Posts Tagged ‘
belly shot ’
Wednesday, November 23rd, 2011
Yes, I am a day late with this. But let’s focus on what’s important here, people. I am also three-quarters of the way there. Thirty weeks down; ten to go. Seventy-five percent D-O-N-E being pregnant, probably forever. I happy about this. But also a wee bit sad.
Surprised? I am, considering that technically, I am not a fan of pregnancy. I realized that my attitude had somewhat shifted last Saturday, when Clint and I
insanely went to an early bird shopping event at a cool local kids’ store. As we were tag-teaming the list, a sweet woman congratulated me, cooing, “Aw. You two look so cute. You’re all pregnant.”
I thanked her and instinctively mumbled something about it seeming much more adorable when it’s not you. But something about my old familiar take on my pregnancy didn’t sit right. I thought about how when I’m not pregnant, I do get a little flash of empathetic excitement for the mama-to-be. And about how I’m right now experiencing that excitement firsthand. And how the third trimester continues to feel pretty good, outside of some crazy foot pain, which I’m guessing will disappear when I’m not standing doing Thanksgiving prep into the evening. For the first time in either of my pregnancies, I think I’ve officially transitioned from trying to appreciate being pregnant to truly enjoying it. I’m thankful to be here.
The massages don’t hurt my state in the least. I love massages, but rarely treat myself. Too many other things to spend money on. Diapers and food, for example. But that second-trimester back pain made it 100 percent necessary, so, yay! Guilt-free massages for me. Yesterday’s was incredible. When my massage therapist finished, she told me to relax and take my time getting up, then crack the door open when I was ready. Instead, I relaxed and fell asleep. I’m not sure how long I was out, or how she woke me up, but damn. That is a sign of a good massage.
Since I’m on the sappy preggo-lady train, I’ll keep the momentum going: Loving the fact that I can not only feel the cabbage-sized baby punching around, but I can now see her, too. Little jabs that actually make my stomach visibly twitch and undulate. Crazy. Last pregnancy, this probably just freaked me out. This time around, I’m better able to picture the reality of what’s going on. That those twitches are my daughter, dealing with a post-dinner energy spike by somersaulting and shadow boxing. It’s her first communication with me. So pure. Doesn’t yet involve crying or poop or needing my boob in her mouth, just some little nudges that let me know she’s doing alright in there. It’s nice.
And Roy is recovering from his battle with Scarlet Fever well. Man, that’s a nasty one. It’s been more than two weeks since it hit, and the skin on his feet is still peeling and sore, and he still has red marks where the worst of his wounds were. But overall: Better. Cuddlebug.
Little guy is so psyched for all the folks coming here for Thanksgiving—his grandmas and papas and cousins and aunties and uncles. Clint’s parents are even making the trip from up Iowa this year, for the first time. We list everyone off a few times a day, and he just glows about it. Can’t believe all those awesome people will be here, in our house, tomorrow. I’m thrilled, too.
Speaking of, I must go make my brine and pick up the turkeys and do a million other Thanksgivingy things. Happy Turkey Day to you! I hope you have too much to be thankful for.
Cabbage photo credit: iStockphoto
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Tuesday, November 15th, 2011
I feel like it’s been forever since I posted. Time drags on ever so slowly when you have a sick kid in the house. Remember last Tuesday when I mentioned Roy was sent home from daycare with a fever over 104? It broke that night, so I figured we were in the clear. He developed a slight rash, as he tends to do with fevers, so I gave him some Benadryl, which usually does the trick. This time, it didn’t.
The rash got worse; developed into open sores and feet so tender he couldn’t stand on them. It was a different sort of rash than the one that sent us to the emergency room back in June. Finally, we took him to the doctor. Diagnosis: Scarlet Fever. Did you know people even got Scarlet Fever anymore? I didn’t. But they do. Well, Roy, The Boy Who Gets All Skin-Related Maladies, does.
So it was a rough week comforting and distracting an understandably inconsolable boy; constantly cleaning and dressing his wounds. I wished so badly I could weather all the pain and problems for him. He is finally on the mend. Not 100 percent, but headed in that direction. Next week will be better.
On the very worst night of his sickness, Roy barely slept. Since Clint had to work the following day, I was on duty. I tried everything—sleeping in his room, bringing him in ours, cuddling on the couch, letting him cry, even a Sesame Street special on Netflix. It wasn’t until he was exhausted beyond belief that he finally dozed off for a few hours. It took me even longer because the sleep deprivation and worry combined to get me thinking crazy, that I’d given him too much medicine or overlooked a telling symptom or screwed up in some way. Eventually, I, too gave in to the night’s catnap.
So the next day was even harder, of course. Sleeplessness makes even the tiniest decision seem impossible, the simplest of tasks seem Herculean. It it took me back a year and half to when Roy was a newborn, when I remember thinking How long can this possibly continue? How long can a human being even function without sleep? It also delivered me a few months into the future. It was a taste of what’s to come.
Had Roy had this illness during the height of my morning sickness or when my back was feeling worse, it would’ve broken me. But it didn’t happen then. And I can only hope the universe is as merciful when there are two.
Baby’s butternut squash-sized and in the middle of a growth spurt. The way my big belly makes my scarf jut awkwardly out in front of me in that photo up top cracks me up. I’ll give you a more positive post later this week, OK? After all, Thanksgiving is on its way. We’re hosting 20-some here, and I’m really looking forward it. We have so much to be thankful for.
Butternut squash image credit: Kristada Panichgul
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Tuesday, November 8th, 2011
First of all, 28 weeks isn’t as bad as I make it look here. I was just impatient because it was a little cold out. Plus we still haven’t gotten a decent camera, so we’re using the one on my nearly two-year-old phone, which is something like 72 in phone-camera years. It’s curmudgeonly. You press the button, and it captures the scene in front of it as soon as it’s good and ready to capture the scene in front of it, missy. Maybe that instant. Maybe 10 seconds later. Depending on whether or not its sciatica is acting up or something.
Actually, I am feeling better than any other time in this pregnancy. The massage last week really did the trick, so I’m getting another one this week, followed closely by a chiropractic appointment, which I’m imagining will act as the one-two punch that zaps my rib and lower back pain once and for all. That’s the plan anyway.
Plus, I think the energy boost that typically arrives during the second trimester was just running a little late. I flit about last week in a way that I’ve been unable to do for, oh, six months or so, the highlight of which had to be a four-hour dinner with visiting friends at a delicious restaurant. I love such leisurely dinners. It made me feel connected and fun again. Not that it magically erased the previous 150 evenings wherein I was fast asleep and drooling on the couch pillows midway into any given evening’s “Law & Order” theme song, but it reminded me that there is hope. There will one day be life after 8 PM.
So take the fact that I’m feeling spry, add my inordinate amount of story deadlines and the fact that we’re knee-deep into the foyer renovation project, barely poised to finish it in time to host 20-plus people for Thanksgiving, and what do you think happens? Today, I get The Call from daycare. Roy’s got a fever of over 104. So of course I dropped everything and picked him up, then spent the bulk of the afternoon cuddling on the couch reading books and playing trucks. Which really isn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon, especially since he was in a surprisingly good mood. My favorite part was when Clint called on his way home, and the sun was setting, and Roy said, “Pink sky, Daddy,” and held the phone up to the window so Clint could take it in, too. That little guy loves his moon phases and sunsets. And, of course, his daddy.
His sister is now the size of a head of iceberg lettuce, according to Parents.com’s week-by-week babytracker. I can’t wait to welcome her to the chaos and to see what it is she has to bring to the table. Roy’s so relatively calm and thoughtful, I have a feeling we have a spunky one getting ready to make her debut.
lettuce photo credit: iStockphoto
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Tuesday, October 11th, 2011
What what, people! Here you have it: 24 weeks. In my opinion, it looks very much like 23 weeks. Same trimester. Same pains. Same slowly expanding tummy functioning like a food magnet. The other day, Roy discovered a clinging piece of edible something-or-other before I did and was able to get it in his mouth before I could stop him. Which could be a good thing? Now I always have snacks on hand? Yeah, I’m reaching. It’s called Staying Positive.
That’s how growth happens, though. You don’t notice it daily, or even weekly, then all of a sudden you’re about to give birth. Or, perhaps, parenting a toddler. We have a calendar hanging in our kitchen, and each month features a photo of Roy exactly one year ago. You guys, he was such a baby. As in truly: A baby. A brand spankin’ newborn, changing ever so slightly each month into the toddler with a few teeth proudly holding a sippy cup last October, to the almost one-year-old in December, sitting up in his snowsuit, the chunky baby cheeks slimming enough and the eyes sharpening enough to offer a preview of the big boy face we now have before us. It’s dizzying, really. Looking back, that first year whizzes by in a flash.
I suppose the pregnancy is that way too—feels endless when you’re in it, yet the moment I first spied that faint blue plus sign on the pregnancy test seems like a lifetime ago. And now little girl is already the size of an ear of corn (according to Parents.com’s week-by-week babytracker). In three and a half months she’ll be here. And then we dive into that beautiful, whirlwind of a year, holding on for dear life, documenting like crazy and trying to remember that although change happens slowly, it happens. Every single day.
Speaking of documenting, please excuse the poor quality preggo photo. My camera broke, dangit, and the one I borrowed clearly can’t produce the, uh, super high quality you’ve come to expect from this site? But. But! We’ve had a new camera on the old wish list for awhile. Before Roy was born, actually. So I guess this is the universe’s way of saying make that happen. See how I did that? Again: Staying Positive.
Corn photo credit: iStockphoto
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Tuesday, October 4th, 2011
Check it out: 23 weeks! Apparently this is the point in my pregnancy where I begin discovering random stains and globs of food on my stomach. I’m not sure whether it’s because that stomach now sticks out far enough to collect stray material or because normally, my stains are lying flat against by body, where I notice them less. Regardless, it makes me want to wear lipstick. Because who notices an Africa-shaped salad dressing stain on a woman’s giant belly when her mouth is done up in a perky shade of red? Everyone, probably. But I am not above trying my hand at distraction tactics.
Because this is a place designated to relating how my pregnancy feels, at the risk of sounding like a big ol’ complainer I will tell you it feels painful. In my ribs and my lower back specifically. Which, honestly, kind of pisses me off, as it seems way too early in my pregnancy to start feeling this way. Especially since I just recently got over
morning all day sickness. My attempts at pain relief so far include walking, yoga and miscellaneous stretching, icing and sleeping with a pillow between my legs. If nothing changes, soon I will move on to massage and possibly a chiropractor specializing in the Webster Technique. Suggestions welcome.
Little Girl is now the size of an eggplant, according to Parents.com’s week-by-week babytracker. Grow, girlie, grow! Her brother-to-be has been an absolute joy lately, which sometimes makes me wonder if I’m insane. What to do when your toddler finally naps reliably, sleeps through the night, manages stairs on his own, uses the word “please” to communicate his wants and plays on his own for long stretches of time? Start over from square one with another kid, of course! Big. Fat. Sigh.
But these same things also make me think that the timing is perfect. Roy’s growing independence frees my time enough to pay attention to another and my hands enough to hold another. Plus, he’ll be a fabulous helper. The boy just loves to help. To “help,” too, but the need to use quote marks fades each day.
Regardless of how I feel, mentally or physically, she’s another week closer to being here. So I’m all about savoring my time with my little toddler, while he’s still my only one. What a bonus that he’s in the midst of a dreamboat phase. He’s so sweet at the moment, there are times when I can actually relax off the parent bit—the redirecting and preparing and monitoring—and just hang out and enjoy his company. Yep, the pain is definitely worth it.
Eggplant image credit: Mike Dieter
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