She grows, oh how she grows.
My little girl is now weighing in at a whopping 12 pounds 12 ounces (she was 6 pounds 8.5 ounces when we left the hospital) which puts her at the 90-95% on the charts. She is also 24" long which puts her at the 97% on the charts. Developmentally she is right on track.
Boob juice, it does a baby good.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The sick mommy
All the sleep deprivation of the last few months seem to have finally taken their toll and I am so totally and completely sick. Started on Monday and here I sit on Thursday still feeling like a hammer to the head would feel better than the sinus headache I am enduring.
Yesterday I made Dave take a sick day and today he pretty much played hookie. I've seen my daughter for feedings and have hardly seen my son at all. He misses me.
My big baby is almost 4.5 years old and I still think of him as my baby. He still has dimples on his hands rather than knuckles and still has yummy baby cheeks that I want to eat up. My little baby is developing chunk all over and also has yummy cheeks I want to eat up. I've had to keep my distance because I am sick.
I can't wait to eat those yummy cheeks again.
Yesterday I made Dave take a sick day and today he pretty much played hookie. I've seen my daughter for feedings and have hardly seen my son at all. He misses me.
My big baby is almost 4.5 years old and I still think of him as my baby. He still has dimples on his hands rather than knuckles and still has yummy baby cheeks that I want to eat up. My little baby is developing chunk all over and also has yummy cheeks I want to eat up. I've had to keep my distance because I am sick.
I can't wait to eat those yummy cheeks again.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Dreams
Dylan has finally started telling us about his dreams. The other night he dreamt he went sledding with Dave and fell and slipped on the ice. It's made us laugh and has also made us very happy we're creating dream worthy memories with him.
Dreams are a strange thing. They are the images we see while our eyes are closed. They are wishes for the future. They reveal our fears, our desires. They allow us to relive our past and maybe get a glimpse into the future. I have had only one dream about my baby during both of my pregnancies. When I was about 6 months pregnant with Sasha I had a dream I had a baby girl and she looked just like me. Well, here she is and she does.
We can even be stalked in our dreams. For years I would have dreams about a specific ex-boyfriend finding me. About running into him randomly and having to deal with the one person I never, EVER, want to see again. I think those dreams have finally stopped. But you never know when they might be back.
I feel I am at a point where I have stopped having dreams for myself. All my dreams these days are for my children. For them to grow up and be happy, be healthy, have fulfilling lives. To be educated, to value what that education brings to their lives and to someday have families of their own and know the love and happiness having children brings. I dream my children will be close the way my brother and I are to each other. To know that no matter what, they have each other. Yes, my dreams are for my children.
I have also come to realize I need to start dreaming for myself again, too. I need to think about myself in terms of me. Clara. Not always mom or wife. Sometimes it's just me and that it's ok to just think about me. To dream for just me. To dream about the places I'd like to go. The places I haven't been because I chose to have children young. To dream about the adventures I would like to have. To dream of the week long spa vacation with girlfriends I swear I will take someday to rediscover who I am without having to take care of my husband or kids. To dream of the business I will start someday. To work for myself and make my own rules. To truly benefit from my own work and know that my success or failure is based on me and me alone. To dream of perfecting a cheesecake one day - the only thing I bake. To dream of having the time to take a cooking class here and there.
Every night, the dreams keep coming and I hope they never stop.
Dreams are a strange thing. They are the images we see while our eyes are closed. They are wishes for the future. They reveal our fears, our desires. They allow us to relive our past and maybe get a glimpse into the future. I have had only one dream about my baby during both of my pregnancies. When I was about 6 months pregnant with Sasha I had a dream I had a baby girl and she looked just like me. Well, here she is and she does.
We can even be stalked in our dreams. For years I would have dreams about a specific ex-boyfriend finding me. About running into him randomly and having to deal with the one person I never, EVER, want to see again. I think those dreams have finally stopped. But you never know when they might be back.
I feel I am at a point where I have stopped having dreams for myself. All my dreams these days are for my children. For them to grow up and be happy, be healthy, have fulfilling lives. To be educated, to value what that education brings to their lives and to someday have families of their own and know the love and happiness having children brings. I dream my children will be close the way my brother and I are to each other. To know that no matter what, they have each other. Yes, my dreams are for my children.
I have also come to realize I need to start dreaming for myself again, too. I need to think about myself in terms of me. Clara. Not always mom or wife. Sometimes it's just me and that it's ok to just think about me. To dream for just me. To dream about the places I'd like to go. The places I haven't been because I chose to have children young. To dream about the adventures I would like to have. To dream of the week long spa vacation with girlfriends I swear I will take someday to rediscover who I am without having to take care of my husband or kids. To dream of the business I will start someday. To work for myself and make my own rules. To truly benefit from my own work and know that my success or failure is based on me and me alone. To dream of perfecting a cheesecake one day - the only thing I bake. To dream of having the time to take a cooking class here and there.
Every night, the dreams keep coming and I hope they never stop.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
2 Months
I won't lie, the last 2 months have been very trying. Sasha doesn't like sleep, she doesn't like to lay down on the floor, she doesn't really like her crib.
However, no matter what, the last 2 months have also been fantastic as I watch a new person take shape before my very eyes. And, since I am always to be in the room with the little babe, my eyes are on her all the time. Her best feature is her smile. When she smiles she is completely lit up from within. It's as if the sun is literally shining on me through her.
She's definitely a different baby than Dylan was. Dylan loved to lounge on his own and stretch out. Sasha loves to be held and cuddles in so close I feel like she is going to make her back inside of me. She isn't a big fan of sleep during the day and she fights sleep like crazy. The only somewhat easy way to get her to sleep is to rock her then hold her in tight for almost an hour. Then, and only then, can we even dare to put her down to sleep for the night. Thankfully, then she sleeps.
I have spent a lot of time over the last two months thinking about what it means to have a daughter. Hoping I have with her what I have with my own mother. Hoping and dreaming that I will be close with my daughter.
I hope I will be the one she confides in the first time she kisses a boy, the first time she falls in love, the first time her heart is broken and all the other firsts along the way. I hope I'll be self aware enough during those times to remember how it feels and to remember how I didn't want to hear not to get too excited about the love, or that the heartbreak will end. I hope to remember that all I wanted was for someone to listen and be just as excited as I was or cry along side me. And, when or if she asks, I hope the have the courage to do something my own mother never did - to share my own experiences. The good, the bad, and the VERY ugly to help her learn about life.
I hope I have the courage to be honest with her when she asks me the hard questions. The questions that make me relive my past or reveal my pre-mom self to her. What was your first love like? Have you ever done drugs? When did you lose your virginity? What are your regrets in life? And when she asks me the toughest question of all , "What should I do?" I hope I have the strength to guide her to discover the answer on her own rather than just giving her the answer.
However, no matter what, the last 2 months have also been fantastic as I watch a new person take shape before my very eyes. And, since I am always to be in the room with the little babe, my eyes are on her all the time. Her best feature is her smile. When she smiles she is completely lit up from within. It's as if the sun is literally shining on me through her.
She's definitely a different baby than Dylan was. Dylan loved to lounge on his own and stretch out. Sasha loves to be held and cuddles in so close I feel like she is going to make her back inside of me. She isn't a big fan of sleep during the day and she fights sleep like crazy. The only somewhat easy way to get her to sleep is to rock her then hold her in tight for almost an hour. Then, and only then, can we even dare to put her down to sleep for the night. Thankfully, then she sleeps.
I have spent a lot of time over the last two months thinking about what it means to have a daughter. Hoping I have with her what I have with my own mother. Hoping and dreaming that I will be close with my daughter.
I hope I will be the one she confides in the first time she kisses a boy, the first time she falls in love, the first time her heart is broken and all the other firsts along the way. I hope I'll be self aware enough during those times to remember how it feels and to remember how I didn't want to hear not to get too excited about the love, or that the heartbreak will end. I hope to remember that all I wanted was for someone to listen and be just as excited as I was or cry along side me. And, when or if she asks, I hope the have the courage to do something my own mother never did - to share my own experiences. The good, the bad, and the VERY ugly to help her learn about life.
I hope I have the courage to be honest with her when she asks me the hard questions. The questions that make me relive my past or reveal my pre-mom self to her. What was your first love like? Have you ever done drugs? When did you lose your virginity? What are your regrets in life? And when she asks me the toughest question of all , "What should I do?" I hope I have the strength to guide her to discover the answer on her own rather than just giving her the answer.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Who I Was
Every now and then a person resurfaces from our past and reminds us of who we were before we knew who we were. Before we went through the self-discovery and self-awareness that comes with moving away from home, going through relationships, getting married and having children.
This happened to me recently. I was contacted by someone from my past who has made me reflect. He's made me reflect on the naive kid I was when I knew him.
I was a motorcycle jacket wearing, concert going, cigarette sneaking 15-year-old girl who so desperately wanted to be older. To move on to what was "important." To move on to college, moving out of mom and dad's house, on to career, to marriage, to family. I was so concerned with what the future might hold I never properly enjoyed the moment.
In true teenage girl fashion, EVERYTHING was the end of the world. I was much weaker then than I would like to admit. I hurt too easily. I took everything to heart. Every friendship was to last forever and every word spoken cut me to my core.
I was the girl who trusted everyone and loved too easily. I was the girl who took longer to get over her first heartbreak than the relationship lasted in the first place. I learned a lot in the process of getting over it and I'm eternally grateful for that learning. I learned that I would not allow anyone to take away my happiness or, rather, allow myself to think it had been taken. I learned that my happiness is in my own hands. I know no one can dictate how I feel except for me.
There are other things I learned the year I knew my old friend. I learned girls are mean and will stab you in the back in a blink of an eye if it suits their needs. I learned that some friendships are only meant to exist for short periods of time.
Since then, I learned that some lessons if life hurt like hell while you are going through them, but are worth it in the end. I've also learned I wouldn't be who I am without having been who I was.
This happened to me recently. I was contacted by someone from my past who has made me reflect. He's made me reflect on the naive kid I was when I knew him.
I was a motorcycle jacket wearing, concert going, cigarette sneaking 15-year-old girl who so desperately wanted to be older. To move on to what was "important." To move on to college, moving out of mom and dad's house, on to career, to marriage, to family. I was so concerned with what the future might hold I never properly enjoyed the moment.
In true teenage girl fashion, EVERYTHING was the end of the world. I was much weaker then than I would like to admit. I hurt too easily. I took everything to heart. Every friendship was to last forever and every word spoken cut me to my core.
I was the girl who trusted everyone and loved too easily. I was the girl who took longer to get over her first heartbreak than the relationship lasted in the first place. I learned a lot in the process of getting over it and I'm eternally grateful for that learning. I learned that I would not allow anyone to take away my happiness or, rather, allow myself to think it had been taken. I learned that my happiness is in my own hands. I know no one can dictate how I feel except for me.
There are other things I learned the year I knew my old friend. I learned girls are mean and will stab you in the back in a blink of an eye if it suits their needs. I learned that some friendships are only meant to exist for short periods of time.
Since then, I learned that some lessons if life hurt like hell while you are going through them, but are worth it in the end. I've also learned I wouldn't be who I am without having been who I was.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Oh the blues...
I have the baby blues and I think my baby also has the blues.
Sasha is doing well, in general. However, she's still awfully sleepy which can be attributed to the fact that she is, apparently, anemic and still jaundiced. The plan for treatment is "wait and see" for now. She also has reflux which means when she is sleeping she frequently wakes to let out a cry of discomfort. For that, she's on Zantac. We're hoping to see an improvement in her comfort in the next couple of days.
I have the baby blues. I'm really hoping it's not full-fledged PPD, but not entirely sure yet. All in all, things are going well in our little house. Dylan is well adjusted, Dave has been great, Sasha is generally OK. BUT, the combination of sleep deprivation and hormones have produced almost daily crying jags for ME. It's always in the evening when it seems like things are starting to wind down. Not coincidentally, it's also when Sasha goes into her 2-3 hours of cluster feeding every 45 minutes.
I can't even describe what I feel. It's a combination of hopelessness, uselessness, exhaustion, helplessness and failure. I feel I'm failing I'm oldest by not being able to tuck him in before bed some nights because my youngest is nursing. I'm failing my youngest because she has a couple of issues. I'm failing my husband because I'm losing it and can't even get dinner on the table. I'm failing myself because I can't let myself take a night off and sleep in a different room for fear of failing my baby by not nursing her.
I'm also very down about myself physically. I'm not one of those women who feels proud of her body after baby. I see a body which is 6 pounds away from prepreg weight and has been stuck there for 3 weeks. I see a woman who has a saggy belly and veiny boobs. I see love handles which never existed before. Yes, because of the blues I mentioned above, I can't bring myself to do anything about it.
I'm hoping it will all change soon.
Sasha is doing well, in general. However, she's still awfully sleepy which can be attributed to the fact that she is, apparently, anemic and still jaundiced. The plan for treatment is "wait and see" for now. She also has reflux which means when she is sleeping she frequently wakes to let out a cry of discomfort. For that, she's on Zantac. We're hoping to see an improvement in her comfort in the next couple of days.
I have the baby blues. I'm really hoping it's not full-fledged PPD, but not entirely sure yet. All in all, things are going well in our little house. Dylan is well adjusted, Dave has been great, Sasha is generally OK. BUT, the combination of sleep deprivation and hormones have produced almost daily crying jags for ME. It's always in the evening when it seems like things are starting to wind down. Not coincidentally, it's also when Sasha goes into her 2-3 hours of cluster feeding every 45 minutes.
I can't even describe what I feel. It's a combination of hopelessness, uselessness, exhaustion, helplessness and failure. I feel I'm failing I'm oldest by not being able to tuck him in before bed some nights because my youngest is nursing. I'm failing my youngest because she has a couple of issues. I'm failing my husband because I'm losing it and can't even get dinner on the table. I'm failing myself because I can't let myself take a night off and sleep in a different room for fear of failing my baby by not nursing her.
I'm also very down about myself physically. I'm not one of those women who feels proud of her body after baby. I see a body which is 6 pounds away from prepreg weight and has been stuck there for 3 weeks. I see a woman who has a saggy belly and veiny boobs. I see love handles which never existed before. Yes, because of the blues I mentioned above, I can't bring myself to do anything about it.
I'm hoping it will all change soon.
SHE's here...
A day late and a dollar short I am happy to announce we had a baby girl. Her name is Alexandra Naomi, we'll call her Sasha, and she's wonderful.
Stats:
Born May 16, 2007 @ 9:42 am weighing in at 6lbs. 15.4 ozs. and measuring 20 inches.
At one month, she's already almost 10 lbs.
Delivery was very smooth with me pushing for a total of 5 minutes. The lack of pushing almost made up for the 7.5 hours of unmedicated back labor that preceeded delivery.
Dylan has, as expected, adjusted beautifully. He's ridiculously protective and possesive of his baby sister and also ridiculously understanding of the fact that mommy can no longer be at his beck and call because I have to feed his sister. All. The. Time.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Waiting Game/Crying Game
Waiting Game
Tomorrow I am officially 38 weeks pregnant. I don't think I could be any more sick of being pregnant than I am right now. Although, I'm sure next week I will be even sicker of it. I am so ready to meet this little person. Ready to make his or her aquaintance and look into what are sure to be beautiful eyes which allow me to see into a beautiful new soul. I can't wait to go home and be a new family, again. To experience all the ups and downs of having a newborn. I even can't wait to press this baby to my chest and nurse him or her. Although, I expect that, as with Dylan, the nursing will be painful for quite some time. I want to count fingers and toes and stare. Stare with awe at the new life. Stare at myself with awe at how my belly which was full of baby just a few moments ago is empty and I am now holding that baby. I remember that so well with D. Looking at him in those first few minutes and looking at myself and wondering how I did that. How he was now breathing and blinking and moving and just minutes prior he was still inside of me. It's mind boggling.
I'm tired of waiting.
Crying Game
Hormones are crazy and at the moment they are in their full raging glory. I have been an emotional basket case lately and have been crying at the drop of a hat. Crying out of sadness, joy, frustration, anger and just plain old impatience.
As I have reread my last post, it has brought tears to my eyes every. single. time. The hormones are to blame, in part. The bigger part is taking a few moments to reflect in my own mommy awesomeness and the impact that has made on my son. He's such a great kid - happy, fun, smart, compassionate, passionate. All the things I hope he holds on to forever. All the things I hope I can keep fostering as I parent another child and all the things I hope I can instill in the baby.
Tomorrow I am officially 38 weeks pregnant. I don't think I could be any more sick of being pregnant than I am right now. Although, I'm sure next week I will be even sicker of it. I am so ready to meet this little person. Ready to make his or her aquaintance and look into what are sure to be beautiful eyes which allow me to see into a beautiful new soul. I can't wait to go home and be a new family, again. To experience all the ups and downs of having a newborn. I even can't wait to press this baby to my chest and nurse him or her. Although, I expect that, as with Dylan, the nursing will be painful for quite some time. I want to count fingers and toes and stare. Stare with awe at the new life. Stare at myself with awe at how my belly which was full of baby just a few moments ago is empty and I am now holding that baby. I remember that so well with D. Looking at him in those first few minutes and looking at myself and wondering how I did that. How he was now breathing and blinking and moving and just minutes prior he was still inside of me. It's mind boggling.
I'm tired of waiting.
Crying Game
Hormones are crazy and at the moment they are in their full raging glory. I have been an emotional basket case lately and have been crying at the drop of a hat. Crying out of sadness, joy, frustration, anger and just plain old impatience.
As I have reread my last post, it has brought tears to my eyes every. single. time. The hormones are to blame, in part. The bigger part is taking a few moments to reflect in my own mommy awesomeness and the impact that has made on my son. He's such a great kid - happy, fun, smart, compassionate, passionate. All the things I hope he holds on to forever. All the things I hope I can keep fostering as I parent another child and all the things I hope I can instill in the baby.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Oh yeah, I'm good
The ever wise-beyond-her-years GGC posted about being a good parent and has encouraged the rest of us to do the same.
I'm a good mom. There, I said it. I don't know why it's so hard for all us to say, but it's true. Dylan is a wonderful kid and Dave and I are his favorite people in the world. There must be a reason for that. There must be a reason for the smiles I get and the unsolicited "Mommy, I love you." and hugs and big sloppy kisses.
I'm a good mom. There, I said it. I don't know why it's so hard for all us to say, but it's true. Dylan is a wonderful kid and Dave and I are his favorite people in the world. There must be a reason for that. There must be a reason for the smiles I get and the unsolicited "Mommy, I love you." and hugs and big sloppy kisses.
There must be a reason the boy wants to snuggle with me every morning. There must be a reason, beyond his biology, for his well-mannered behavior, his politeness, his comfort in his own skin.
I want everything for him. Everything I had and didn't have. Everything I never knew I wanted until I had my own. I want him to have boundaries yet feel confident enough to push them. I want him to have pride yet be humble. I want him to know that no matter what, we are always in his corner. I work hard to do these things for him everyday and that makes me a great mom.
I love the mom I am. I am a fun, silly, get down on the floor and roll around type of mom and I am an authoritative type of mom. Somehow I can flip-flop between the two without confusing or alienating my child. Somehow I have found the balance that keeps my kid fun and goofy and loving yet respectful and disciplined all at the same time.
I'm a great mom because in four years, I have never raised my voice out of anger. I have never struck out in any way shape or form, I have put him first. He knows that if we leave, we come back. That if we say something will happen (be it reward or consequence) it will happen. I believe this makes him confident. Most of all, Dylan is a happy child and knows he is loved to pieces. And that, alone, tells me I'm doing something right.
I love the mom I am. I am a fun, silly, get down on the floor and roll around type of mom and I am an authoritative type of mom. Somehow I can flip-flop between the two without confusing or alienating my child. Somehow I have found the balance that keeps my kid fun and goofy and loving yet respectful and disciplined all at the same time.
I'm a great mom because in four years, I have never raised my voice out of anger. I have never struck out in any way shape or form, I have put him first. He knows that if we leave, we come back. That if we say something will happen (be it reward or consequence) it will happen. I believe this makes him confident. Most of all, Dylan is a happy child and knows he is loved to pieces. And that, alone, tells me I'm doing something right.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
30...redeemed
Turning 30 turned out to be a lot better than I expected. My girls pulled through and arranged a lovely dinner to celebrate my bday. Just a few good friends, good conversation and good food. Dave pulled through big time. I spent my actual birthday lunching and being pedicured and massaged. He arranged everything and left nothing up to me - which was fantastic. I'm the organizer, the planner and to not have to do that for a day was wonderful.
All in all it was a great day.
All in all it was a great day.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Invisible
Lately I feel completely and totally invisible. Like if I disappeared tomorrow, no one would really notice.
It seems what I want is always out of reach and what I desire is being yanked away and the end result is feeling like I don't matter at all and am invisible.
In 10 days I turn 30. I have no problem with turning 30. Don't really care. What I do care about, and what's leading to feeling so invisible, is that no one else seems to care either. I have planned countless parties for friends. 30th birthday parties, 29th birthday parties, etc. With the exception of 1 bridal shower and 1 baby shower, no one has ever planned anything for me or even offered. And now, it hurts. When my husband turned 30 I planned his gifts from me, his parents and my parents to all fit together. I planned a surprise party 2 months in advance. When 2 of my girlfriends were turning 30 I planned their parties too. Over a month in advance to make sure everyone could make it. Well, not it's my turn and not a word has been mentioned by anyone. Don't even have dinner reservations. Happy fucking birthday to me.
I will give credit where credit is due. My mother is having a dinner for me Saturday with our family and my brother and his girlfriend are coming here for the weekend. But even that is not without some hurt feelings. Dinner is a week early because brother dear is going on vacation.
So much of my life seems to be devoted to making other people happy. To finding all the little things to help them out and make their lives a little sunnier. So much of my life is spent without sunlight or happiness and it's a side of my world I keep pretty well hidden. Over the last 15 years or so I have become really good at faking it.
There are moments of happiness here and there. Most of them involve Dylan.
There are times when I think I simply expect too much. That no one can possibly live up to this mystical set of standards I have for people. That if I just lower my expectations, I won't be disappointed. And then, when the phone never rings and the emails never ding, I won't feel quite as invisible.
It seems what I want is always out of reach and what I desire is being yanked away and the end result is feeling like I don't matter at all and am invisible.
In 10 days I turn 30. I have no problem with turning 30. Don't really care. What I do care about, and what's leading to feeling so invisible, is that no one else seems to care either. I have planned countless parties for friends. 30th birthday parties, 29th birthday parties, etc. With the exception of 1 bridal shower and 1 baby shower, no one has ever planned anything for me or even offered. And now, it hurts. When my husband turned 30 I planned his gifts from me, his parents and my parents to all fit together. I planned a surprise party 2 months in advance. When 2 of my girlfriends were turning 30 I planned their parties too. Over a month in advance to make sure everyone could make it. Well, not it's my turn and not a word has been mentioned by anyone. Don't even have dinner reservations. Happy fucking birthday to me.
I will give credit where credit is due. My mother is having a dinner for me Saturday with our family and my brother and his girlfriend are coming here for the weekend. But even that is not without some hurt feelings. Dinner is a week early because brother dear is going on vacation.
So much of my life seems to be devoted to making other people happy. To finding all the little things to help them out and make their lives a little sunnier. So much of my life is spent without sunlight or happiness and it's a side of my world I keep pretty well hidden. Over the last 15 years or so I have become really good at faking it.
There are moments of happiness here and there. Most of them involve Dylan.
There are times when I think I simply expect too much. That no one can possibly live up to this mystical set of standards I have for people. That if I just lower my expectations, I won't be disappointed. And then, when the phone never rings and the emails never ding, I won't feel quite as invisible.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Scared...
When I was 7 months pregnant with Dylan I wasn't the least bit scared of what I would do when I brought my little bundle home. It seemed easy. It was easy, once the first couple of weeks of baby blues subsided.
This time I am terrified. What am I going to do with two needy kids? How am I going to give the amazing child sitting next to me the least amount of proper attention when I have a newborn who needs it all? How am I going to kiss the owie while I nurse? How am I going to give as much as I have been giving?
We're fortunate in that D is an incredibly easy going kid, but he's still a 4-year-old. A 4-year-old who loves his parents almost as fiercely as we love him. How is he going to handle there being another little person who gets our attention? My guess is he'll handle it beautifully and won't be able to get enough of the little person in my belly.
I was thinking last night of how he's going to react when I have to send him home from the hospital but the baby will get to stay. It's not really something I should be thinking of. It doesn't conjure up pretty images in my head - AT ALL. But again, somehow, I think my amazing little 4-year-old will understand perfectly. He seems to always pull through when we need him to.
I'm scared of more than just how I'll properly care for 2 children. I'm scared of what this baby will be like. I have been spoiled beyond reason with a child who hasn't been difficult in any way, shape or form. NOTHING, thus far, has been a struggle with D. What if this little person cries? What if he or she is colicky? What if s/he doesn't latch? What if I can't nurse as long? What if, what if, what if?
There are so many what ifs in the world and I wasn't really scared of any of them when I was pregnant with D. (Except of getting a c-section. That's one of my biggest fears. I know people have them all the time, but I don't want one and will do everything in my power to avoid it.) I don't know why the what ifs are getting to me this time around. I don't why I'm so scared this time around.
I know, however, I will get through it. No matter what the future brings, I know I am strong enough to make it. More than ever before, I know this to be true.
This time I am terrified. What am I going to do with two needy kids? How am I going to give the amazing child sitting next to me the least amount of proper attention when I have a newborn who needs it all? How am I going to kiss the owie while I nurse? How am I going to give as much as I have been giving?
We're fortunate in that D is an incredibly easy going kid, but he's still a 4-year-old. A 4-year-old who loves his parents almost as fiercely as we love him. How is he going to handle there being another little person who gets our attention? My guess is he'll handle it beautifully and won't be able to get enough of the little person in my belly.
I was thinking last night of how he's going to react when I have to send him home from the hospital but the baby will get to stay. It's not really something I should be thinking of. It doesn't conjure up pretty images in my head - AT ALL. But again, somehow, I think my amazing little 4-year-old will understand perfectly. He seems to always pull through when we need him to.
I'm scared of more than just how I'll properly care for 2 children. I'm scared of what this baby will be like. I have been spoiled beyond reason with a child who hasn't been difficult in any way, shape or form. NOTHING, thus far, has been a struggle with D. What if this little person cries? What if he or she is colicky? What if s/he doesn't latch? What if I can't nurse as long? What if, what if, what if?
There are so many what ifs in the world and I wasn't really scared of any of them when I was pregnant with D. (Except of getting a c-section. That's one of my biggest fears. I know people have them all the time, but I don't want one and will do everything in my power to avoid it.) I don't know why the what ifs are getting to me this time around. I don't why I'm so scared this time around.
I know, however, I will get through it. No matter what the future brings, I know I am strong enough to make it. More than ever before, I know this to be true.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
4 years...
Dylan recently turned 4. This is quite a milestone for him and me. I can't believe my baby is 4. I can't believe the little boy who kicked around aimlessly is now a fully functioning, almost, human being. He's my heart on the outside and my soul wrapped up in a little package.
Some quick stats:
He measured in at 44.25 inches and weighs almost 50 pounds. Off the charts for both.
He's doing great, developmentally, with the exception of his lack of interest in writing/drawing. We already knew that and are working hard on it.
Beyond that, he's still the wonderful little boy he's always been. He makes me laugh, makes me cry and makes me feel every emotion in between almost daily.
Some quick stats:
He measured in at 44.25 inches and weighs almost 50 pounds. Off the charts for both.
He's doing great, developmentally, with the exception of his lack of interest in writing/drawing. We already knew that and are working hard on it.
Beyond that, he's still the wonderful little boy he's always been. He makes me laugh, makes me cry and makes me feel every emotion in between almost daily.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
On blogging...Revisited
I have been absent from the blogging sphere for many months and there are a few very specific reasons why:
1. I'm pregnant and felt like crap the first 3-4 months and am now experiencing 1st trimester exhaustion in the 2nd trimester
2. A few events occurred in my life that were making it impossible for me to write about anything but those things and they weren't things I wanted to share with the world or anyone, really (don't ask because I won't tell)
3. Work has been really busy and occupying both nights and days
With that said, I think it's time I return to the blogging world and to my writing ways.
The past few months have been a jumble of craziness, emotional highs and lows and lots of physical changes for me. As I mentioned, I'm preggers which means my body is rapidly changing. Funny thing is, I'm having a much tougher time dealing with it this time than I did with Dylan. I'm showing earlier, which I know is normal, but I'm also having to deal with the transitional phase longer. With D I went from not showing at all to having an adorable little bump in a blink of an eye around 6 months. This time I have been in maternity clothes since about 4 months and it's taking a long time for the bump to look like I've swallowed a basketball rather than like I've been tipping the Budweiser bottle back too often. I'll live.
However, this time around everyone and their uncle feels it's their right to comment on my bump. From, "you're so tiny!" (love this one) to "if I didn't know you were pregnant I'd think you were just getting fat" (no I'm not kidding) to "oh, you're putting it on on the sides, too" to everything in between. Why oh why do people say stupid shit like this? I'll never figure it out. I say the only thing you are allowed to say to a pregnant woman is "you look fantastic!" 'Nough said.
Dylan is growing at an exponential rate, as usual, and is developing his language skills faster than I can really notice. It's such a continuous stream of expansion and learning that it's almost lost on us. It's the people who don't see him as often who notice how clear his speech is getting and how much more he communicates. His current skills include counting to 30 (while skipping 16 EVERY single time, we don't know why), knows all his letters and the sounds they make, is reading simple 3 letter words and can spell and recognize his name.
We are also amazed at the sense of empathy he has developed and his silliness. He's such a goofball with a sense of humor, an already developing sense of sarcasm and a heart of gold. If I'm sad he gives me hugs, if I bump my leg he gives it kisses, if he doesn't like the tone Dave and I are using with one another he tells us to stop. He just wants everyone to be happy and goofy like he is.
The baby is doing really well. We had an ultrasound about 2 weeks ago and everything looked perfect. NO, we did not find out the sex and we're not going to. It's much better for me not to know. This little one is kicking the crap out of me on a daily basis and Dave has been able to feel it on several occasions. Dylan is still a bit unsure about the whole baby deal but finally seems to accept that mommy has a baby in her belly.
That's the update, brain dump, whatever you want to call it.
1. I'm pregnant and felt like crap the first 3-4 months and am now experiencing 1st trimester exhaustion in the 2nd trimester
2. A few events occurred in my life that were making it impossible for me to write about anything but those things and they weren't things I wanted to share with the world or anyone, really (don't ask because I won't tell)
3. Work has been really busy and occupying both nights and days
With that said, I think it's time I return to the blogging world and to my writing ways.
The past few months have been a jumble of craziness, emotional highs and lows and lots of physical changes for me. As I mentioned, I'm preggers which means my body is rapidly changing. Funny thing is, I'm having a much tougher time dealing with it this time than I did with Dylan. I'm showing earlier, which I know is normal, but I'm also having to deal with the transitional phase longer. With D I went from not showing at all to having an adorable little bump in a blink of an eye around 6 months. This time I have been in maternity clothes since about 4 months and it's taking a long time for the bump to look like I've swallowed a basketball rather than like I've been tipping the Budweiser bottle back too often. I'll live.
However, this time around everyone and their uncle feels it's their right to comment on my bump. From, "you're so tiny!" (love this one) to "if I didn't know you were pregnant I'd think you were just getting fat" (no I'm not kidding) to "oh, you're putting it on on the sides, too" to everything in between. Why oh why do people say stupid shit like this? I'll never figure it out. I say the only thing you are allowed to say to a pregnant woman is "you look fantastic!" 'Nough said.
Dylan is growing at an exponential rate, as usual, and is developing his language skills faster than I can really notice. It's such a continuous stream of expansion and learning that it's almost lost on us. It's the people who don't see him as often who notice how clear his speech is getting and how much more he communicates. His current skills include counting to 30 (while skipping 16 EVERY single time, we don't know why), knows all his letters and the sounds they make, is reading simple 3 letter words and can spell and recognize his name.
We are also amazed at the sense of empathy he has developed and his silliness. He's such a goofball with a sense of humor, an already developing sense of sarcasm and a heart of gold. If I'm sad he gives me hugs, if I bump my leg he gives it kisses, if he doesn't like the tone Dave and I are using with one another he tells us to stop. He just wants everyone to be happy and goofy like he is.
The baby is doing really well. We had an ultrasound about 2 weeks ago and everything looked perfect. NO, we did not find out the sex and we're not going to. It's much better for me not to know. This little one is kicking the crap out of me on a daily basis and Dave has been able to feel it on several occasions. Dylan is still a bit unsure about the whole baby deal but finally seems to accept that mommy has a baby in her belly.
That's the update, brain dump, whatever you want to call it.
Friday, September 22, 2006
I got it!
Monday was the happiest day I've had in a while. Like I have many times in the last several months, I peed on a stick when I woke up. Only this time, rather than the damn line not showing up it showed it's happy little face. But it was barely visible. So I proceeded to pee on a stick Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and now I am certain the line is there to stay.
I'm happy to announce that I am pregnant. After 5 months of trying, we finally got there. Of course I'm only about 5 weeks along and there is a long way to go until we are considered to be "in the clear," but I have no reason to think everything won't go as smoothly as it did with D.
Symptoms are already kicking my ass but I can deal. I'm nauseous, A LOT, and I'm so tired I can't see straight. As we all say, though, it's all worth it in the end.
I'm happy to announce that I am pregnant. After 5 months of trying, we finally got there. Of course I'm only about 5 weeks along and there is a long way to go until we are considered to be "in the clear," but I have no reason to think everything won't go as smoothly as it did with D.
Symptoms are already kicking my ass but I can deal. I'm nauseous, A LOT, and I'm so tired I can't see straight. As we all say, though, it's all worth it in the end.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
I want it
Ever want something so badly that just thinking about it brings you to tears? Fun, isn't it?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
On blogging...
After reading my last post, one of my dear friends complimented my writing. It has been so long since I have shared my writing that the thought of someone actually enjoying it caught me off guard.
This blog started out as a place to let family/friends we don't speak to on a daily basis know what's going on with the boy. It has moved beyond that. The intended audience doesn't read the blog (grandparents, D's only uncle) but a few of my friends do. The blog is no longer a place for me to write about the boy's latest accomplishment, but an outlet for me to get the words flowing again.
Writing is really my first love. It was my favorite thing to do for school, my favorite thing to do in my spare time, my favorite thing. Since I'm done with school and have little to no spare time, the numbers of words I have put on paper in recent history are limited. (Emails to clients and friends do not count.) Another problem, I'm not a journaler. I love the idea of a journal, and this seems to be becoming one, but haven't actually kept one since I called it a diary. The biggest thing that prohibits me from having a journal these days is, thanks to 4 years of journalism school and the last 7 years spent sitting at my desk on my computer all day, the words no longer seem to flow when I put pen to paper. These days, I have to put fingertips to keys.
The words are starting to flow again, through my fingertips and the keys, and the thoughts in my head are automatically forming themselves into sentences, paragraphs, entries. I am reading blogs (it's so addictive when there are some supremely talented writers out there) which inspire me to write more and rediscovering my first love. I feel compelled to write about everything these days. From work (yes, I know better than to write about work on my blog) to the little boy to the big boy to still not being pregnant to frustrations with friends to anything and everything that pops into my little head.
So, once again, it seems because of the boy, I have found an old joy which was lost for a long time. Thank you D.
This blog started out as a place to let family/friends we don't speak to on a daily basis know what's going on with the boy. It has moved beyond that. The intended audience doesn't read the blog (grandparents, D's only uncle) but a few of my friends do. The blog is no longer a place for me to write about the boy's latest accomplishment, but an outlet for me to get the words flowing again.
Writing is really my first love. It was my favorite thing to do for school, my favorite thing to do in my spare time, my favorite thing. Since I'm done with school and have little to no spare time, the numbers of words I have put on paper in recent history are limited. (Emails to clients and friends do not count.) Another problem, I'm not a journaler. I love the idea of a journal, and this seems to be becoming one, but haven't actually kept one since I called it a diary. The biggest thing that prohibits me from having a journal these days is, thanks to 4 years of journalism school and the last 7 years spent sitting at my desk on my computer all day, the words no longer seem to flow when I put pen to paper. These days, I have to put fingertips to keys.
The words are starting to flow again, through my fingertips and the keys, and the thoughts in my head are automatically forming themselves into sentences, paragraphs, entries. I am reading blogs (it's so addictive when there are some supremely talented writers out there) which inspire me to write more and rediscovering my first love. I feel compelled to write about everything these days. From work (yes, I know better than to write about work on my blog) to the little boy to the big boy to still not being pregnant to frustrations with friends to anything and everything that pops into my little head.
So, once again, it seems because of the boy, I have found an old joy which was lost for a long time. Thank you D.
Monday, September 11, 2006
9.11
I will always remember where I was on 9.11.01. I think we all will.
Dave and I were on the 3rd day of our honeymoon. Our oasis after the chaos of our wedding. It was our time to enjoy each other and not have to think about anything.
We woke up on Tuesday morning and went downstairs to breakfast in our hotel. As we walked by the lobby, we noticed there were quite a few people gathered in the lobby watching TV. Seemed a little odd so we poked our heads around the corner to see what was on. The TV was tuned to CNN and we saw an image of the WTC with smoke coming out of it. I remember thinking, "Oh, wow, the WTC is on fire. That's sad." I had no idea. We went on to eat breakfast. After breakfast we popped over to nurse's office on the resort to get me some medicine. While in there, she also had a TV on and asked if we were Americans. We replied yes and she said, "They just announced it's terrorists." We thought we must have misunderstood the nice lady with the very thick Jamaican accent. As we walked back to our room, we decided to stop in the lobby and figure out what was really going on. As soon as we sat down, we figured it out. They named off the cities the planes were going to/from. Boston - Wendy had flown in for the wedding from Boston, LA - cousins had flown in from LA, PA - cousins had flown in from Pittsburgh, NY - about 15-20 had flown in from NY/NJ, DC - my oldest childhood friend was in grad school at GW, one of our ushers worked for the Department of Defense, and Manhattan itself - one of my closest friend's brother and sister-in-law lived and worked in Manhattan.
I remember the first thing I said when I realized what was happening. "What day is it?" Dave looked at me and said, "It's Tuesday." I was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief that comes when you realize one of your biggest fears was not just realized. He asked me why and I told him, "The last people who came in for the wedding were flying on Monday." We spent the next several hours sitting in the lobby of our hotel, crying, watching, learning, talking, listening. We spoke to the people around us. Some from NYC many from other areas. I remember speaking to one woman who had left her 7-month-old son with her mother so she and her husband could have a little getaway. How fiercely this woman wanted to hold her child at that moment. I thought I understood then, I REALLY understand now.
I wanted to call home as soon as I heard but we waited. We wanted to at least leave phone lines open for those people who needed to check on loved ones who were in NYC. When I called home that night, I was once again relieved to find out that we didn't personally know anyone who had died.
In the coming days we talked about how we would be stuck. We talked about how worried we were about anyone and everyone who may have come in contact with this tragedy. We talked about how we had to put things aside, at least for a few days, and try to enjoy the trip we took to celebrate our marriage. We were also able to get online at the hotel which felt like a lifeline to home. I sent some emails - to my boss letting her know I might not be back when I had planned. I got on AIM and was able to find out my friend's brother and sister-in-law were ok. I was able to connect with a few other people from home and know that everyone was ok - as much as they could be.
We were lucky, we got home on time and without incident. There were others who were stuck for an extra 2 weeks. And while being stuck in Jamaica may sound wonderful, you're still stuck. And being so out of control is completely frightening and enraging.
In the 5 years since 9.11 many things have happened in my life. Dylan was born. My grandfather died. I've switched jobs, twice. Dave and I spent the last weekend away to celebrate our 5th anniversary. It was wonderful. A chance to reconnect we really needed. But, as with every year, when I think about our anniversary, I think of the anniversary of 9.11 and how the two will forever be connected.
Dave and I were on the 3rd day of our honeymoon. Our oasis after the chaos of our wedding. It was our time to enjoy each other and not have to think about anything.
We woke up on Tuesday morning and went downstairs to breakfast in our hotel. As we walked by the lobby, we noticed there were quite a few people gathered in the lobby watching TV. Seemed a little odd so we poked our heads around the corner to see what was on. The TV was tuned to CNN and we saw an image of the WTC with smoke coming out of it. I remember thinking, "Oh, wow, the WTC is on fire. That's sad." I had no idea. We went on to eat breakfast. After breakfast we popped over to nurse's office on the resort to get me some medicine. While in there, she also had a TV on and asked if we were Americans. We replied yes and she said, "They just announced it's terrorists." We thought we must have misunderstood the nice lady with the very thick Jamaican accent. As we walked back to our room, we decided to stop in the lobby and figure out what was really going on. As soon as we sat down, we figured it out. They named off the cities the planes were going to/from. Boston - Wendy had flown in for the wedding from Boston, LA - cousins had flown in from LA, PA - cousins had flown in from Pittsburgh, NY - about 15-20 had flown in from NY/NJ, DC - my oldest childhood friend was in grad school at GW, one of our ushers worked for the Department of Defense, and Manhattan itself - one of my closest friend's brother and sister-in-law lived and worked in Manhattan.
I remember the first thing I said when I realized what was happening. "What day is it?" Dave looked at me and said, "It's Tuesday." I was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief that comes when you realize one of your biggest fears was not just realized. He asked me why and I told him, "The last people who came in for the wedding were flying on Monday." We spent the next several hours sitting in the lobby of our hotel, crying, watching, learning, talking, listening. We spoke to the people around us. Some from NYC many from other areas. I remember speaking to one woman who had left her 7-month-old son with her mother so she and her husband could have a little getaway. How fiercely this woman wanted to hold her child at that moment. I thought I understood then, I REALLY understand now.
I wanted to call home as soon as I heard but we waited. We wanted to at least leave phone lines open for those people who needed to check on loved ones who were in NYC. When I called home that night, I was once again relieved to find out that we didn't personally know anyone who had died.
In the coming days we talked about how we would be stuck. We talked about how worried we were about anyone and everyone who may have come in contact with this tragedy. We talked about how we had to put things aside, at least for a few days, and try to enjoy the trip we took to celebrate our marriage. We were also able to get online at the hotel which felt like a lifeline to home. I sent some emails - to my boss letting her know I might not be back when I had planned. I got on AIM and was able to find out my friend's brother and sister-in-law were ok. I was able to connect with a few other people from home and know that everyone was ok - as much as they could be.
We were lucky, we got home on time and without incident. There were others who were stuck for an extra 2 weeks. And while being stuck in Jamaica may sound wonderful, you're still stuck. And being so out of control is completely frightening and enraging.
In the 5 years since 9.11 many things have happened in my life. Dylan was born. My grandfather died. I've switched jobs, twice. Dave and I spent the last weekend away to celebrate our 5th anniversary. It was wonderful. A chance to reconnect we really needed. But, as with every year, when I think about our anniversary, I think of the anniversary of 9.11 and how the two will forever be connected.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Plagued
I'm sick. Not just a sniffle, not just a little cough but full blown someone kill me now sick.
# of days feeling like hell: 4
# of hours spent in the office: almost 4
number of hours spent working on the couch when I should be resting: about 30
# of times my amazing husband has done something to keep this little family afloat while the mommy is out of commission: 87298732948273498273
I seriously don't know what I would do without this wonderful man by my side. Without a peep he has gotten the D meister up, dressed and to daycare everyday. Without a peep he has kept the child entertained without video intervention at night, bathed him, dressed him and made sure he stays in bed after the 15th time the boy asks to get up to go poopy.
He has also made me soup and tried to get me to eat other things even though I don't want much of anything. Flus are really the best diet, aren't they?
Thank you, my love, for keeping our little house running. I promise you, there will be a day of sleeping in, indulgent cooking by the wife and some R&R with a horrid sci-fi flick of your choice. That day will come soon.
# of days feeling like hell: 4
# of hours spent in the office: almost 4
number of hours spent working on the couch when I should be resting: about 30
# of times my amazing husband has done something to keep this little family afloat while the mommy is out of commission: 87298732948273498273
I seriously don't know what I would do without this wonderful man by my side. Without a peep he has gotten the D meister up, dressed and to daycare everyday. Without a peep he has kept the child entertained without video intervention at night, bathed him, dressed him and made sure he stays in bed after the 15th time the boy asks to get up to go poopy.
He has also made me soup and tried to get me to eat other things even though I don't want much of anything. Flus are really the best diet, aren't they?
Thank you, my love, for keeping our little house running. I promise you, there will be a day of sleeping in, indulgent cooking by the wife and some R&R with a horrid sci-fi flick of your choice. That day will come soon.
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