who can tell them that they're going through it too and not to worry and to call your doctor and that this! takes! time! You aren't a bad mom for feeling sad instead of happy. You aren't a failure because you can't will yourself out of the darkness. And taking medication for it can be scary but many times it's necessary to be able to take care of yourself and your baby/babies.

This is what I wish I could go back and tell myself, but my experience is what it is, and I've made peace with that. I was still happy and grateful and ME underneath it all, but I couldn't dig that far.

Now, I do wonder if I'll have depression with future babies, but it's a much different situation now. I look forward to experiencing a new baby without it, and I'm much more aware to handle it more quickly if it does happen. AND now that my experience is all out there in the open, it's not nearly as scary of a thought.

*I'd really like to talk to my future self, too. All of us could do a HIMYM-style acapella number, which would be worth it even without any insight into life.

A Birth Story (of Sorts)

I was scheduled to be induced on Monday, August 25 at 12:01am.

That did not happen.

Maya was born at 41 weeks and a day, on Sunday, August 24 at 10:02pm. She weighed 7lbs 5oz and was 20.5" long.

At dinner Saturday night, a stranger said his daughter was due in September and he guessed I was due in October. "No, I'm actually a week overdue today." We all laughed and decided his incorrect guess was a compliment. It is, right?

I got basically no sleep on Saturday night thanks to contractions. I was monitoring them using an app on my phone, because how else does anyone do anything these days? I wasn't supposed to go to the hospital until my contractions were 2-5 minutes apart, and I certainly wasn't going to get trigger happy and end up being sent home.

So, Sunday around 4:45pm, my contractions were averaging 4 minutes apart. Not only did they really hurt, but I was feeling a lot of pressure during each one. It no longer mattered to me if they sent me home, and that's how I knew it really was time to go.

When we arrived at the hospital at 5:15pm, we got the last big room available. Fist pump! As the nurse was getting me all strapped in, I was just hoping I'd be dilated to at least a 3, maybe a 4 if I was lucky. So, when she checked me and said I was at a 5 and fully effaced, we were stoked! We alerted the media and waited for my IV and epidural.

After my epidural, it only took about 2 hours for me to be complete and ready to push. My doctor wasn't on call that day, but she came in and delivered my baby anyway because she's the best. I pushed for 35 minutes, which I hear is no time at all for a first baby. This part of the process was the best. It was so bizarre/awesome/crazy to feel her move lower and lower with each push, and to eventually feel her head, then body, be born. The doctor handed her to me and I held her on my chest. She was beautiful and warm and slimy. Out of all her family in the room, she was the only one not crying. Justin cut the umbilical cord, which I had completely forgotten about until I watched him do it.

They asked me if it was okay for them to take her and clean her up. Justin and I had previously discussed how I might feel forgotten or ignored after she was born since she would be getting instant attention and I'd just be laying there by myself, now separated from our new little baby for the first time. I completely forgot about that, too, but Justin didn't. He stayed right next to me, holding my hand. That's when it hit me: she needs us! One of us needs to be with her! I told him he could go to her, and he asked if I'd be okay if he did. "Yes, go!" And then that thing happened like in cartoons where he was gone so fast that all that was left was a big cloud of dust in his place.

I'll admit that I looked at the placenta out of curiosity. Won't be doing that again. I will never ever understand what compels some people to eat those things. Sorry if you're one of those people, except I'm not sorry that I find it disgusting.

I tore a little on the inside, and on Tuesday we discovered I had retained membranes. Conveniently, my doctor was already there delivering another baby. Initially, Maya's bilirubin levels were too high, so I was having to feed her every 2 hours. As soon as she was in the clear on that, her blood sugar level was too low, and she eventually had to be taken to the NICU and put on an IV. This was about as much as our hearts could take. She was on a 3-hour feeding schedule then. Thankfully, she was released less than 24 hours later, and we were both discharged on Wednesday night.

It's a good thing we had a big room, because the number of visitors we had at any given time filled the place. My hospital bag was overpacked, even though I packed light. I didn't expect to use my makeup, but putting some on before we left the hospital might've made me feel a little more human. Before Maya was born, I wanted my first meal post-delivery to be McDonald's. It was, courtesy of Justin's dad, and let me just say that a Big Mac and sweet tea really hit the spot when you're no longer concerned about how much of it is crossing the placenta you no longer have.

Our hospital is contracted with Baby Bloom Photography, so they came in and took newborn shots of Maya. After they were done, they edited the photos and played them for us in a slideshow with music and all. This, my friends, is the easiest way to get a brand new daddy to sign over everything he owns.

"The first of many purchases I'll be making for her."

While there were a few concerns for both Maya and me, it was still an amazing experience. The best experience. And yes, pregnancy can be stressful and last forever. Yes, contractions hurt. My body became foreign, and it will never be the same. I'm exhausted, and I get frustrated at 2am when I'm begging Maya to sleep. I still don't fit my non-maternity jeans. My roots are out of control. Just when I thought I might be getting back to some kind of normal, UTIs and hemorrhoids show up and remind me of the trauma my body recently experienced. I've woken up with dried baby poop on my stomach and not a single day has gone by that breastmilk and spit-up haven't tainted my shirt.

BUT. I would give up my old self and my old life a million times for what I have now.

All the cons still don't out weight the pros. I've always seen life as a give and take. A 50/50 trade. Then I had a baby, and now I'm certain that the trade is not even at all. Big picture: you sacrifice a lot to gain a lot more.

Welcome

Welcome, Maya Blue. We love you forever.

Exactly one week ago, I was still pregnant. At 5:30pm, I had just checked into the hospital, dilated to a five and fully effaced. In less than five hours, I would be a mother.

The delivery process was amazing. As unreal as it is to have finally met my daughter, it feels like I've known her forever. I feel like a new person, and at the same time, I feel like I've finally become myself.

A week as a mom, and this is already the best/scariest/happiest/most exhausting thing I've ever experienced.

At 10:02pm on Sunday, August 24th, my life began.

40 weeks + a day

There should be a support group for pregnant women who are overdue.

My due date was yesterday, and there have been no signs of baby at all, as of now. It goes without saying that she will come eventually. But that's not the issue. I know she'll be here someday, but that's always been true, even long before I was pregnant. It's that she was supposed to have already arrived. I've been pregnant for a zillion years, and now I'm still pregnant. None of my apps have any kind of encouragement, and I can't find a single forum on the internet that isn't full of halfway-preggos who are hoping they won't be overdue. This forum isn't for you! Go away!

We were fully ready and prepared to bring her home two weeks ago, so any preparations made since are either an added bonus or me redoing something and calling it extra ready. I sleep as much as I can, especially since I wake up frequently throughout the night and can't get back to sleep very easily. This baby is still active, but it's painfully clear to us both (literally, for me) that she's out of room. Walking hurts. My body is sore and tired, but I think the worst of it is that it's like my bones can't stay together. They're all just free-floating between weak muscles and tendons. People say walking helps you start labor, but waking up every morning with gloves for hands and slippers for feet makes walking unappealing. I do it anyway, though, because I don't have a baby yet and I can go anywhere I want. So there.

I had been keeping my hair relatively fixed, just in case, since I'd like to look the least ridiculous after pushing a baby out as possible, but I mostly gave up on that. I started pulling back on it in an attempt to coax her out. Like, of course she'll be born the one time I put off a shower until tomorrow. But, no. The problem with her being in my body is that she's totally onto my tricks. I've tried every peptalk and lecture and bribe I could think of to encourage her, but to no avail. I mean, if a dresser full of adorable clothes won't do it, I don't know what will.

As I get more anxious/frustrated/disappointed/exhausted, Justin gets more and more excited. Guys deal with impending parenthood differently than girls do, and now that we've hit the due date, I think now he really believes she could come at any moment. She could, but knowing this fact is actually almost worse for me. However, it's pretty nice having some strong positive energy to absorb.

I don't even think I need to say how crazy in love with her we are or how badly we want to meet her. We have been given so many good things for her, and I honestly don't think we would be anywhere close to ready if it weren't for all the love and support we've received.

We have an ultrasound on Monday to check on her health and all, so from there, we'll know when to induce (assuming this thing doesn't start on its own). Whether it's a day or two or a week or two, it already feels like a lifetime of waiting for my life to really start.

The Pros of Being Pregnant at 39 & 1/2 Weeks

To be honest, I was sure she'd be born by now. The consistency of all my mom's pregnancies ultimately did nothing to predict, with any accuracy at least, what my experience would be. (I should've seen this coming when I passed my one-hour glucose test.) Here I am, rounding the corner on my due date, and there are zero signs that she's going to be born soon. The most I've got going on is some low menstrual-like cramps and back pain, but it's not even measurable. The doctor and nurses call them Braxton Hicks, but I can't even consider them contractions. (They said my Braxton Hicks contractions are minimal due most likely to the fact that I'm well-hydrated. Insert eye roll here.)

For the first time during this whole pregnancy, I actually started to feel hormonal last week. I took it as a sign that this was almost over, which was a bad idea because that just made me even more anxious. The past couple of days, however, I've mellowed out a bit. She'll come eventually because she really doesn't have a choice.

My next appointment is this Thursday, and if i'm still pregnant by then, I'll be sent to Labor & Delivery to have an ultrasound. As long as everything looks good, they won't induce me for another week after that. I really don't want to be induced. I mean, if I wanted to be induced, I'd just call them today and tell them I want this baby out of me, and that would be the end of it. So, in an effort to not be so impatient, i.e. miserable, I've considered the reasons why still being pregnant right now is actually a good thing.

She's the safest and cleanest and most comfortable she'll ever be in her whole life. I don't have to change dirty diapers yet, or clean up puke, or hear her cry. I don't have to share her with the world yet. I can totally shower all by myself. (Well, as "all by myself" as I can do anything while pregnant, you know. Living for two, and all that.)

Guessing the day she'll be born is kind of like a game now. It really could happen any time. I should've thought about this beforehand and made some sort of a raffle for guessing the day. Hey, I should organize it anyway, because then maybe that would encourage her to come, right in the middle of a big project. That's how kids work, right? Busting in, taking over your stuff, right when you need them to not do that?

See, I'm a kid expert already. I have that skill, thanks to never actually having been a parent before. Add that to the list of good things about still being pregnant.

One of my best friends was able to take some maternity pics for us, which turned out awesome, so basically now I've done everything I can to be prepared for this baby. Ultimately, though, that means nothing, because when I think about actually going into labor, I forget everything I know and become the biggest rookie to ever have a baby, ever.

So... Any day now!

38 weeks + 2 days

You people have no clue how ready I am to have this baby. I am so done being pregnant, just waiting around. I'm so tired all the time. Feeling her move is still as awesome as ever, probably more so now that she's like a real live borned baby, but what the hay bales do I have to do to make her get out here?!

And, apparently, I've gained too much weight since my previous appointment. Problem is that they gave zero clue where I'm hiding this weight, and everything else is perfect as always, so now I have the fun task of a 24-hour urine test. My uterus measures appropriately, so they aren't even considering that this weight is in the baby. "It's probably because you're tall," they say, "but we'll have you do this test just to check." Okay, great. Now I have even more incentive to have this baby ASAP. Just what I needed, ANOTHER reason to want her out of me.

Don't get me wrong. If the worst thing I have to endure in regards to this pregnancy is collect my pee for 24 hours at 9 months pregnant, I'll take it. But c'mon. This late in the game, they might as well just let it go, because all this does is give me one more thing to try not to stress about.

We've got 1 week and 5 days left until her due date, which basically means we just need to be ready at all times. Our bags are packed and, so far, I've done pretty well keeping my hair at least sorta fixed. (Still heavily relying on "glow".) In my fantasy world, my water breaks after a restful night and a good breakfast. The problem with that is that a restful night is a laughable notion, and a "good breakfast" depends highly on your definitions of "good" and "breakfast".

I've started this new fun thing where I have elaborate and vivid dreams that aren't nightmarish but aren't pleasant. I wake up multiple times during the night to pee (as always) and come back to bed and just sit there. Why? Because I can't sleep. Why? Because life is cruel and sleeping well for even one final night before bringing home a newborn baby would probably be some sort of false comfort, and therefore, a crime.

Unfortunately, this whole post has been one giant complain-fest about how impatient I am. And exhausted. And impatient.

Can I have this baby now?

Okay, I'm done being pregnant now.

I've been sick all weekend, or I totally would've posted (or even taken) 36-week photos. My car won't start this morning, which is really a blessing because I intended to go to work today even though I'm still feeling sick. (I have a... summer cold? "Pregnancy cold"? Probably the dumbest thing ever invented. Bottom line is that besides not being able to breathe even more than usual and having a stuffy/sneezy/runny nose from hell, my whole body hurts and my brain is stuck in this half-sleep/half-awake state that pretty much makes me worthless as a human.) I was feeling moderately better when I snoozed my alarm 7 times and got up and dressed, but now I feel like I did all weekend and I'm thinking maybe it's best that I stayed home. I am 8 months pregnant. Due in 3 weeks and 5 days, as of today, and if that doesn't freak you out, I don't know what will.

Don't be mistaken, though. I am more ready than anyone for this girl to be born. I'd like to live in a non-pregnant body again, and I want to finally meet her. I used to be torn about wanting her in my arms vs. loving her in my belly. Today, I'm not torn. Feeling her squirm in my stomach is awesome and magical and beautiful and sometimes painful, but that cannot possibly compare to holding her to my skin and kissing her little face. Amirite, moms of the world? I'm gonna assume it's totally normal at this point to be done with this whole pregnancy thing and want to just go ahead and give birth now. Plus, I've already washed her clothes and organized her stuff and packed the diaper bag, so I'm thinking I'm basically ready now.

Oh, and I want you to know that washing a year's worth of clothes is incredibly difficult when you're pregnant, regardless of how small the clothes actually are. What's worse is that I only thought I washed every last onesie and sock and wash cloth we have for the first year, only to realize, when I was already mostly dead, that I didn't wash her 6-9 month clothes. In the grand scheme of things, this is totally fine. I mean, she isn't even born yet. I wonder a little bit about why I even bothered washing so many clothes in the first place, but when I imagine a scenario in which I didn't wash all those clothes, I feel like I just would've been setting myself up for more work later, when I'd rather be enjoying things like baby snuggles and avoiding household chores. I washed her 6-9 month clothes, though, just for the sake of consistency. Then, naturally, put them away because it'll be 6 months before she needs them. -ish.

My next baby bump appointment is tomorrow, which is the first of my weekly appointments and the first where my dilation will start being checked. In reality, we do have a few things that still need to get done, and, for baby's sake, I'd like her to cook as long as she needs... but that doesn't make it any less exciting to know that we're almost done. I am just a few short weeks away from having my very own baby!

Though I'll admit it's a little scary. When I called with a positive pregnancy test to make my very first appointment, they were all, "Great, here's your due date, and your first appointment is a zillion years from now at your 10- to 12-week mark." Uuuuh, what?! You're just going to leave me on my own 'til then? Now, I'm gonna go have this baby, and then they'll just send us home and be like, "Good luck!" And we'll get in the car and wonder why in the heck they just let first-timers walk out of there with nothing but natural instinct and some basic common knowledge to keep this fragile, foreign creature alive and unharmed. And right about the time that I'll be thinking we can maybe do this thing, a nurse will pop her head out the doors and yell, "Oh, yeah, and good luck with your new body, too! Gonna be a doozy getting it back to normal!"

Listen, I'm just saying what all first-timers are thinking. Maybe when Baby #2 comes around, I'll be a pro. Heck, I'll deliver that baby myself. Doctors? Pfft. I got this.

Sorry, Baby #1. We get to learn together.

But I'm not really sorry at all.

I've Accomplished Nothing (Unless Napping Counts)

Time left until her due date: 4 weeks & 3 days

Things I haven't done yet:

1. Washed her clothes

2. Packed my hospital bag

3. Installed her car seat

4. Sent out thank-you cards
5. Had maternity photos taken (Do I really have to?)
+ a ton of other stuff that I'm too tired to think about.

Justin goes to the gym, I stay home and nap. He folds the laundry while I surf Pinterest. He massages my feet while I go to sleep.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that one of us is on top of things, and it's not me. He hasn't packed his hospital bag either, and he's totally going to be the one to install her car seat, but he's got energy and motivation and I have exactly none of either. The RN who instructed our birthing class said if mama starts "nesting", dad needs to shut that down! Precious energy must be saved for pushing that baby out! I love this advice and I don't love this advice. 'Cause stuff needs to get done, yeah, but nesting isn't so different from nestling when you're big and tired and ready to both meet your baby and not be pregnant.

I can sense, somewhere deep inside, that I'm about to let it go, let it goooo! (Fun fact: Customer service is not the most ideal job when you're 8 months pregnant and have had it up to *here*.) Multiple times a day, I think of all the clothes I've sorted that still need to be washed, our room that needs a bit of rearranging to fit her bassinet, the hospital bag I haven't packed and what I need to put in there, and the car that still needs a car seat so we can even bring her home. I haven't sent out thank-you cards for all the gifts we've received, but I also haven't had maternity photos done or even put makeup on most days, so that makes it okay...?

At the beginning of this post, I wanted to nap. Now, I want to get all of this stuff done right now AND nap.

We need a few key things in life at this point, and any prayers you can send up for us will be appreciated more than you know. We have been extremely blessed to have a smooth pregnancy and a healthy baby & mama. This is the home stretch, people!

Four weeks and three days is not a long time. And that's probably not even entirely accurate at this point. How many babies are actually delivered on their due date? I got distracted while researching that percentage and found a few resources that say your mother's birth history can be a good indicator for your own experience. If that's true, every baby I ever give birth to will come a week early. That will never do. Three weeks is simply not enough time. Ugh, but it's too much time! Will this be my life forever? Will I be constantly ripped back and forth from too much time and not enough time? I have a whole paragraph of things to get done in four three weeks. And look at me now. Blogging. Pfft.

I gotta go wash baby clothes or nap or something.

Pregnancy: All Its Glory

The fact that I haven't posted anything since 29 weeks is blowing my mind. That was years ago! I sit here now at 34 weeks and 5 days, which means her due date is barely more than 5 weeks away. Mentally and emotionally, I could not be more ready. Pregnancy is the longest thing I've ever done in my entire life, and I am so ready to finally hold her in my arms and kiss her little face.

These days, my rib cage and hip bones are fun toys to try and shatter. My bladder is more like a water bed or trampoline of some kind than anything else. She's probably the strongest baby in all the land, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if she just burst right out of my stomach to make her debut.

So far, I've gained more weight than they wanted me to gain by the end of the whole pregnancy, but the doctor and nurses just can't see where I'm hiding it, so they don't really care. They comment on my height at every single appointment, but no one seems to take the newbie seriously when I say I'm a little concerned I could hide a 10 pound baby in this mile-long torso of mine. WELL WE WILL SEE, WON'T WE?! (This is one of times where I'm totally okay with being wrong. I mean, "I told you so" just loses its punch when I'm the only one suffering.)

My ankles had a moment where they were so swollen, it looked like I was wearing ankle cuffs. I should say that this is not the norm, thankfully, but holy cow. Speaking of cows... my stomach is so tiny now. It can't hold anything. I graze. I'm a cow, but not in the way I thought I'd be a cow.

All in all, physically, I have no idea what to think of myself. The list of symptoms is way too long to mention all the pros and cons, but the bottom line is that I feel, simultaneously, at my best and worst. I heavily rely on whatever glow pregnancy is supposed to give me, because I mostly look like crap these days. I have roughly 2 pieces of clothing that fit me. Back in December, I was all, "Oh, yeah, I'm gonna live in maxi dresses all summer," which is so stupid because SUMMER IS HOT. It's hot. I don't care how late our spring rain is this year, it is way too hot for a maxi dress. All that heat gets trapped under there and I just can't do it. I need mini dresses. Sleeveless mini dresses that are soft and comfortable and that hold me together without cutting me in half. Is that too much to ask?

5 weeks and 2 days left. I have mixed feelings about pregnancy but my feelings about meeting/holding/kissing/staring at/singing to this baby are very clear. I'm ready whenever she's ready. (But excuse me while I roll my eyes because I know, I know, she needs more time. I GET IT.) Maybe tomorrow I can be selfless and who cares what I want because blahblahblah, it's all about her. But, you know what? It's gonna be all about her FOREVER for the rest of my life. I claim today, and maybe tomorrow, and the next week and maybe the week after that and the week after that. It's not a crime to want to meet my baby already, even if she needs a few more weeks to cook. I wanted to meet her in December when I learned about her and I want to meet her even more now, when she's almost ready to meet me.

ALMOST!

29 Weeks

Hello, Third Trimester. We've been waiting for you.

This is the home stretch, now. Last week in the twenties. Last trimester before we meet our baby, before I become a non-pregnant version of myself again. First and second trimesters are done, and I'll never have those "firsts" again. This pregnancy has gone so slow for me, so I'm a little bit surprised that the third trimester is here. It certainly didn't sneak up on me, but I did start to doubt if time was actually moving.

This baby moves ALL THE TIME. All the time. At my last appointment, my doctor said they want ten kicks a day. "HA!" I said. I got ten kicks just while we were in the waiting room. And another ten since we've been in the exam room. That's just a warm-up to the warm-up to her warm-up exercise.

10 kicks. Pfft. Honestly.

So, we're investing in running shoes for when she starts walking.

Some awesome news is that I passed my glucose test. YAY! I was sure I was going to fail that, being hypoglycemic and all, but now I'm questioning everything I've ever known. This changes my whole outlook on life!

Some not-so-awesome news is that I am officially uncomfortable living in this new body of mine. Heartburn is a killer. I can't breathe if I lay on my back or if I eat anything. My feet, ankles, and calves are basically permanently swollen. Almost none of my pre-pregnancy clothes fit me anymore, and I nearly had a heart attack when I put on a non-maternity tank top that looks just like one of my maternity tank tops as you can imagine because I AM NOT THAT HUGE YET. WHY IS THIS TOO SMALL?! Upon realizing my mistake, the feeling of relief lasted only a second, because then I realized something else: Normal clothes don't fit me. This is life now.

My problem is that I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac. I didn't want to assume I'd have a bunch of symptoms just because I'm pregnant. It seems good and all, not to anticipate complaints, but I took it way too far. Every symptom I've had - you know, normal, common pregnancy symptoms - has taken me by surprise. Allergies? Swollen feet? Out of breath? Trouble sleeping? Heartburn? Leg cramps? Constant exhaustion? You mean all of these are real and they're happening to me? I get to be a member of the pregnancy party?

My belly button is starting to do its own thing. Hope it doesn't get too crazy.

When my doctor told me about how much weight I should gain by the end of this thing, I thought, Okay, seems right and normal and not a big deal at all. Then I reached a weight that totally and completely took me by surprise, as if I had never actually done the math and thought about the numbers. And we still have a whole trimester left! My doctor laughed when I asked, in a very animated way, how big of a problem it was that I had gained enough weight for nearly the rest of the pregnancy.

Turns out, I'm totally ridiculous and she's not worried at all. Hey, she's the doctor. And I don't have a scale at home, so, I'll just keep eating everything all the time.

I can assure you that this baby isn't complaining about that.

"Is my belly really that big?"
"Yes, babe, and it's only going to get bigger."

100 Days

I was told by nearly everyone that pregnancy would fly by. All of these people lied. This has been the longest thing I've ever done, ever.

It's miraculous and wonderful and freaky and awesome, and I hope to do it again (and again and again) because I really love it. But I'd be lying if I said I want it to last forever, because I don't. Yeah, yeah, the physical struggles. Whatever. Those are annoying, but I can brush those off fairly easily because I know they're temporary. Brushing off the anticipation of seeing this baby - my baby - for the first time... Not so easy. Not easy at all.

Let's also not pretend that I'm not looking forward to getting my body back. I want to improve my physical form, not watch it bloat up more and more every day, right before my eyes.

I live for the next kick in my stomach, for the next time she topples over and punches me square in the bladder. I live for the next appointment, for the next time we hear her heartbeat, for the next Saturday when I'm a week closer to holding her in my arms.

I also live for the next big, juicy, rare steak I'll devour after inhaling about six Caesar salads will all the delicious raw egg Caesar dressing I can fit in the bowl. (This is where my head's at.)

100 days is all that's left in this pregnancy gig. 100 days to get prepared to come home with a baby one day. Emotionally and mentally, I'm about as ready as I'll ever be. Past ready, in fact. Like I said, this thing has taken forever. Once the ultrasounds were done, I was ready to meet her. That's the next thing? Alright, let's do it.

As it turns out, pregnancy doesn't work that way. You wait. Baby comes when baby comes. It should take nine months, i.e. forever. "It will fly by!" they say. It might not. It might be the longest thing you've done besides life, and that's barely a fair comparison.

So then, I hear "100 days" and I'm 100% torn about whether that is a short amount of time or not.

Either way, the clock's tickin'.

***

(Also, I highly recommend avoiding strep throat at any time, especially when pregnant. It is the actual worst.)

25 Weeks + some days

This baby inside me is huge. I mean, she's small for a baby, but huge for being in my stomach! I've gotten used to [not] sleeping and I've adjusted to the heartburn, but my trusty body is not as trusty as it used to be. I don't know that I'll ever really adjust to the physical issues, partly because I've been in denial about a lot of them.

You don't have to have a beach ball belly to struggle to get out of bed. You don't have to have a short torso to have fiery heartburn. Pregnancy brain is real. Swollen feet/ankles/calves are just a part of life.

As of the last week, I can't have a single thing in my stomach without feeling like my belly skin is stretched to it's limit. That's a thing now.

Also as of the last week, baby girl is official viable outside the womb! Milestones!

 

Pregnancy is weird, don't you think? You have this baby in there - a real, live baby - and it's just growing away, waiting to be born.

Spring is in full swing. Of course, it feels a lot more like summer most of the time, but I'm not complaining about that. (Yet.) Spring means it's officially time to register. I was putting off doing this until after Justin's birthday, but now that that's done, the registry lobe in my brain has totally shut down. Nesting is a real thing, too, and I blame that for the fact that I'm overwhelmed. (But I'm still in denial about that.)

Stop nesting. The nurse in birthing class said not to waste energy.

This baby girl has more clothes than I know what to do with. All I want to do is sort them and wash them and hang them up.

What does she know?

How soon is too soon to decorate a nursery?

25 weeks. The calendar on the fridge won't need to be rewritten until 30 weeks. I remember when it said 8 weeks and I wrote "raspberry" in red marker because that's how big she was then. I didn't know she was a she yet. I hadn't had my first ultrasound yet. I hadn't even heard her heartbeat yet.

Now, the calendar goes all the way to 30 weeks, and I stopped keeping track of how big she is in relation to fruit a long time ago.

We're so so so so so so close. Excited doesn't begin to cover how we feel. 

Birthing Class, the Hospital, & I need how much water?

I have a pretty hot looking selfie of me sitting under the dryer at the hair salon, and that's the only picture I've taken between my last post and now.

I haven't been doing nothing, though, because we started our birthing class! AND we took a tour of the hospital. Now I am officially stoked. I'm in full-on LET'S HAVE THIS BABY mode and I CANNOT CONTAIN IT.

Our birthing class is three Saturdays in a row, of which we have two left. It's starts in the morning and lasts until 1pm, and they have the best fruit and donuts and blueberry muffins that we all just snack on the entire time. We got fancy travel cups (mugs? glasses?) that we're instructed to drink 8-10 of a day while pregnant, which is basically impossible. Only half of that has doubled the number of trips I take to the bathroom every day, and frankly, I can't have that. I just can't. I've also decided that my bladder has a secret trap door to hold extra fluid until 30 seconds after I only thought I emptied my bladder.

The teacher of the class is an actual labor & delivery RN at the hospital. (Fun fact: My hospital has only RNs, no LPNs.) One of the models she used was a life-size pelvic bone. I'm not normally squeamish, but seeing that instantly disgusted me, and I remember thinking of my nurse friend and how she's the only person I know who would've been fascinated by it. Then the nurse passed it around for all of us to see, or touch or whatever, and I was like NO. I passed it on to the next couple by holding it with only two fingers on each edge, because I don't want to imagine MY pelvic bone or the baby - that's currently stuck in my body and is already too big to get out of there painlessly - being a full-size newborn and having to fit its whole body through that bone. How is this not disturbing to everyone?!

Besides that, the class was so fun. I have tried to stay pretty educated on this whole pregnancy/labor/delivery thing, but I learned more in this one day of class than I ever thought I would. We practiced labor positions and breathing through contractions, which was nothing like hee-hee-hoo and more like actual breathing. She let us have about 80 trips to the bathroom, which was awesome. I love classes catered to pregnant women! Leave food out all day and give us a ton of potty breaks.

Currently, Baby Girl is stretching and deforming my stomach, which is, by the way, the strangest and most amazing thing I've ever experienced.

The goal of the birthing class is to give you enough knowledge on the process of labor and delivery to take away the fear. What's funny, though, is that seeing the hospital room did that very thing. (Plus, we learned all about the details of their infant security, which really helped papa bear cope with the whole thing because he was not as immediately fearless and Let's have her today! as I was. You know, the whole Sag vs. Taurus thing we've got going on.) Our top priority is that she and I are healthy and that everything goes well, but that goes without saying. Aside from that, I'm just hoping we get one of the big rooms at the hospital instead of a small room. Hahahahaha. Really, though.

Homework for myself:
1. Take more pictures.
2. Drink more water...but do I have to?
3. Stop trying to sleep on your back. It's over.

20 Weeks

20 weeks! You know what this means?

It means we're halfway to meeting our little burst of sunshine.

Halfway to having a daughter.

Halfway to solo showers and trips to the gym. Halfway to fewer diet restrictions, to sleeping on my back again, and to Easter Sunday attire being an event in itself again.

These days, we're working on ways to increase our income and get into new living arrangements. We're trying not to buy every cute baby thing we find. We are trying, quite unsuccessfully, to get a good night's sleep before August.

I can already tell I'm going to miss this when it's over. I feel like Superwoman, being the host for this miraculous thing, experiencing it firsthand. This fall, if I feel a "kick" in my belly, it will probably just be gas, and if that's not depressing, I don't know what is. Granted, I still have 20 weeks to change my mind and beg for an empty uterus, but screw you, future self! This is awesome!

She still moves like crazy. She seems to have adopted a "late to bed, late to rise" lifestyle, and I think I can handle that for now.

20 weeks down. Here's to 20 more, filled with sun & fun & good health & good vibes.

Girl!

Yaaaaay!

Little Baby Straily #1 is a girl!

Many of you may know that Justin was on Team Boy, but how upset could you possibly be when you learn who your first baby is? You can't be upset, and he can't even pretend to be.

I only thought he had turned all fierce protector before. He's already bracing himself for boyfriends and makeup and expensive prom dresses and "Great, just what we need... a daughter with my butt." ...In the ultrasound, her little tush did look just like his. It's pretty clear to me that she has his face, too, so at this point I'm just hoping she'll have my eyes? my brilliant personality? something? anything?

I may have promised him, like, 50 boys after this girl. May have.

Remember my last post when I said how active this baby is already? Multiply that by 10 and that's what life is like now. It's getting strong enough where I don't have to be trying to feel her move. She distracts me from tasks on the daily. (More foreshadowing, probably.) AND, for the first time, I saw her moving FROM THE OUTSIDE OF MY STOMACH, like there's actually something in there, living and breathing (sort of) and peeing (gross, right?) and moving.

Active and happy. Stretching all the time and, based on the ultrasounds, training to be the athletic/hiccuping champion.

I have been saying from the beginning that this baby will be a burst of sunshine, a ray of light everywhere she goes. When I woke up on the ultrasound day on Monday and checked my Bible app for the verse of the day, it was this:

"The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world." John 1:9

 I should say that this verse refers to Jesus, and I'm certainly not suggesting that my kid is Jesus. But how rad is it that, on the day we find out who our baby is, we get this verse that mirrors how we feel about our active little ball of sunshine?

She's perfectly healthy, and is right on track with her growth. Now we've just gotta watch and make sure she doesn't secretly become some 10 pound monstrosity and bust out of my stomach all horror movie style.

Mini Bump (I Actually Have One Now)

It's not officially spring yet, but Justin and I started some much needed spring cleaning yesterday. Our dog, Drey, loves it when we clean. He tries to attack the broom, but abandons that effort rather quickly when he discovers the interesting pile that the broom creates. "Cool! I had no idea that all this stuff was here!" The vacuum, however, is his sworn enemy and he has apparent orders to attack on sight.

We have a very playful dog, and I think that may be to prepare us for a playful baby. It's gotten to the point where I just have to lay back and give my little belly a poke and it's like a pitter-pat party in there. The baby is only big enough for me to feel it moving, but not big enough yet for Justin to feel it or for it to cause me any pain. Haha. (Though, based on our size, I'm sure the day is coming.)

Speaking of size, I'm at 17 weeks and two days, though I don't think I look quite that far along. I started getting worried that something was wrong, so I did some research. Apparently, a long torso like mine is the cause, and I'll likely not ever look quite as far along as I am. This news was a little disappointing, but comforting in that it means I don't necessarily have an underdeveloped baby. BUT! Also apparently, I will probably be able to avoid a lot of heartburn, back pain, and general discomfort when sitting or sleeping in the later months. I'm holding onto the hope that these are true for me. I mean, a bump is kind of like a badge of honor, especially considering all the crap you have to endure. Without that... pregnancy can kinda suck.

But let's not pretend like I've had it rough. The allergy attack nearly killed me, many times, over the last 3ish weeks, but then everything froze again for a second, and here I am, alive and almost cough-free. Yay! I'm constantly tired, but I figure this is the standard of living now, so I don't bring it up much. No parent wants to hear an almost-parent talk about how tired they are. They either roll their eyes or they laugh, or they cry because they've been tired for years.

Maybe being awake for so many hours a day has made time move slower than the garbage truck that just passed by should've been going, because somehow we still haven't gotten to the ultrasound where we'll find out who's cookin' in there. We should know in a couple of weeks (or less) i.e. A MILLION YEARS. If it's a boy, I suppose that's a good thing, because we started reconsidering our choice for a boy name, and THAT was stressful. Basically, it needs to be a girl. The next baby can be a boy.

Got that, little one? Be a girl so the next occupant in there can be a boy.

PHEW. Glad we got that sorted out.

The Curse

There's this thing that pregnant women do. New moms do it, too. Not all of them, but enough of them that this is actually a thing that's been studied.

When you're pregnant, your whole body is changing. Let's not even address the bloating and the growing belly. You feel nauseous when you think that should be long behind you. You get allergies for the first time in your life. You have to cut a bunch of food out of your diet, and you have to be extra aware of the foods you do eat, just in case you can't have those either.

Maybe you never had a sense of smell because your jaw wasn't in the right place and it actually prevented you from having a sense of smell until after you had jaw surgery. But by that time it didn't matter because you'd already lived 18 and a half years without one, so you never learned to rely on it. And at 23, you still can't walk into a room and know what's just been cooking like everyone else can, and it's weird to you that others can. And then you find yourself pregnant, smelling things you still can't identify but you just can't ignore because the scent is filling up your nose and mouth and lungs and head, and you can barely tell if it's a good scent or a bad scent because it's strong enough to just be bad regardless.

There are so many things on the What Happens To Your Body When You're Pregnant list that it would be a much shorter list if it just had the things that don't change.

Things That Don't Change When You're Pregnant:
1. Your name.
2. ...Your age.
3. ?

See? Much shorter.

SO, it only makes sense that a woman (or a not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman woman like me) would want to maintain a sense of control over her body and her life when all of it changes forever.

There's this thing that pregnant women do. New moms do it, too. Not all of them, but enough of them that I'm worried I'll be one of them.

They cut their hair. They chop it off. I don't want to do that.

Sure, some days I do. Some days, I'd love to have a short style. Maybe even for a couple of days. But that third day... The third day is the killer. I'm done with the short hair thing and I'm ready for the long hair thing. PROBLEM IS, the obvious. I'm not rich and famous and I don't have a team of people ready to make my hair look long when it's not.

I'll dye it. I'll dye it red or ombre or blue or something and lust over bangs I'll never get. But I won't cut it. I can't! I just can't.

None of this would be an issue if I didn't already want to change my hair.

In all of the crazy, I may feel a bit like I've lost control. I need something I can rely on to feel like myself, right?

RIGHT?

15 Weeks

Being pregnant is strange, don't you think?

There's totally a baby in there.

Today I am technically 15 weeks and a day, but I don't think that day makes a significant difference. (Maybe it does, though. I did not look like this two weeks ago.) It was pretty chilly outside when this photo was taken, especially in the shade with bare feet on the cold ground. I reminded myself that this will be one of the few bump pics in which I won't be sweating. (This advice to self didn't really help.) I didn't take a photo last week because I was feeling all blasé about taking a picture of a non-bump. I took one at 13 weeks, though, and that picture compared to this one has really shown me how fast this thing happens. You wake up one day looking bloated and you go to sleep that night looking pregnant.

Thursday, I went to the doctor because I was miserable with a cold/sinus infection thing. I was coughing my lungs out and my head was full of pain and my body hurt and I was sleeping NONE. Doc said it was irritation from ragweed, and that even though I don't have allergies, it can still bring a girl down. So, my almost-sinus infection was super rude all weekend, hanging out where it was clearly not wanted, but I have some antibiotics that have helped a bunch. Luckily, 'cause I really didn't want to go to the doctor obviously miserable and walk away with nothing more than a pat on the head.

Today, I've been teetering between feeling much better and not feeling better at all. I spent most of the day deep diving in Etsy and Pinterest looking for awesome things related to baby, because nothing really brightens up your day like seeing your mini-bump basically for the first time.

Our next appointment is the on the 18th. This is the day they'll schedule the next ultrasound, which means... We'll find out whether it's a little lady or gent that's causing that mini-bump! We were initially planning on having a gender reveal party, and those are all the rage these days. But, with every day that's gone by, we've become less and less willing to wait even a second longer than necessary to find out who's in this belly o' mine.

When we find out, I'm certain it will mark the end of me spending money on anything but that baby for the rest of my life.

............

Some Etsy faves from today:

 1. mermaid blanket
2. skull shoes
3. star mobile
4. hair clips
5. baseball dress
6. shark towel

I'm on a girl kick. What can I say?

Perspective

Two weeks ago, I was in planning mode. I survive on lists, and I was making only about a thousand of them. Since I haven't had a baby yet, I have nothing for babies. I decided I needed to research my heart out and make enough checklists for a lifetime. You know, so I would be prepared.

A week ago, I was exhausted. I had so many lists and so much information that I was stressed. Too stressed to keep it up. I threw away the mental list I had for all the lists I wanted to make. I was giving up, but not in the sense that I failed somehow to meet my goals. I gave up the ridiculous idea that I had to map it all out. Yes, I function better and accomplish more with lists. Yes, this is my first baby, and being overwhelmed is not a new or uncommon feeling. But making all these plans about what to do and when to do them (and so much more) is not even close to enjoyable. Not when there are so many things I can't plan yet.

This became about so much more than getting things done or being prepared. This became about how much I have to do still and how long I have to wait to do some things. It became about me and how stressed I am and how, out of 35,667 things to do before August, I can only do 3 of them now. It stopped being about how I'M HAVING A BABY. Hello! Perspective!

I had this same issue when deciding whether or not to have an epidural. Eventually, it became all about me and the stress and the pain and can I even do this and I know I won't want to do this and how strong I am and how the majority of planet Earth will not support my decision or help me to follow through. How do I change my mind without feeling like I've given up? Without feeling like I failed my baby before we even started this gig?

So, I decided to have one if they'll let me. And when I did, a HUGE weight was lifted off of me. Instantly, I realized how I had forgotten about the whole meeting-my-baby-for-the-first-time thing. I was surprised at how relieved I felt. I expected to feel disappointed, but I was more disappointed in the fact that I completely lost perspective. The whole debate had distracted me so much that I didn't even see how distracted I was. Ever since, when I think about the delivery, I wonder what it will be like to meet my baby instead of how much pain I'll be able to handle.

Really, that's one thing that has surprised me more than anything in this experience so far: You don't have to be perfect. My baby will not develop a third arm because I WAY overdid it on the (decaf) sweet tea yesterday. I will not be branded as a horrible mother because I don't make my own baby food. The world will not end if I have an epidural, okay? It just won't.

When I look back on my wedding and all the planning that took place, I mentally high-five my former self and all my friends and family. We totally did it, and it was totally rad. It wasn't a stressful experience. It was fun. Sure, there were some stressful moments, but I have to actually think about those. Someday, when I look back on my first pregnancy, I don't want to remember how stressful it was. I want to be able to mentally high-five myself again.

My baby won't ever thank me for having a stress-free pregnancy. But it he/she won't thank me for my attempt at perfection, either.

You're doin' fine, girl. Really.

On Food & Being Psychic

Nausea is kicking in again these last few days. What's funny, though, is that I'm finally starting to be interested in food. I was concerned there for a while that I would be repulsed by everything forever. And by "concerned" I mean devastated. My "cravings" were really just the only foods I could think about eating and not be disgusted.

 

It's kinda funny (and also incredibly tragic) how pregnancy can take a committed food lover and break her down into less than an eat-to-live survivalist.

 

I mean, baby needs more than potatoes, even though they are easily classified as their own food group in mama's eyes.

 

I've had to up my bedtime, or, really, give myself a bedtime at all, which is about as lame as it gets. No, no it's not. Having to up my bedtime again is as lame as it gets. I've been putting it off because of the lameness, but I can only be late to work so many times before I admit that the problem is not the traffic. It's that I need 3000 hours of sleep a day.

 

We recently finished watching Dexter (terrible ending) and started this video game about supernatural beings living normalish lives where you've gotta do some murder solving. I've always had crazy/vivid dreams anyway, but vivid dreams + serial killer shows/games + being pregnant = CRAZY REAL DREAMS about people being in your house at night and in your room and people being pregnant with octopuses and being surrogates for dolphins and even dreams about things that haven't happened yet. Then I get this déjà vu moment where I know I've seen this before even though I couldn't have, and I wonder if I'm crazy or psychic or what.

 

And it occurs to me that you have to be a bit crazy to be anything awesome, including pregnant and psychic.