So I did not really name my beautiful baby boy...Larry. However, in keeping with the blog theme, my child's alias will continue to be Larry. This is a nod to Jack, who was pretty much humoring me in February when I thought I was pregnant by patting my belly and calling it things like 'pizza baby' or 'cookie baby' or 'Larry'. I thought of all these options, Larry was the best alias, although I did think for a minute or two how hilarious it would be to call him Cookie Baby forever in my blog. Saner thoughts prevailed however...thus Larry.
And Larry...is here.
He came almost a week early, which his mother is grateful for, and took almost thirteen hours from hospital check-in to birth. He is apparently extremely curious, as he spent his first two hours with eyes wide open, checking everybody out. He came out screaming, probably mad at Mama for all the curse words I had been using in the previous two hours. (Sorry, baby...it couldn't be helped.) At six pounds eleven ounces, he is like a mini version of his big brother and his daddy - and it is ridiculous how much I love seeing Jack's face in this teeny, tiny son we made. He is literally the most perfect thing I have ever done in my life, and I could not be any prouder of him. I am going to spend every moment of my maternity leave staring at him and updating you all on every new facial expression - because naturally, the world must stop because my baby smiled. Prepare yourselves.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
High Fashion~
Today I decided that tomorrow...tomorrow I will be a woman. As opposed to merely a gestation vehicle for my future offspring that apparently mostly looks like she didn't have time to wash her hair. Tomorrow I will wear clothes that fit, I will do something with my clean hair other than a ponytail, I will put on make-up...I may even wear shoes that are not tennis shoes or flip-flops. Maybe. Let's not get too carried away.
The motivation for all this surely-to-be-exhausting prep work is that Jack and I are going to a wedding, sorta. I could probably go to this wedding in one of the summer muu-muu's that have been my warm weather dressy staple this year. But I guess the real motivation is that I am so, so, so, so tired of wearing tank tops and scrubs. I want to burn all my sensible cotton bikini underwear. I look in the mirror and want to cut off my ponytail - but I won't because every pregnancy book says no matter what Do. Not. Cut. Your. Hair. When. Pregnant. You will regret it. So I won't. But for one day- I would like to feel like myself again - like maybe Jack is staring at my ass for reasons other than wondering how much of my baby weight is living there. One day.
To this end, I went shopping for a sexy maternity dress. Not possible, you say? You might be correct. And I may be completely inappropriate for buying a jersey dress that shows every curve - including the monster one that is my belly. I should probably have gone with the more practical dress pants and nursing top that I tried on that I could wear to church all fall until I can fit back in my own clothes. That would have been way more useful that a clingy dress that I am unlikely to wear more than twice. So naturally I bought the clingy dress. Feeling pleased with myself, I walked around Target collecting a few other things. Then reality returned as I sneezed without crossing my legs, peed myself a little bit, and remembered I needed pantyliners.
The motivation for all this surely-to-be-exhausting prep work is that Jack and I are going to a wedding, sorta. I could probably go to this wedding in one of the summer muu-muu's that have been my warm weather dressy staple this year. But I guess the real motivation is that I am so, so, so, so tired of wearing tank tops and scrubs. I want to burn all my sensible cotton bikini underwear. I look in the mirror and want to cut off my ponytail - but I won't because every pregnancy book says no matter what Do. Not. Cut. Your. Hair. When. Pregnant. You will regret it. So I won't. But for one day- I would like to feel like myself again - like maybe Jack is staring at my ass for reasons other than wondering how much of my baby weight is living there. One day.
To this end, I went shopping for a sexy maternity dress. Not possible, you say? You might be correct. And I may be completely inappropriate for buying a jersey dress that shows every curve - including the monster one that is my belly. I should probably have gone with the more practical dress pants and nursing top that I tried on that I could wear to church all fall until I can fit back in my own clothes. That would have been way more useful that a clingy dress that I am unlikely to wear more than twice. So naturally I bought the clingy dress. Feeling pleased with myself, I walked around Target collecting a few other things. Then reality returned as I sneezed without crossing my legs, peed myself a little bit, and remembered I needed pantyliners.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Holding A Place~
Two years ago...
I was making frantic phone calls between Fenton and Bay City, trying to locate lost earrings. I was attempting last minute toe nail painting while half naked in a church basement. I was sweating through Lola's hot August wedding in a floor length bridesmaid dress, drinking mimosas on the bus with my Busia, and pretending to polka at her reception. Followed by more wedding wine and cake and hoopla. And then followed by the best decision ever...going out to the bar, running into Jack, and forever changing the course of my life.
Two years. My life seems marked by that night - life before Jack and now life with Jack. Two years later and Jack is still the best thing in my life. I love to look back at this blog and see the things that I wrote the morning after the wedding, the night after we met for drinks at the local dive bar, the perfect day where I already knew that I loved him. It is sweet to sit here and remember all those things and then look at us today - happy and peaceful, sharing a home and a life, engaged and looking forward to the birth of our child this fall. It is even more amazing to look further back in my blogging and remember all of the angst and the errors and the drama- and to be so thankful for it, because it all was an imperfect journey that brought me to this moment.
Jack is literally the best man that I know. He is real and honest and totally comfortable with who he is. He is so clever and funny and always the first person I want to share all my stories with. He understands me and makes me feel like everything I say is equally important - unless the Tigers are on, of course. No one is perfect. But despite this flaw...I just feel so incredibly blessed that God put both of us on this path that at first seemed so awful, only for us to meet up down that path years later - both better, wiser people - and be able to understand each other and create this new life that is unique to us. I found this poem a few months ago that makes me think of us - and of this kind of crazy journey that brought us here. I feel like this is the best thing we do for each other - every day, actively working on making a place in the world for each other. At the end of every day, no matter what insanity I run into - I get to come home and hold Jack. And he gets to come home to me. Lucky us.
Holding A Place
I will hold a space for you in which to be: My gift to you.
A place in the world beside me.
I will honor that space and protect it.
And if you hold a place for me I will accept and value it.
We two can do one another a great service here on earth while we are alive.
We can give one another shelter.
We cannot change the wind or the rain or devastation of storms.
We cannot make what will happen not happen.
But we can provide a feeling of safety in each other’s arms.
-Tian Dayton
I was making frantic phone calls between Fenton and Bay City, trying to locate lost earrings. I was attempting last minute toe nail painting while half naked in a church basement. I was sweating through Lola's hot August wedding in a floor length bridesmaid dress, drinking mimosas on the bus with my Busia, and pretending to polka at her reception. Followed by more wedding wine and cake and hoopla. And then followed by the best decision ever...going out to the bar, running into Jack, and forever changing the course of my life.
Two years. My life seems marked by that night - life before Jack and now life with Jack. Two years later and Jack is still the best thing in my life. I love to look back at this blog and see the things that I wrote the morning after the wedding, the night after we met for drinks at the local dive bar, the perfect day where I already knew that I loved him. It is sweet to sit here and remember all those things and then look at us today - happy and peaceful, sharing a home and a life, engaged and looking forward to the birth of our child this fall. It is even more amazing to look further back in my blogging and remember all of the angst and the errors and the drama- and to be so thankful for it, because it all was an imperfect journey that brought me to this moment.
Jack is literally the best man that I know. He is real and honest and totally comfortable with who he is. He is so clever and funny and always the first person I want to share all my stories with. He understands me and makes me feel like everything I say is equally important - unless the Tigers are on, of course. No one is perfect. But despite this flaw...I just feel so incredibly blessed that God put both of us on this path that at first seemed so awful, only for us to meet up down that path years later - both better, wiser people - and be able to understand each other and create this new life that is unique to us. I found this poem a few months ago that makes me think of us - and of this kind of crazy journey that brought us here. I feel like this is the best thing we do for each other - every day, actively working on making a place in the world for each other. At the end of every day, no matter what insanity I run into - I get to come home and hold Jack. And he gets to come home to me. Lucky us.
Holding A Place
I will hold a space for you in which to be: My gift to you.
A place in the world beside me.
I will honor that space and protect it.
And if you hold a place for me I will accept and value it.
We two can do one another a great service here on earth while we are alive.
We can give one another shelter.
We cannot change the wind or the rain or devastation of storms.
We cannot make what will happen not happen.
But we can provide a feeling of safety in each other’s arms.
-Tian Dayton
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
No Pain, No Gain~
I was recently discussing the idea of pregnancy and exercise with a man of my acquaintance. To protect this man from certain death at the hands of all women who have been pregnant, are pregnant, or wish to be pregnant in the future; I will leave him nameless, even alias-less.
I have not exercised a great deal since finding out I was pregnant. I did exercise somewhat haphazardly before finding out I was pregnant, back when my boobs still outdid my belly. I didn't stop working out simply because I found out I was pregnant. I stopped working out because my belly started growing and I discovered that there are ligaments that run from the bottom of my ribs to a region around the inside of my pelvis. If you are visualizing this correctly then you will see that as my belly grows, these ligaments are either growing, too, or they are stretching. Either way - they hurt. They ache when I sit still or when I move slowly - and they yank on my nether regions every time I make an abrupt motion or move too quickly to either side. It is like some freak torture machine of nature that is built in to ensure I am always moving very carefully so that my baby doesn't get twisted up. I am hopeful that it will go away, or at least lessen, once my body realizes this belly is here to stay - but I am not getting my hopes up.
Anyway...in discussing this with the male of my acquaintance, I was explaining that his suggestion of my using my elliptical machine was not valid because of this pulling. His response? No pain, no gain. And he said it with a straight face. After I harnessed my homicidal instinct and resisted going for his throat armed only with half bitten nails and blood lust, I thought about what a huge disconnect this issue is for males and females. No matter what, a man just cannot fully comprehend how this feels.
So naturally I have devised an experiment so that this male- and any others that believe I should just tough it out and start sweating on the elliptical - will need to do before they are allowed to say anything about pregnancy and exercising again. First he will need to assemble the following items: A cantaloupe, duct tape, and two large rubber bands. Duct tape that cantaloupe to his lower belly. Attach one end of each rubberband to the left and right side of the cantaloupe and then stretch them down and loop them around all the man parts. Feel the tug when you move? Good. Now hop on up there on the elliptical machine, my friend, and start exercising/whimpering/begging my forgiveness. What? Can't do it? It hurts? Sorry buddy. No pain, no gain.
I have not exercised a great deal since finding out I was pregnant. I did exercise somewhat haphazardly before finding out I was pregnant, back when my boobs still outdid my belly. I didn't stop working out simply because I found out I was pregnant. I stopped working out because my belly started growing and I discovered that there are ligaments that run from the bottom of my ribs to a region around the inside of my pelvis. If you are visualizing this correctly then you will see that as my belly grows, these ligaments are either growing, too, or they are stretching. Either way - they hurt. They ache when I sit still or when I move slowly - and they yank on my nether regions every time I make an abrupt motion or move too quickly to either side. It is like some freak torture machine of nature that is built in to ensure I am always moving very carefully so that my baby doesn't get twisted up. I am hopeful that it will go away, or at least lessen, once my body realizes this belly is here to stay - but I am not getting my hopes up.
Anyway...in discussing this with the male of my acquaintance, I was explaining that his suggestion of my using my elliptical machine was not valid because of this pulling. His response? No pain, no gain. And he said it with a straight face. After I harnessed my homicidal instinct and resisted going for his throat armed only with half bitten nails and blood lust, I thought about what a huge disconnect this issue is for males and females. No matter what, a man just cannot fully comprehend how this feels.
So naturally I have devised an experiment so that this male- and any others that believe I should just tough it out and start sweating on the elliptical - will need to do before they are allowed to say anything about pregnancy and exercising again. First he will need to assemble the following items: A cantaloupe, duct tape, and two large rubber bands. Duct tape that cantaloupe to his lower belly. Attach one end of each rubberband to the left and right side of the cantaloupe and then stretch them down and loop them around all the man parts. Feel the tug when you move? Good. Now hop on up there on the elliptical machine, my friend, and start exercising/whimpering/begging my forgiveness. What? Can't do it? It hurts? Sorry buddy. No pain, no gain.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Bathroom~
For all readers that do not do well with discussions on bodily functions or all readers that are my mother and think that I should not discuss peeing in a public forum...look away.
Pregnancy is a beautiful, magical, and sometimes disturbing thing. At least for me. I do not know if I feel this way because I had to very quickly process this pregnancy due to Larry's stealth ninja moves or if I would feel this way regardless. Having wanted to be a mom forever, I have had many thoughts of how this would be and had many conversations of how other women's pregnancies have gone - and here is the thing no one told me and I never thought about:
Pregnant women (at least this one) spend a significant amount of time and attention...in the bathroom.
Thinking about being pregnant, I never thought about the setting being in the bathroom. I thought about nurseries and cute preggo dresses with big bellies and even living on the couch like a cranky beached whale. (That last one did come true, by the way) But no one prepared me for the amount of brain power I would spend thinking about the bathroom or about the quickest way to get to the bathroom or the plotting of a schedule and a route to the nearest bathroom during any outing. But rising above all of this are the two biggest bathroom issues that no one ever discussed with me, that I am now sharing as a public service announcement. Also, because Lola told me it was very funny when I was lamenting to her about it.
Lament Number One: The unproductive pee
I don't mind so much that I have to pee fifty times a day. I have even gotten used to rolling out of bed, still mostly asleep, to pee and then sleepwalking back to bed every night. But for the love of all that is holy - if I am going to go to all that effort...there should be a satisfying end result. A good, solid, bladder-emptying pee. Not so. I cannot count the number of times I have felt an urgent need to pee, only to speedwalk to the nearest bathroom to trickle. And then on the walk back out, still felt like I needed to pee. In my brain, I see a devilish picture of my baby strategically poking into my bladder and laughing as I swear at the toilet after such an event. This is why I will torment him with green beans and educational tv.
Lament Number Two: Hemorrhoids
Ok, not actual hemorrhoids. At least not yet. Just the fear of them. This I blame on baby books. Being a self-proclaimed geek and book worm, you must know that I have read at least three and maybe seven books on pregnancy by now. And I have left all of this research with two fears; tearing (understandable) and hemorrhoids. Every book warns of these evil things that every one sorta knows about but doesn't really until a prego book spells it out. I am going to get WHAT? WHERE? And these same helpful books caution against pushing too hard while in the bathroom or it seems that they will spontaneous pop out these little evil spots of pain. So now every single time I am in the bathroom I am weighing the strength of my bowels. What is the perfect balance of pressure that gets everything out that is supposed to be but saves me from the horrors of hemorrhoids? If I lean over to one side and then the other will everything just slide out without effort? Should I just stop eating solid foods and make all my meals into blender meals to avoid this? All these thoughts have crossed my mind in the last month. Hemorrhoids? No. way. I am going to will it not to happen. I may even include it in nightly prayer. Dear God, thank you for all my blessings, please watch out for my family, and please do not let me develop disgusting, painful, itchy bumps on my ass. Thank you.
And you're welcome.
Pregnancy is a beautiful, magical, and sometimes disturbing thing. At least for me. I do not know if I feel this way because I had to very quickly process this pregnancy due to Larry's stealth ninja moves or if I would feel this way regardless. Having wanted to be a mom forever, I have had many thoughts of how this would be and had many conversations of how other women's pregnancies have gone - and here is the thing no one told me and I never thought about:
Pregnant women (at least this one) spend a significant amount of time and attention...in the bathroom.
Thinking about being pregnant, I never thought about the setting being in the bathroom. I thought about nurseries and cute preggo dresses with big bellies and even living on the couch like a cranky beached whale. (That last one did come true, by the way) But no one prepared me for the amount of brain power I would spend thinking about the bathroom or about the quickest way to get to the bathroom or the plotting of a schedule and a route to the nearest bathroom during any outing. But rising above all of this are the two biggest bathroom issues that no one ever discussed with me, that I am now sharing as a public service announcement. Also, because Lola told me it was very funny when I was lamenting to her about it.
Lament Number One: The unproductive pee
I don't mind so much that I have to pee fifty times a day. I have even gotten used to rolling out of bed, still mostly asleep, to pee and then sleepwalking back to bed every night. But for the love of all that is holy - if I am going to go to all that effort...there should be a satisfying end result. A good, solid, bladder-emptying pee. Not so. I cannot count the number of times I have felt an urgent need to pee, only to speedwalk to the nearest bathroom to trickle. And then on the walk back out, still felt like I needed to pee. In my brain, I see a devilish picture of my baby strategically poking into my bladder and laughing as I swear at the toilet after such an event. This is why I will torment him with green beans and educational tv.
Lament Number Two: Hemorrhoids
Ok, not actual hemorrhoids. At least not yet. Just the fear of them. This I blame on baby books. Being a self-proclaimed geek and book worm, you must know that I have read at least three and maybe seven books on pregnancy by now. And I have left all of this research with two fears; tearing (understandable) and hemorrhoids. Every book warns of these evil things that every one sorta knows about but doesn't really until a prego book spells it out. I am going to get WHAT? WHERE? And these same helpful books caution against pushing too hard while in the bathroom or it seems that they will spontaneous pop out these little evil spots of pain. So now every single time I am in the bathroom I am weighing the strength of my bowels. What is the perfect balance of pressure that gets everything out that is supposed to be but saves me from the horrors of hemorrhoids? If I lean over to one side and then the other will everything just slide out without effort? Should I just stop eating solid foods and make all my meals into blender meals to avoid this? All these thoughts have crossed my mind in the last month. Hemorrhoids? No. way. I am going to will it not to happen. I may even include it in nightly prayer. Dear God, thank you for all my blessings, please watch out for my family, and please do not let me develop disgusting, painful, itchy bumps on my ass. Thank you.
And you're welcome.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Story of Larry~
This woman is ....pregnant!
Jack and I are super excited, super happy....and super surprised. Why? First, because I am pregnant at all. Second, because by the time we found out I was pregnant and went for our first ultrasound, I was 15 weeks along already. Yup, totally skipped knowing my entire first trimester. I still maintain this is not my fault - Larry is super stealthy. And......
I knew I was pregnant in February. KNEW IT. Was totally convinced. My period was late, I was nauseaus in the morning, I was exhausted. For about three weeks I was totally convinced I was pregnant. I told Lola (who is a medical professional by the way), I told Jack (who humored me by patting my belly and calling it Larry), I took a dozen pregnancy tests (all negative), and I had three weekends where I had ultrasounds (nothing). Then I got a mini period, Lola gave me new birth control, and I felt fine....so life continued on with Lola and Jack thinking I was being unnecessarily dramatic. One month later, no period - I call Lola, panicked, only for her to tell me to quit imagining things, that this new pill could do that, stop worrying. So I stopped worrying until I started peeing. Constantly. Several times in the middle of the night. On a whim when I was walking through the bathroom aisles at Meijer I grabbed a test, went home and took it....and you know how that turned out. We still didn't connect the dots with February - until we went in for that ultrasound expecting to see a peanut and instead Larry was waving hi to us with all ten fingers. Finding a fully formed baby in my belly one Saturday afternoon? Totally the most shocking thing that has ever happened to me.
So now we are at eighteen weeks. My brain is still having a difficult time wrapping around the idea that a month ago I was in Chicago shopping for sexy clothes and today I don't fit into a single thing that I owned previously except for my scrubs and pajama pants. Life is suddenly very different. I would sleep and eat cheese pizza 24-7 if possible. (OK, maybe that pizza part isn't totally different) I hate pre-natal vitamins and was strangely excited to go in the shower one day and find my belly button off center. I am totally convinced that Jack is the best thing to happen to me and there is no one I would rather have by my side during this whole experience. He is always concerned about how I feel, rarely makes fun of me for not moving off the couch, and even got dressed one night to go out to get eggs to make me pepperoni bites. This is a grand new adventure that I hope I am awake enough to enjoy. And, as always, I will over-share all of it with you~
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