Old Lady Stuff

When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to grow up. I thought that there could be nothing better than not having to go to bed at a certain time or do what your parents said. It took much longer than I preferred, but I did eventually grow up. I remember the first time at 18 when I told my mom what time I'd be home. She didn't seemed too fazed by my statement, but it was a defining moment to be able to tell the woman that dictated my every move for the previous 17 years that I may or may not be home until morning. I was a grown up and it was going to be awesome.

And for the next 11 years, it has been. I eat what I want for dinner, I go where I want during the day, I get to sleep in a bed with a man every night and no one gets to say a thing about it because I am an adult. And married, duh. Being a grown up is as great as I thought it would be as a kid. Except growing up means that eventually, you will be old. And there doesn't seem to be anything awesome about that. Sorry old people. 


All of my friends are turning 30 this year. I am the baby of the group and will only be 29 (next month). My old(er) friends are all freaking out. 30 isn't old, but it does mark the end of the twenties. I haven't thought much about being 30 since I still have another year to go, but with so many 30 year old cakes I've partaken in the few months, I've started to think about getting older. And I don't like it one bit.

The hardest part to reconcile is my fleeting physical youth. I noticed my very first wrinkles this past year and y'all, I can't handle them. They taunt me from their perch on my forehead screaming silently, "there's more of us yet to come and you're gonna have us FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!" I hate those taunting wrinkles. There's also my old lady back and my creaky knees. My hip pops when I walk. I relish a good night's sleep more than a fun late night and I will always choose a sensible meal instead of a gluttonous treat because let's face it, my old lady gastrointestinal system pays for it hard when I throw a wrench in the system. I may still be in my twenties, but I'm getting old.

I realize that 30 is not old, not even middle aged. But it does mark the end of youth. I will no longer be considered a child bride. I was 26 when I married my older man of 33. I will no longer be a kid in my twenties. I will no longer have the freedom to say, "I'll think about it when I'm older." 30 is older. And while those things aren't tragic, waking up with wrinkles and gray hair is. Okay maybe not tragic, but alarming when you're used to waking up looking young and vibrant. 


Next month I will blow out 29 candles and celebrate the end of my youth. I don't think I'll be terribly sad about that considering I have wonderful things in my life, but I will miss the glow of youthful skin and taut skin/body parts. Goodbye youth, you were fun while you lasted.

Love Day

When JD and I first started dating, he was very romantic. He wrote love emails, he bought flowers, he wooed. I loved it. After we got married, he stopped doing all of those things. Abruptly and with seeming purpose, he just stopped. I often ask him why he stopped. "I still need love. I need to be wooed," I say. He explains that he's got me now, there is no need to bother with romantic nonsense. I'm not going anywhere so his romantic days are behind him. Hmmph.

I like romance. I need romance. So I try to contrive it. I force JD to kiss me, I make him stare lovingly in my eyes for x amount of minutes, and I make him write me love letters. He complies, but it is so not heart felt. Even though I realize that all of the romance I try to create is not real, I still do it. Because I need it. And just participating in romantic behavior makes me feel like romance is still alive when it is so clearly dead.

Valentine's day has never been one of our more romantic days. Our celebrating usually consists of an exchange of cards and some candy. It is very low key and if he were to forget, I would not mind much at all. But on the most contrived love day of the year, my unromantic husband did his very best to rev up his romantic engine. He surprised me with a love card and my favorite candy. We were all set to go out to dinner but Beatrice caught the funk that I have had so we stayed in with her. Our Valentine's date turned into an evening on the couch with a feverish baby girl, The Bachelor, and some scrambled eggs. After Beatrice went to bed, I looked over at JD and made a joke about how romantic our night turned out to be. He said that he was more content being home with his girls than being anywhere else. We were parents now and sometimes our plans had to be altered for the sake of sick babies.

I realized that our relationship has a lot of romance. He may not woo me like he did when we were dating, but he takes care of me like no one before and he considers me. He may not buy me flowers on the regular, but he always saves the good cereal for me and never makes me wait to spit out the toothpaste when we're brushing our teeth. The couple that brushes together, stays together. Our brand of romance may not be the traditional kind (or even the recognizable kind), but it's ours and it's real. Even when it's contrived.

Second Trimester

Hello world. I am still alive. The flu did not take me out, thankfully. My K genes prevailed and I barely survived kicked influenza's caboose to the curb. The last 2 days have been the first in over a week that I actually felt alive and attempted to stay awake for the entire day. The flu is behind me, and for that I am grateful.

Our littlest one is trucking along too. We saw the little baby for the first time last week during the NT scan. "It" is doing just fine, growing and kicking and being a good little fetus. See for yourself.

This week marks the beginning of the second trimester. This pregnancy has flown by compared to last time. Having a toddler does that. My belly has grown this week. A lot. I know this week's bump growth is not a food baby because I have been living on cereal and chicken soup all week. Food babies require cheeseburgers and pizza and cake to really thrive, know what I mean? This bump is all human baby.

Stats

Weight gain: Maybe a pound but I only weighed once this week fully clothed WITH boots on. That is a cardinal sin in the get-on-the-scale world. My only excuse was that I was sick and simply didn't care about my clothes and shoes adding a few extra el bees on the scale.
Stretch marks: None.
Movement: I'm 95% sure that those bubbles in my belly are that sweet baby up there.
Cravings: None. Other than health. I just crave health for the rest of my life.
Sleep: Meh. Sick sleep is the worst. I need some good sleep this week pleaseandthankyou.
Best moment of the week: Seeing the little guy/girl on the ultrasound AND getting the good test results back.
Gender: I want a girl. I think it's a boy.
Labor signs: Nope.
Belly button situation: In.
What I miss: My True Religion jeans. They fit a few weeks ago. Not so much now. I'm reacquainted with my old friends, jeggings.
What I am looking forward to: Wearing maternity clothes. I'm ready to rock this bump.
Weekly wisdom: Flu or not, it is so important to take care of your body and treat it well.
Milestones: 2nd trimester baby!

Here's a picture for your viewing pleasure.

Uggggggggggh

Remember when I wrote this? Yeah, that was pretty awesome. You know what would be even more awesome? If it were still true. I, despite all of my superhuman K genes, have contracted the flu. It has been the worst physical thing I have ever been through. Worse than natural childbirth because with that, I knew that it had to eventually be over in a day or 2. The flu? It can last a 2 weeks at minimum. Oh boy.

I started feeling sick last Thursday. My sore throat turned into sneezing and wheezing, then by Monday the extreme fatigue set in. Thankfully JD was off from work to watch Beatrice while I slept all day. Tuesday I realized that what was afflicting my once superior immune system was no mere common cold. I had sweats and chills, a low grade temperature, and I slept all day. All day. I called my OB on Wednesday morning and she told me to get to my primary care physician for a flu test. I did and it was confirmed that I have the dreaded illness. But the best part of this whole story? I waited too long to get any flu meds. Apparently you have 48 hours to get to your doc to get the miracle flu drugs. Since I waited 6 days, I was out of luck. Plus, there is nothing safe to take during the first trimester of pregnancy except Tylenol. So, much like natural childbirth, I am having to endure this whole mess without the aid and relief of modern medicine. Lucky me.

Despite feeling the sickest I have ever, ever felt in my whole entire life, I am blessed to have loads of family in town to take care of Beatrice. Today she went to play in the snow with uncle Seth and aunt Jenny. Yesterday she played with Grammy and Bop. My best friend came over on Tuesday to bathe her and put her to bed. I would feel guilty about being totally absent from her sweet life for several days, but she is soaking up the attention.

Today, I am hesitant to say that I am feeling better. Tonight is uncle Seth's birthday dinner at Mellow Mushroom and I'm pretty sure my cure might be found in the Kosmic Karma pizza so I am willing health back into my body so I can go and prove my theory true. And I'm praying. Because last night, I read on the internet that you can die from the flu. And I don't want to die. Not from the flu. Be well friends and don't catch the flu.

Let's Check In On Mah Fetus, Shall We?

Today I am 12 weeks pregnant. This pregnancy is so different than last time. I have been sick almost the entire time with morning all day sickness. It has been rough, especially while trying to keep up with a toddler. But hopefully, with only a week left in the first trimester, I will be feeling better soon. Please dear Lord let me feel better soon. 

Stats

Weight gain: NONE! This thrills me. By 12 weeks pregnant with Beatrice, I had already gained 10lbs. Things are looking up for this pregnancy already. Except for being sick. But at least I'm still skinny!!!!!
Stretch marks: NONE! I never really got any with Beatrice so I don't expect to get any this time around either.
Movement: I could have sworn I have felt those flutters all weeks but I'm pretty sure it's just gas. Pregnancy does weird things to your digestive track. Just sayin'.
Cravings: To not be nauseated every moment of the day. That's all.
Sleep: Pretty darn good, when I can. Insomnia plagues me a few nights a week, but otherwise I sleep like a baby, with a baby in mah belly.
Best moment this week: Hearing the heartbeat. I love that sweet lub-dub.
Gender: I keep having girl dreams but I think it's only because I want another girl so badly. Methinks it's a boy....
Labor signs: Nope.
Belly button situation: In and all normal and cute still. Just wait.
What I miss: Feeling like a functioning human being.
What I am looking forward to: Seeing the little babe on the ultrasound tomorrow for the NT scan. And praying for a good report!
Weekly wisdom: I really try not to complain too much about my overall misery because I realize that conceiving and carrying a child is a gift and blessing from God.
Milestones: The baby is fully formed now and looks less amphibian and more human. Yay human baby!

And now for a belly picture. Don't mind my pajama pants/turtle neck sweater combo. It's kind of my trademark to wear my shirt from the day to bed with comfy PJs. I'm aware that it's not normal and I'm totally okay with it. You should probably get used to it now. You'll be seeing many similar ensembles in the weeks to come.

It's a tiny little baby bump. Actually if I hadn't gained any weight whatsoever, I would be inclined to think that it was a food baby. But alas, I do believe that's my uterus poking through my former flat, rock hard abs. So that's what's been going down this week. I've just been growing humans. What have you guys been up to?

Saving Lives, One Night At A Time

JD snores. Bad, but only when he's sleeping on his back. Which is about half the night. So it's a problem. My problem apparently because he sleeps just fine through all of that log sawing. I, however, do not. The solution is pretty simple. It involves a few quick jabs in his side and a "honey, roll over you're snoring" and voila, he rolls over and the snoring ceases. Except the next morning he gives me this annoying lecture on how I better not be messing with his sleep by waking him up, blah blah. He claims that if he's snoring, it means that he's sleeping really, really good. I, on the other hand, am not.

After some other weird sleep issues, JD was prompted to see a specialist for a sleep study. He had to sleep in a clinic while hooked up to a bunch of monitors. He said that it was awful, nurses kept coming in to check on him and reposition him if he moved something connected to him. There were lots of interruptions. He said it was much like a night at home with me. Hmmph. We got the results of his sleep study on Monday and he is normal except for some restless leg syndrome. Don't get me started on the freakin restless leg. Oy. That's a whole other blog post. The snoring, however is a sign of not breathing efficiently enough. His body is struggling for air so his nose morphs into a chainsaw and basically chops the air into tiny(er) particles to fit into his lungs. Or something like that. The doctor's prescription? HAVE HIS WIFE WAKE HIM UP! Or sew tennis balls into pockets on the back of his shirt which is just plain weird. Not to mention impossible since he sleeps shirtless. But I digress.

Basically, it all boils down to the fact that I have been saving his life every time I elbow him in the ribs.
JD is not thrilled about what the doctor said. He hates admitting that his wife is not wrong. He hates it so much that he can't even say that I'm right. Just "not wrong." Thankfully the snoring has not been an issue in a few days. The doctor also said to avoid sleeping on his back so he has been side sleeping, thus not snoring. I told him he should be able to sleep way sounder now knowing that I'm there to keep him alive and breathing no matter what. He is beyond thrilled. At least he's stopped with the lectures.

Done

I nursed my baby toddler for the last time this morning. I didn't know it at the time, but after coming to terms that she's just not that into it anymore, today I decided to be done.

This has been a very emotional decision for me. When I went to my first OB appointment at 5 weeks, my doctor told me to stop nursing. There are mixed opinions, but certain studies suggest that breast feeding while pregnant can cause preterm labor and other complications. I'm not sure where I stand on this debate because I've read valid points on both sides of the argument. But the thought of trying to wean while I was about to give birth only to have to start the whole shebang over again with baby #2 didn't sound appealing. And Beatrice was ready. So I have been weaning. And crying and crying.

I cried because as long as I've been a mommy, I've been nursing. It is apart of our relationship, our bond. I wondered how she would react to stopping and that made me cry. Thinking of her begging me for boovies while I denied her the only milk she's ever known was almost too much to bear. But as I dropped feedings, I realized that she didn't even notice. She was over it. And that made me cry most of all.

This morning I got up and greeted my smiling baby toddler standing in her crib. I took her to the changing table to change her diaper wondering if she would ask for boovies. She did and I was relieved. So much of me is not ready to let go of this with her. We rocked and nursed for approximately 1 minute. And she was done. She slid off of my lap and asked for her snack. With my boovies still out and about I asked if she wanted more milkies and she said no while shaking her head back and forth. She was done.

So that's it I suppose. It would be kind of gross to keep forcing my boovies on her if she's not into it anymore. I'm okay with that, I think. It's just hard and sad to end that chapter that we both began together 15 months ago without so much as a goodbye. Just a no. "No more boovies, mommy. Sheesh." JD makes fun of me when I cry. When I explained that I have no baby to nurse anymore he said that in about 6 more months I will have another and I get to start all over again. He's right. It's not easy though. I don't know how to be a mommy that doesn't nurse. I guess I will just have to learn. And cry.