The Club

When I had Beatrice, I fully expected to be welcomed into the not-so-secret-but-pretty-exclusive parenthood club. The one that welcomes new members with open arms and loads of support. We were all in this thing called child rearing together, after all. We would need each other. While I did find myself in this so-called "club" upon birthing my first child, I found it to be anything but supportive. There is more judgment than support, more criticism than approval, and more division than encouragement. This community of parents has the potential to really help, but instead most often tears others down leaving them feeling completely alone.

I found out right away that other parents have a lot of opinions on how you feed your child. Whether or not you breast feed or formula feed, someone else has something to say about it. To your face. I did breast feed and while I was met mostly with support and accolades from others, I found it interesting (and kind of weird) that other folks felt so strongly about those that do not breast feed. It was as though other parents knew what was best for another family and clearly, it was breast feeding. But the major atrocity was if you didn't breast feed, your membership in the club was earmarked for nonconformance. You were flagged for being different and that my friends, is frowned upon. Just so you know, us breast feeders weren't celebrated by everyone. I got the occasional "when are you going to start feeding that baby real milk (aka formula) because she is obviously starving?" Arrrgh. 


As your child gets older, you can fully expect to be judged on your discipline methods. If you spank, you are automatically out of the club. Your membership is revoked and you are blacklisted forever. If you use any method of discipline deemed acceptable by your grandmother's generation, you might as well hand over your ID card because you will be banned for lack of open mindedness. It suits everyone best if you just don't speak about how you plan to or currently are handling the discipline in your household. You will be judged to high Heaven no matter what you say. Trust me on this.

The list of examples of how parents tear each other apart instead of build each other up is endless. The debates rage on about vaccines and medicine and education, but instead of simply debating these subjects, we are attacking other people for their differences. It's as if we are threatened beyond coping abilities at the differences we see in other people's parenting decisions. I say as long as no one is abusing a child, live and let live people.

I have been labeled an alternative parent. This just means that I don't follow suit with the newest child psychologists' theories on how to feed/sleep train/discipline/etc. I tend to take my grandmother's advice over my neighbor's. We take parenting classes at church instead of reading the latest secular child rearing book. I'm totally okay with being different. I am learning to be okay with being criticized from parents that do things differently. I'm not okay with being called a bad parent because I choose to parent differently than the masses. But that's what happens when you don't follow suit.

It has been such a huge disappointment to learn that my fellow new mommies judge me for taking away Beatrice's pacifier at 11 months. Or whatever thing we moms judge each other for. It's disheartening to know that if I really do need support during a temper tantrum or a nap strike, I cannot call on any ol' mommy to hear my woes. The chances of me getting berated for what I think is an appropriate course of action is greater than sympathy and well wishes from someone that doesn't do things exactly like me.

This is sad. I'm not naive enough to believe that everyone will agree, but I don't think it's too far fetched to respect other parents' decisions to make different choices. This community of parents has so much potential to support others and be a place to learn other approaches to parenting, but if we are constantly judging and tearing each other down for our differences, that will never happen. We will be stuck in a club that really only accepts those that do things exactly like everyone else.

14 Weeks

I'm a little late on my weekly progress report but I have valid excuses. My brother's wedding, lots of resting, and eating everything in sight has kept me pretty busy this week. I feel completely better. The flu ick is gone along with the morning sickness. I should be pretty happy about these things - and I am - but it basically means that in no time I will be eating 2 breakfasts and purchasing whole cakes as an afternoon snack. I gain a lot of weight while pregnant, and this week validates that. Sigh.

Stats


Weight gain: I don't think I want to play this game anymore. At least not weekly. Since this is my blog and I'm starting to gain ridiculous amounts of weight in a matter of days, I'm going to withhold answering this portion of the stats. At least until my next doctor's visit next week.
Stretch marks: None.
Movement: It's hard to tell. I'm feeling the tiny, bubbly flutters I've been feeling for a few weeks now, but they could very well be fluttery gas bubbles.
Cravings: Everything. Enough said.
Sleep: I've been sleeping great. And with Beatrice sleeping until 9 a few mornings this weekend, I am feeling mighty rested these days.
Best moment of the week: Stepping into the 2nd trimester and realizing that I only have 5 more months to meet this baby.
Gender: I'm starting to wonder if it's a girl since I keep having girl dreams.
Labor signs: None.
Belly button situation: In, but surrounded by a big, fat belly full of apple fritters and Girl Scout cookies.
What I miss: Red wine sips would be nice every once in awhile.
What I'm looking forward to: Finding out the sex in a few weeks.
Weekly wisdom: Indulging in filet mignon 2 nights in a row along with lots of wedding cake results in more than a few extra pounds....
Milestones: I can no longer say that I have not gained any weight with this pregnancy yet.

Picture? Why yes!

Here's one from 2 years ago with Beatrice.

I think I'm bigger this time around.

They Did

My little brother married his Jenni this weekend. It was beautiful and emotional and joyous.

I love weddings. They remind me of the promises that JD and I made to each other almost 3 years ago. They remind me of the love that Christ has for His Church, His Bride. They remind me of God's purpose for couples and the magnitude of a love shared for Him. I'm a big ol' sack of emotions during weddings and this one was no different.

I just happened to try on my dress 2 nights before the wedding to discover that the strap kit accompanying the dress did not hook or snap in. Thank God for mother's in law with sewing skills and spare time.

We are all so thrilled to have grown 1 more family member larger this weekend. Congrats Grant and Jenni. May your lives be filled with happiness and love and as many babies as you want. I love you both.

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.