Is nothing sacred anymore? Apparently not. I've decided to use my blog (partially, not completely) for a purpose I never intended: cataloging my pregnancy. Why didn't I intend to use my blog for this purpose? Well, first of all, I didn't intend to get pregnant! But also, I think pregnancy is a highly personal and private process; I wasn't sure I wanted to share the intimate details with all of you. Then again, so many of you have become friends to me, that I don't want to hold back... so I won't.
Due Date: May 4, 2011
Gestation: 9 weeks
Weight: 147 lbs (+7 from conception)
Fetal Heartbeat: 172 bpm (has me thinking girl again...)
Health Concerns: Severe morning sickness (prescribed Zofran and Promethazine), headaches (could be dehydration), and future worries about post-partum depression (will consult with doctor)
Other Concerns: Finding enough storage for all the toys we *already* have in our house, not to mention all the baby stuff-- swings, pack-n-play, exersaucer-- that's packed up in our attic
Next Appointment: October 25th
So as one of my friends from high school pointed out (a friend who is also a reader of this blog), I gave ya'll quite a shock and quite a cliffhanger in my last post. I hadn't planned on posting again so soon-- I'm exhausted and nauseous beyond belief-- but I did want to continue the story...
My faithful readers will remember this post, where DH & I announced our intentions to have G and only G. That was the plan. To be perfectly honest, I'm still having a tough time coming to terms with the fact that it is no longer the plan. But that's another issue for another post.
Right now, we don't have an exact due date for this baby. Unlike with G, we weren't trying; I wasn't charting, so I don't know what my basal body temperature was, what my cervical mucus was like (I know, this is TMI), or whether my breasts were tender (let's be honest-- after nursing a child for 14 months, does anyone feel anything in that region?). We were supposed to be relying on natural family planning, but G broke my thermometer about a week into my cycle, so I figured, "I know my body well enough, I'll know when I've ovulated."
DH & I were playing it safe, waiting until that magical "ovulation moment" before-- ahem-- "coupling." We didn't want to chance anything. Then one night, inspired by a late-night thunderstorm... well, I'm not going to go into specifics, you get the picture. But I do remember lying there afterwards, thinking, "Uh-oh."
It had taken us 7 months and one miscarriage to get pregnant with G. We had charted, used herbal supplements, and placed my hips on a pillow for months. I had never ovulated earlier than 20 days into my cycle. I thought, surely, there was no way one random night two weeks into my cycle would result in a baby.
Needless to say, I thought wrong.
It was a very stressful two weeks as I waited to test. There were times when I thought for sure I was pregnant, even though I hadn't felt a single symptom. There were other times when I convinced myself I was just paranoid. I remembered back to when we were trying to conceive G; I remembered hearing about women who "accidentally" got pregnant, and responding with bitter, venomous, jealous words at their "luck." There was no way I could be one of those women.
So, we went on with our lives for two weeks. I wasn't worried when my period didn't show up on time. I've had wacked out cycles for years, and even though they've regulated a little bit since having G, I still haven't had two cycles of the same length back to back. By the time I was three days late, I caved and tested. It was negative. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, I just had to wait for Aunt Flo to arrive.
But she didn't. So a few days later, I tested again. There was no doubt about it-- there was a second, dark, red line on the test. I was pregnant.
I didn't do anything cute like put a "Big Sister" shirt on G to show DH when he got home. I simply called him up and said, "I'm pregnant." He didn't know how to respond. He was in shock as much as I was. I think he still is. Even though we've been to the doctor for some initial blood work (the appointment I referred to in yesterday's post), he still can't quite believe it.
I go to the doctor's again for an early ultrasound on the 27th, when I figure I'll be somewhere between eight and nine weeks along. Maybe once we see that little baby's heart beating, it will seem more real. Right now, it just feels like a dream... or somebody else's life...
Today is G's second birthday. It's a post that should be wholly devoted to her, my amazing little girl, and how she's grown by leaps and bounds over the past year. Far more quickly than I would have permitted, had I been given the choice.
But instead, today's post isn't about her. It's about me-- well, us, really. Our family. And how we've grown.
I asked G a few weeks ago what she wanted for her second birthday. Here's a sampling of what made her very toddler-centric list:
-cake
-cake
-Dora
-cake
Not included on that list? Spending the morning of her second birthday in the doctor's office with mom and dad. No, don't worry, she's fine. Remember-- this post is about us not her?
Because we weren't in a pediatricians office...
We were in the OB's office...
Because we're pregnant, very unexpectedly, shockingly, surprisingly pregnant...
To Be Continued...
I'm not going to lie... my feelings are a little bit hurt.
After I wrote this post, I saw the number of subscribers to my blog plummet. I was a little shell-shocked. Did some of you think I was selling out? Abandoning the hard working women who manage to do it all, both at home and on the job?
I wasn't sure, so I asked my mom (the one woman who knows EVERYTHING about my blog, yet has NEVER logged on to read it... despite CAK's offer over the weekend to send her the URL). She suggested that maybe some people were a little jealous.
Of more playdates that adult interaction?
Of my choice to give up material goods (oooooh, I will miss you, Rock 'N Republic Jeans)?
Of exchanging a micro-managing boss for an even bossier child?
But the fact that some readers would stop following me (yes, I admit, it's pure vanity that this bothers me so, but I never said I wasn't a teeny bit--ok, maybe more than a teeny bit--narcissistic... I blame Facebook) did make me stop and think. If a woman's decision to change her career path could influence something as unimportant as a blog, what does that say about how we--as women--relate to each other? Are the working moms still "at war" with those who stay at home?
Among my best friends, the answer seems to be yes. For the past two years, I have skirted two very different circles. One is comprised of all working moms. These are women I have gravitated to because we share similar values, similar goals, and similar struggles. I know these are the women who will commiserate with me over 50 hour work weeks and working for a tough boss. These are the women who find it just as much fun to go shopping for a work suit as outfits for my toddler. I know where I stand with these ladies; has my decision to leave their ranks put that friendship in jeopardy?Then there's my other group of friends. They are all stay at home moms. The majority of this group is comprised of women who spent a decade or more in the workforce, plugging away at their jobs, climbing the corporate ladder until their biological clocks began ticking so loudly, they could no longer be ignored. They understand what it's like to be a working woman, but because they quit their jobs before giving birth, they don't know what it's like to tackle two massive roles-- mother and employee-- at once. While they might not understand why I've been toiling in the working world for the past two years, they do understand where I'm going.
Since making the announcement that I'll be joining the SAHM crowd, I've worried that first group pull away--if only slightly. I've already seen the second group embrace me with arms open wider than ever before. Is one group my past? The other my future? Do I have to choose?
To those questions, my answer is a resounding "No!" While some working moms may feel that stay at home moms are their rivals, I did not feel that way, and I don't expect current working moms to feel that way about me now. We all have a choice to make about our paths; I chose sippy cups and potty training and being a full-time mom and homemaker over the television news industry. It was an industry I never really loved, and an industry that I won't miss once I'm gone. My decision comes at the expense (literally) of some degree of financial security; we will be living on a far tighter budget than ever before, and will have to make sacrifices to make our new situation work. But that was our choice. Likewise, working moms choose the excitement of their careers, the adult interaction of their coworkers, and the financial security that comes with their income.
Late edit: I wanted to point out, after reading a comment from my friend Melody, that many moms choose to work because it helps them balance their kid/non-kid lives. I couldn't agree more. I encourage you to read her comments below, because they add a perspective to this argument that I couldn't express any better!
Right now, we have two different sets of priorities. But does the fact that my new priorities as a stay at home mom differ from my friends, who are choosing to stay in the workface, mean that one of us is wrong? Again, a resounding "No!"
This isn't a question of right or wrong.
This is a question of what we--as women--define as "having it all." For me, those priorities have shifted over the past six months. It doesn't mean they won't shift back a few years from now. Who knows-- I might end up in a completely different field when G goes to kindergarten. But for now, I feel comfortable working at home (because, yes, I know as well as anyone that stay at home moms work just as hard as the women who are employed outside the home).
Yes, I ripped the title of today's post right off of Christina Aguilera. What can I say? I think that song has an amazing message. Of course it does-- they used it on an episode of "Glee" last season (bonus! I inserted that clip in this post, see below!).
Sometimes, though, I forget that I am beautiful. Lately, I've been L-A-Z-Y about going to the gym and doing any type of physical activity. I've been tired, grumpy and have made excuse after excuse to get out of my regular workouts. When I do this, I tend to feel less than beautiful on the outside. But that's not the only place I can feel a little "ugly" now and then. When I'm PMSing (ladies, I know you understand what I mean here), I can be downright nasty to poor DH (men, I apologize on behalf of all of us ladies; we are not in control of our bodies at that time of the month). When my behavior gets that bad, I don't feel very beautiful on the inside either.
When I'm not feeling beautiful-- inside or out-- I tend to get down on myself even more. I give myself sidelong glances in the mirror, wondering where that pudge came from. I open the kitchen cabinets looking for a treat, only to berate myself for overindulging. I turn my alarm off and skip the gym, then get frustrated with my lack of activity later in the day. It's a downward spiral.
That's how I've been feeling the past few days. I didn't know how to get myself out of that funk (Oooooh! That reminds me-- there was also an episode of "Glee" last season titled "Funk"-- one of my favorites... OK, ok, no more "Glee," at least until the season premier later this month!).
And then, I sat down to breakfast this morning...
And then, out of nowhere my beautiful daughter said three words I'd never heard her say before-- not about me, not about anyone. In fact, I'm not sure where she came up with them. She said:
The fog I'd been living in melted. The malaise left. A rainbow began shining through the clouds of my emotions. My daughter thinks I'm pretty. She sees the beauty in me, on the inside and on the outside. ME, pretty. Her words totally rocked my world.
So, just in case somebody hasn't said it to you lately, I think you're beautiful. If you're reading my blog, you're probably a woman, and most likely a mother. That ALONE makes you beautiful, not just to me, but to your family as well.
It looks like a nice neighborhood: kids playing in the grass, a young couple taking their newborn for a stroll, an elderly woman rocking on her back porch with a cup of tea.
But my neighborhood hides a dirty little secret-- it's on the wrong side of town.
I don't mean to do my neighborhood a disservice. After all, this is where DH & I chose to purchase our first home. It's where we brought our daughter home from the hospital. It's where we've sunk thousands (ok, tens of thousands) into upgrading our house.
And when I say it's on the wrong side of town, I don't mean to suggest that it's on the bad side of town (although, I will be the first to admit that it is perilously close to the ghetto; we're exactly 2.1 miles from a rough part of town... I know this because I've measured it on my car's odometer at least 50 times, as if the distance could change day to day).
I actually picked our current home from a website. I'd just been offered a job in a new state, and DH & I didn't have time to launch an extensive house-hunt. So, we did it remotely. We found a great realtor in our new town who gave us access to a really cool website, and I "house-shopped" online when I probably should have been working. Using this website, DH & I narrowed our search down to 10 houses, then drove 5 hours from our current town to our new city to make a final choice.
It was love at first sight. You know how some women cry when they try on their wedding dress for the first time? I cried when we pulled into the driveway for the first time. I just knew this was the house for us, and amazingly, DH agreed (OK, actually he didn't agree; he wanted a house on the other side of town... the right side of town... but it had a foundation problem, so it was out of the question).
But over the past couple of years, our lives have changed dramatically. While we both work at the same places (well, I do at least for now), our friends have really shifted since we welcomed G into our family. Most of our friends now live on the other side of town, meaning it's not out of the ordinary for me to drive 30 minutes each way to a play date. My two bestest friends live in an entirely different county. Planning a get together requires a lot of preparation and a whole lot of patience.
Sometimes, I wish I'd let DH have the house with the foundation problems on the "right" side of town. But what if I had?
Without that neighbor, I wouldn't have felt such a strong pull to listen to my biological clock...
Without that biological clock, I wouldn't have had my daughter when I did...
Without G, I wouldn't have felt the desire to leave my job...
Without the desire to leave my job, I wouldn't have the time to go on all these play dates in the first place...
Without all these play dates, I wouldn't realize how much I value my friends and yearn to live closer to them!
I know someday, I'll get my wish. Probably not any time soon... I don't think it would be a good idea to buy a house (A) in this economy or (B) at the same time that I'm leaving my job. But I'm already dreaming of the day that a trip to see my best friends will entail a walk down the street instead of a drive across town.
