This is So Not Romantic

Last night, when I got up at around 2am with heart burn for only the second time in my life, and I sat there for like 30 minutes until it subsided enough for me to go back to sleep, I started contemplating all the misconceptions there are about pregnancy.  Yes, I was hating on it.  The thing is, I think that long before we have children, we are very misguided and uninformed.  Not only about the physical aspects about pregnancy, but we have no understanding of the emotional toll that being pregnant takes, either.
I think the biggest emotional misconception is that we, especially as women, have some very miss guided notion that pregnancy is some romantic thing we do with out partner to bring us closer together.  In fact, I believe that is also part of the teen pregnancy problem.  They see this as something that they will do with their boyfriend that will only cement their relationship.

Let me clear that up.  Getting pregnant is the romantic part.  Being pregnant is not.

There is absolutely nothing romantic about spending three months of your life hunched over a toilet or sink, ralphing your guts up every day, while your partner either tries to stay out of the way, or gets so sick they can't take it, either.  They may feel for you.  They may have sympathy.  My husband did the first time around.  He tried to be sweet, caught up in the emotion that this was our child, and something he should be a part of.  As I would lean over the sink, and vomit to the point I felt like it was never going to stop, at first, he would try to rub my back, or talk to me.  It only took a few times, though, for me to indicate, in probably the most blunt tactless way possible, that I didn't want to be touched while vomiting, for him to realize that wasn't the best role for him.  Get me a towel or wash cloth ready so that I can clean up afterward, and just don't say anything about how bad I look from the extreme exhaustion and vomiting, and you're good.

When you lay in bed, unable to sleep because all of the extra hormones in your body cause insomnia, and he lays beside you snoring, unwilling to stay up with you and snuggle, or even totally unaware of how little sleep you are getting, it isn't romantic.  In fact, it gets to be a tad infuriating.  Many nights, I have felt like taking a cue from someone I know, who once told me that she would sit up at night, pregnant and unable to sleep, and tap her husband's eyelids.  Apparently, it is just aggravating enough that they can't sleep well, and wake up all groggy, but not forceful enough to actually have them wake up and know what you are doing.   I call that brilliant and it is exactly what I feel like doing.

That is just the beginning, too.  Your body changes, adding stretch marks, and growing in places you don't really want it to.  Even though the fact that your boobs get bigger may sound like a plus, that is all until you realize that they will start to leak a little right around the time the baby comes.  Of course, in the end, there is the delivery, something that I think is the antithesis of the romance of conceiving.  While I will never deliver vaginally,  I can't imagine that watching a baby get pushed out of your vagina creates feelings of romance.  Love, certainly.  Awe, surely.  Not romance, though.
I'm not sure why people think all of this is supposed to be some romantic fantasy.  I can assure you, it really isn't.
I'm not saying that, when you are ready for children, they aren't worth it.  I just think that people need to know the truth, especially young people.  This part isn't pretty.  It isn't fun.  At least, not for me.
So, when you are ready, have kids.  Lots of them.  Just go into it knowing the good stuff comes after the baby is born.  New stuff that you will love and the romance will come back, too.  When it does, you will appreciate it so much more than before, too, that you will love and appreciate what romance you do get all the more.

She Isn't Quite So Little Anymore

The Little One, my soon to be middle child, isn't quite so little anymore.  She just turned four years old.  I forget that she isn't a baby anymore.  She reminds me all the time, in the best of ways.  She can write her name.  She can not only count, but with a little help, she can count to 100.  She can do simple addition by herself.  She does all these things, and sometimes I have to step back, remembering that she isn't so tiny.
She is funny, spunky, sweet, and adorable.  She is very intelligent and insightful.  She is fantastic, all around, and I truly believe she will grow up to be an amazing young woman.
Happy Birthday to you, my darling!  I love you forever!

Such Skinny Babies

Today, I had another OB appointment.  I was really anxious to get to this one after the ultra sound last Friday was iffy.
The Tech had indicated that the baby was a little too thin, and made me worry.
At today's appointment, the Dr measured me and confirmed I was still measuring ahead.  Then we listened to the strong heart beat.  She checked me over, looked at her chart, and said everything was good.  I ask about the ultra sound, and told her what the tech had been concerned about.  She looked at the numbers a couple of times and was surprised the tech has said anything.  Yes, the baby is thin.  It looks like it is measuring almost a couple of weeks behind in weight, but nothing too alarming.  Her height, though, seems to be way off.  She is really long, like 3 plus weeks ahead.  It seems like her height is so much ahead, that it makes her look even tinier, even though she is fine.  The Dr's opinion, another long, skinny baby coming, and all is well.

It should be illegal for ultrasound techs to scare pregnant women like that.  We just can't handle it, or at least I can't.
I called My Husband as soon as we got out, and he may have been gloating a little about how right he was, which I gave him credit for, but I was so relieved when I told him that I didn't care if he gloated, and I almost started crying on the phone.  The crying should have been expected.  I am so thankful that she seems to be fine!!!
I'm not sure how I keep making all these long skinny kids, but as ironic as it seems to be, all my kids come out that way.  Never having had a vaginal birth, I can't say that it really makes a difference to me how fluffy they are, as long as they are healthy.  I suppose that would be yet another irony right there.  Regardless, I am a happy camper at the moment, feet in my rib cage and all.

Remember When...

A while back, while in the grips of the pregnancy nausea monster, I said I wish I could just be tired.  I lamented on how much easier it would be, to be tired rather than nauseous.

Now, in the third trimester, at 34 weeks, the nausea has passed, and I am just tired, and this sucks.  I know, I know, through the few months of the pregnancy, I've said "this sucks" more than a twelve year old boy does in a year, but it is true!
I am exhausted this morning.  I'm really not sure how I even have enough energy to be typing this.  At this point, I am so exhausted, that my fingers should even be asleep on the keys.  I'm sure this post will be laced with even more grammatical errors than normal, should that be possible.
A big part of the problem, though, is that I lack enough caffeine.  I am officially restricting that because she is still inside me.  Once she comes out, I feel like it should be ok to up my dose of that God sent drug a bit, and I should be at least a little bit better.  Until then, though, I have to figure out how to do everything I need to do, while basically asleep on the inside.

It isn't easy to take care of The Girls, and the house, and everything else, especially since I am functioning as a single parent at the moment, thank you U.S. Navy.  I know, though, that I will survive this, too.  Truthfully, given the choice, I think I would still take the tired over the nausea, but that doesn't make it suck any less.

We Won't Do That Again

Today, I had to have blood taken yet again during this pregnancy.  I have a condition called hypothyroidism that requires life long monitoring and it is especially important during pregnancy.  It was time for another check.
Up to this point, I had managed to have My Husband around most of the time when I needed blood drawn so that The Girls could stay with him.  The one time he couldn't be there, The Little One went with me.  I was worried about taking her with me, but more so because I was afraid of my reaction in front of her, rather than her own reaction.  I almost always start to cry when I have blood taken, and have to deep breath to keep from freaking and/or passing out.  Having your child with you, though, makes you straighten up and act right, if at all possible.  When she went, I did my level best to stay very calm and focus on her.  For one moment, she looked like she might get upset, but I started to talk to her, and reassure her that I was ok, and she was fine.  In fact, having her there, and being focused on keeping her calm, probably helped me and made me calmer than I ever had been before.
Today, though, I waited too late to go during school, and I had to get this done.  That means both girls had to go with me.
Of the two girls, I would say that The Little One is the tougher of the two when it comes to all things "owie".  She gets a bump, and just rolls on.  When she has gotten shots, she gives the nurse a mean look, tells her it hurts, and then moves on as soon as a sucker is dangled before her.  The Big One is far more dramatic.  Everything is life ending, no matter what it is, when it comes to medical procedures.  Getting a splinter out of her finger probably sounds like I am actually removing the finger to anyone listening.  The idea of taking her with me wasn't my first choice, but by then, I really didn't have another.

On the way to pick The Big One up from school, I let The Little One know that we were going to go have let someone take some blood from mommy.  She was pretty ok with it, as long as they weren't taking pee too this time, which is apparently for more disturbing to her than having them take and test my blood.  Then, I told her that her big sister would probably get upset, and I really needed her to hold her sister's hand, and make sure she was ok.  I know that sounds odd, asking the nearly 4 year old to comfort the nearly 8 year old, but if you know them, you know I meant it.

We get The Big One and I tell her where we are going.  She immediately cringes as I start telling her.  Then, bless her heart, The Little One turns to The Big One and tells her that she knows she will be scared, but it will be ok, because they will hold hands, and the Little One promises to take care of her.  It was adorable.

Right before we left for the lab, My Husband managed to call home, and I joked with him that I would have The Big One turn and face the wall so that she wouldn't see anything.  I didn't need to be worried about that, at least.  When they called us back to the room, she actually turned toward the wall, without my ever saying anything to her, and said she didnt' want to see anything.  She tried to make The Little One face the wall as well, but that wasn't going to happen.  The Little One wasn't scared, didn't care, and didn't want to face the wall.
It takes the phlebotomist a minute or so to find a vein that will work, as I also happen to be a hard stick.  I'm trying to remain very calm, and not even breath like it is bothering me.  It takes a couple of minutes to get the blood, but she finally gets enough.  She puts the gauze on, and has me hold it.  Now, at this point, I am totally fine.  Once the needle is gone, I could care less what else happens.  The Big One is still standing there, back turned, but that is all I can really see as the phlebotomist was blocking my view.  As soon as she moves, though, I saw her crying.  She was upset.  Shaking a little, but trying her best to be ok.  I knew she wasn't.  I started talking to her.  I couldn't get up yet and that was all I could do.  "I'm ok."  "It's ok". Those were the only things i could say to her.  As soon is I could get up, I put my arms around her and hugged her.  She took a minute, and calmed down.  I had to make her know that I was ok, though.

Later on in the evening, she came to me, and tried to take my arm to look at the tape and gauze still on it.  She wanted to make sure I was ok.  I pulled my arm back, and just pulled her too me for a hug, instead.  I didn't even want her to see it, because I am pretty sure just the sight of the bandage would bother her.

I love that girl dearly, and I know she is really a sensitive, sweet child.  She will always be the one who needs extra love when we have to do anything medical.  I know she will probably get upset when she comes to see me in the hospital, and I am slowly trying to prepare her now.  I am so thankful that she will have MimMim here then, who will be able to give her all the extra loving she needs to get through something that will be hard for her to see, too.  Hopefully, we can keep her focused on the good things, like her new little sister, and keep her from thinking about the bad stuff.   I will try to keep all that away from her as much as possible, and that includes any more blood draws from here on out.

Why I love This

I love this picture.  I love finding little gems like this one on the internet.

I don't care about the supermodel in the back ground rubbing lotion on herself.  I honestly can't say I even know who she is except that TMZ mentioned her name.
It would be the men in the foreground that make me smile.  Just to be clear, it is not because they are naked old men, that is a little disturbing, but because they are totally naked, letting it all hang out according to the necessary star there, except for the hats and glasses.  I guess when naked sunbathing, protecting at least your face from the harmful rays of the sun is still important.  Not so much with any other body part.  Fantastic.

The Night Acrobat

I just wanted to share yet another reason that I can't sleep at night any more.
The moment I lay down, on my side since both back and stomach are no longer allowed, The Littlest One starts to pummel me.  She lays caddy corner right now, and I get kicked on either side just under my rib cage for quite some time.  I don't mind, though.  Really.  Its actually kind of fun.  She kicks and goes nuts until she readjusts.  Just about the time she gets quiet, I swear I end up rolling over, and we start all over again.  It has become our nightly ritual.
See, the good times are already rolling with this one.  = )