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| Learning to "smile." Love this little kiddo! |
Friday, September 28, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Plodding along
Feeling a little better this week.
(Whew...sighs the two people who actually read this blog!)
The emotional wet blanket isn't completely gone, but it's not dictating how my days and nights are. I am, however, deep in the mire of third-trimester exhaustion. I TOTALLY forgot how this felt! Michael reminded me it was the same last time...clearly, I blocked it out. It's the same as early pregnancy, but with the caveat that it's actually harder to run around and catch up with Olivia nowadays.
I haven't been to the pool in about a week. I think I just need to kick myself back into the habit, no matter how tired I am at night and how impossible it feels to get up that early. It does help and there's not much time left to keep up the habit.
Otherwise, I have much to share on the update front, but not much time to type it all out right now. We had a marathon day of appointments down at CHOP on Monday, including a tour of the CICU and CCU, as well as the special delivery unit. Little Man is developing well and growing just right. He's around 4 pounds 11 ounces right now -- right on target. We're continuing to manage the insulin/GDM issues, but they're basically under control. From here on out, I'm visiting weekly for biophysical profiles and echos. Next week, I'm eager to have our first echo in 5 weeks.
(Whew...sighs the two people who actually read this blog!)
The emotional wet blanket isn't completely gone, but it's not dictating how my days and nights are. I am, however, deep in the mire of third-trimester exhaustion. I TOTALLY forgot how this felt! Michael reminded me it was the same last time...clearly, I blocked it out. It's the same as early pregnancy, but with the caveat that it's actually harder to run around and catch up with Olivia nowadays.
I haven't been to the pool in about a week. I think I just need to kick myself back into the habit, no matter how tired I am at night and how impossible it feels to get up that early. It does help and there's not much time left to keep up the habit.
Otherwise, I have much to share on the update front, but not much time to type it all out right now. We had a marathon day of appointments down at CHOP on Monday, including a tour of the CICU and CCU, as well as the special delivery unit. Little Man is developing well and growing just right. He's around 4 pounds 11 ounces right now -- right on target. We're continuing to manage the insulin/GDM issues, but they're basically under control. From here on out, I'm visiting weekly for biophysical profiles and echos. Next week, I'm eager to have our first echo in 5 weeks.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Trying
I working on it all.
This morning I made it to the gym again for a swim. A trifle of a 20 minute visit, but it's all I have right now and I think it's helps physically. My pelvis isn't hurting as much from sitting all day.
At lunch, I got my hair cut. Nothing terribly special, but something that makes me feel better about the way I look.
Tonight I'm going to therapy. I'm not sure this therapist is willing to really challenge me or push me at all, but at minimum she's willing to talk to me about this sadness and what can be done, if anything. (Sometimes I wish my therapy sessions were on the bad days...it always seems that I arrive at her office with a smile and my tears are hidden at home.)
Last night I tried to be more present for Olivia when I could. Smiled more and was (hopefully) a tad more fun.
This weekend we've decided to push through our last to do list items. It won't solve it all, but I think it will help me feel a little less pressure from all the little things and take away some excuses for me to blame my grumpiness on the status of our "getting ready" plans.
53 more days.
This morning I made it to the gym again for a swim. A trifle of a 20 minute visit, but it's all I have right now and I think it's helps physically. My pelvis isn't hurting as much from sitting all day.
At lunch, I got my hair cut. Nothing terribly special, but something that makes me feel better about the way I look.
Tonight I'm going to therapy. I'm not sure this therapist is willing to really challenge me or push me at all, but at minimum she's willing to talk to me about this sadness and what can be done, if anything. (Sometimes I wish my therapy sessions were on the bad days...it always seems that I arrive at her office with a smile and my tears are hidden at home.)
Last night I tried to be more present for Olivia when I could. Smiled more and was (hopefully) a tad more fun.
This weekend we've decided to push through our last to do list items. It won't solve it all, but I think it will help me feel a little less pressure from all the little things and take away some excuses for me to blame my grumpiness on the status of our "getting ready" plans.
53 more days.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
54 Days
One day, likely 53 days from now, I'll look back on this post with relief or humor and think, "wow, I fell apart early this time."
But right now, 54 days feels like forever. I've been mired in the bad parts of third trimester. Physically, the pregnancy is starting to take a toll. My hips and feet hurt, my ligament pain is increasing, and even rolling over in bed at night is difficult and painful.
I'm also struggling with the emotions of this all. Sometimes I just get waves of sadness and despair out of nowhere. Last night, I was laying there after the tv was off and Michael was asleep and just starting crying. No reason. (Or every reason, whichever way you look at it.) It's all so much and I'm just mired in it every day and exhausted in all possible ways.
And there are 54 more days of this.
It's horrible, but I dread most of my days. I'm even finding myself being short with Olivia out of sheer exhaustion, and at the same time deeply concerned that there's a distance growing between us. She's a Daddy's Girl....always has been. And it hurts -- a hurt only a mom can understand -- when she rejects me for whatever reason. Recently, I think it's because I'm generally less fun and can't do a ton of stuff I used to. Last night, she refused to get changed for bed by me and insisted on her Dada. Broke. My. Heart.
All of this is small. I realize it is. At least, academically, I get it. But when I feel it...when I experience these moments in time and the discomfort and anxiety...when I feel my life right now it's huge and overwhelming. I want to give up, switch off the power and crawl into bed and say goodnight. And I can't seem to do that.
The worst part is that I'm not sure there's much I can do. I can't make any of this go faster. I can't create energy where there isn't any. I can't make it easier to run after Olivia or force her to savor the quality moments we do have. I can't stop the dread and the fear.
Or maybe I can, but I have no energy to try. I'm tapped right now and it's Tuesday afternoon and each week feels just like this. Tapped before we begin and trudging through the rest, hoping my husband doesn't care that he spends most nights in front of the tv alone because I'm going to bed at 8...or even 7:30. Staring at the list of remaining tasks that simply doesn't budge because I have no energy to try at the end of the day and our weekends are prioritized elsewhere.
Essentially living in this land of waiting, stuck in an emotional purgatory.
But right now, 54 days feels like forever. I've been mired in the bad parts of third trimester. Physically, the pregnancy is starting to take a toll. My hips and feet hurt, my ligament pain is increasing, and even rolling over in bed at night is difficult and painful.
I'm also struggling with the emotions of this all. Sometimes I just get waves of sadness and despair out of nowhere. Last night, I was laying there after the tv was off and Michael was asleep and just starting crying. No reason. (Or every reason, whichever way you look at it.) It's all so much and I'm just mired in it every day and exhausted in all possible ways.
And there are 54 more days of this.
It's horrible, but I dread most of my days. I'm even finding myself being short with Olivia out of sheer exhaustion, and at the same time deeply concerned that there's a distance growing between us. She's a Daddy's Girl....always has been. And it hurts -- a hurt only a mom can understand -- when she rejects me for whatever reason. Recently, I think it's because I'm generally less fun and can't do a ton of stuff I used to. Last night, she refused to get changed for bed by me and insisted on her Dada. Broke. My. Heart.
All of this is small. I realize it is. At least, academically, I get it. But when I feel it...when I experience these moments in time and the discomfort and anxiety...when I feel my life right now it's huge and overwhelming. I want to give up, switch off the power and crawl into bed and say goodnight. And I can't seem to do that.
The worst part is that I'm not sure there's much I can do. I can't make any of this go faster. I can't create energy where there isn't any. I can't make it easier to run after Olivia or force her to savor the quality moments we do have. I can't stop the dread and the fear.
Or maybe I can, but I have no energy to try. I'm tapped right now and it's Tuesday afternoon and each week feels just like this. Tapped before we begin and trudging through the rest, hoping my husband doesn't care that he spends most nights in front of the tv alone because I'm going to bed at 8...or even 7:30. Staring at the list of remaining tasks that simply doesn't budge because I have no energy to try at the end of the day and our weekends are prioritized elsewhere.
Essentially living in this land of waiting, stuck in an emotional purgatory.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Random nothings
While this week seems to be draaaaaging along in stubborn fashion, I'm starting to feel less overwhelmed and anxious. I'm coming to realize that the peace and panic come in waves, so just ride it out while it's here.
I finally made it to the pool yesterday and, for once, didn't feel guilty about it. Michael did fine with Olivia at home and it wasn't all that hard to get in the pool on time and spend a little time. There was a HUGE masters class while I was there and I was terribly, terribly jealous. Took me back to when I actually could swim with a little speed and would have so much fun with different sets in each workout. Perhaps one of the things I'll ask for around the holidays is a swim set book -- one of those waterproof ones with fun workouts you don't have to come up with on your own.
I also started reading (finally) the book I downloaded on to the Kindle recently to help me calm my nerves and find a little "center" in all of this chaos. Called A Wise Heart, it's basically a discussion of Buddhist philosophy as it applies to modern psychology. I read most of it back when we were enduring our first infertility/IVF fight and ate it up like candy. It's wonderfully written and forces me to slow down and focus on the techniques of the approach, all the while thinking "how can I use this?" I suspect I'll load my Kindle up with books like this and maybe some fiction fluff for those long hours at the hospital.
In the mean time, I'm trying pace myself and focus on my work -- there's certainly enough there to keep me busy! If I find myself zooming again, I'm going to try my best to break the cycle by getting up and out of my desk, walk around, talk to someone, and then try again. And if I can...get to the pool again tomorrow. And maybe Saturday, too!
I finally made it to the pool yesterday and, for once, didn't feel guilty about it. Michael did fine with Olivia at home and it wasn't all that hard to get in the pool on time and spend a little time. There was a HUGE masters class while I was there and I was terribly, terribly jealous. Took me back to when I actually could swim with a little speed and would have so much fun with different sets in each workout. Perhaps one of the things I'll ask for around the holidays is a swim set book -- one of those waterproof ones with fun workouts you don't have to come up with on your own.
I also started reading (finally) the book I downloaded on to the Kindle recently to help me calm my nerves and find a little "center" in all of this chaos. Called A Wise Heart, it's basically a discussion of Buddhist philosophy as it applies to modern psychology. I read most of it back when we were enduring our first infertility/IVF fight and ate it up like candy. It's wonderfully written and forces me to slow down and focus on the techniques of the approach, all the while thinking "how can I use this?" I suspect I'll load my Kindle up with books like this and maybe some fiction fluff for those long hours at the hospital.
In the mean time, I'm trying pace myself and focus on my work -- there's certainly enough there to keep me busy! If I find myself zooming again, I'm going to try my best to break the cycle by getting up and out of my desk, walk around, talk to someone, and then try again. And if I can...get to the pool again tomorrow. And maybe Saturday, too!
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Weaving my own basket
I'm the tiniest bit of a wreck today. And it's only a Tuesday.
But I'm off. Terribly off. It's hard to describe, but the best way to is that I'm anxious and distracted. I bounce from 'to do' list item to the next, trying to feel like we're ready or prepared for the baby's arrival, the whole time knowing that it's simply not getting any damned closer.
And that's been hard this week.
It's all little things, which fall from my sieve of a mind. Cleaning under the bathroom cabinet - cause heavens if my family members see some mess or can't find one of the 50 rolls of toilet paper we have waiting for them. Buying a lamp for Olivia or ordering the prints for the nursery. Does the kitchen pantry need to be cleaned? Yes! Time to cull the toys in the living room to make room for a swing. Oh holy hell...I forgot to put checking to see if the swing even works. Every time I think I get closer to closing down a project/room/space of crazy in my brain...there's one other thing to do.
And can we talk about my weight? Seriously? I just passed my weight from my last pregnancy, with many more weeks to go. Heaviest I've ever been in my life. I literally make people gasp as I pass them by and I just want to scream I KNOW...I GET IT...I AM AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS I LOOK. The only thing that's worse is the look I get from folks who don't believe how much more time I have to go. Or the coworker who very pointedly asked if I was sure I'm not having twins. Or the one that "feels like I've been pregnant forever!" Seriously? Eff you all. You should know better.
And I'm struggling to put this nervous energy anywhere productive. I'm getting through projects at work well, but my brain is bouncing off the wall. When I go home, I get through as much as I can, but am often too tired or completely unmotivated to tackle a big project before bed. And no matter how many times I look at the calendar, it's still over 8 weeks until he arrives. Oh good lord it feels like it's been 8 weeks forever.
No doubt my emotions have been double dipped in hormones with a side of sprinkles. When oh when can I finally get to a point in my life when waiting isn't such a chore? When I can graciously gaze forward in expectation while enjoying the calm of today. Cause it's all calm over here. Not really a lot of doc appointments yet. Liv is healthy and amazing. Work is busy in a good way.
SO WHY AM I A FREAKING BASKET CASE???
I need a day off. I need a day for myself - or even just a half a day. When there's no work, no kid, no need to put on tents and tight shoes. I need a vacation, but there's not a single one in the future. Is it horrible that I almost wish I were sick enough to stay home just so I could rest? Sigh. LE SIGH. Such drama in this prego's brain.
But I'm off. Terribly off. It's hard to describe, but the best way to is that I'm anxious and distracted. I bounce from 'to do' list item to the next, trying to feel like we're ready or prepared for the baby's arrival, the whole time knowing that it's simply not getting any damned closer.
And that's been hard this week.
It's all little things, which fall from my sieve of a mind. Cleaning under the bathroom cabinet - cause heavens if my family members see some mess or can't find one of the 50 rolls of toilet paper we have waiting for them. Buying a lamp for Olivia or ordering the prints for the nursery. Does the kitchen pantry need to be cleaned? Yes! Time to cull the toys in the living room to make room for a swing. Oh holy hell...I forgot to put checking to see if the swing even works. Every time I think I get closer to closing down a project/room/space of crazy in my brain...there's one other thing to do.
And can we talk about my weight? Seriously? I just passed my weight from my last pregnancy, with many more weeks to go. Heaviest I've ever been in my life. I literally make people gasp as I pass them by and I just want to scream I KNOW...I GET IT...I AM AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS I LOOK. The only thing that's worse is the look I get from folks who don't believe how much more time I have to go. Or the coworker who very pointedly asked if I was sure I'm not having twins. Or the one that "feels like I've been pregnant forever!" Seriously? Eff you all. You should know better.
And I'm struggling to put this nervous energy anywhere productive. I'm getting through projects at work well, but my brain is bouncing off the wall. When I go home, I get through as much as I can, but am often too tired or completely unmotivated to tackle a big project before bed. And no matter how many times I look at the calendar, it's still over 8 weeks until he arrives. Oh good lord it feels like it's been 8 weeks forever.
No doubt my emotions have been double dipped in hormones with a side of sprinkles. When oh when can I finally get to a point in my life when waiting isn't such a chore? When I can graciously gaze forward in expectation while enjoying the calm of today. Cause it's all calm over here. Not really a lot of doc appointments yet. Liv is healthy and amazing. Work is busy in a good way.
SO WHY AM I A FREAKING BASKET CASE???
I need a day off. I need a day for myself - or even just a half a day. When there's no work, no kid, no need to put on tents and tight shoes. I need a vacation, but there's not a single one in the future. Is it horrible that I almost wish I were sick enough to stay home just so I could rest? Sigh. LE SIGH. Such drama in this prego's brain.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Torn
I remember feeling torn during the end of my last pregnancy. Wishing one minute that she would hurry up and arrive and the next that she would sit tight until I got that one last project done. It was never a terribly dramatic roller coaster, just passing whims. The only exception to this was the last couple weeks, when I just wanted them to TAKE HER ALREADY DAMMIT. But that was because I was tired and hurting. Well duh.
This time is different. The knowledge that we'll have this experience with Little Man's heart right after he's born is a gift -- a blessing that we can plan for and get the absolute best medical care in the country for him. But it's also a curse. The flip is that we spend the last half of this pregnancy worrying.
The worry comes in many forms for me. I worry about how to navigate parenting Olivia well when he's critical, when he's more stable, and finally when he's returned home and just plain special. I worry about his heart. How will it look when they finally get in there? Will there be surprises? I worry about surgery and death. I worry about "complications" and pain and even death. I worry about my own physical recovery from surgery and healing properly when all I want to do is stand next to his bedside whispering to him. I worry about breast feeding and failing at it again, this time with higher stakes. I worry about money and the total lack of it for bills and Christmas. I worry about juggling a loving and caring family and their expectations for how to help in this time of crisis. I worry about bonding with him through all this fear.
And, even with all of this on my mind every moment of the day, I wish he were here already. This holding pattern is a challenge. To emotionally stay in the "what if" zone and only be able to prepare for what you think might happen, all the time knowing that it may completely change, is HARD. I'm getting fatigued. We're drawing near to the end of our task lists and starting to feel honestly prepared for his arrival. But, that leaves us with question: what to do now?
Waiting is so damn hard.
Thankfully, we had a little distraction this weekend with a trip to the beach (the last for the season) to see GrandDad. Olivia has been Skyping with him, which is nice to see. I always worry that they don't have enough time to spend together, so this trip is important. And then...not a whole lot to do except sleep when we can, tie up loose ends, and get those last couple of projects done. A little more nesting and lot more soaking up Olivia and then...8 weeks from now...our world finally changes again.
FINALLY.
This time is different. The knowledge that we'll have this experience with Little Man's heart right after he's born is a gift -- a blessing that we can plan for and get the absolute best medical care in the country for him. But it's also a curse. The flip is that we spend the last half of this pregnancy worrying.
The worry comes in many forms for me. I worry about how to navigate parenting Olivia well when he's critical, when he's more stable, and finally when he's returned home and just plain special. I worry about his heart. How will it look when they finally get in there? Will there be surprises? I worry about surgery and death. I worry about "complications" and pain and even death. I worry about my own physical recovery from surgery and healing properly when all I want to do is stand next to his bedside whispering to him. I worry about breast feeding and failing at it again, this time with higher stakes. I worry about money and the total lack of it for bills and Christmas. I worry about juggling a loving and caring family and their expectations for how to help in this time of crisis. I worry about bonding with him through all this fear.
And, even with all of this on my mind every moment of the day, I wish he were here already. This holding pattern is a challenge. To emotionally stay in the "what if" zone and only be able to prepare for what you think might happen, all the time knowing that it may completely change, is HARD. I'm getting fatigued. We're drawing near to the end of our task lists and starting to feel honestly prepared for his arrival. But, that leaves us with question: what to do now?
Waiting is so damn hard.
Thankfully, we had a little distraction this weekend with a trip to the beach (the last for the season) to see GrandDad. Olivia has been Skyping with him, which is nice to see. I always worry that they don't have enough time to spend together, so this trip is important. And then...not a whole lot to do except sleep when we can, tie up loose ends, and get those last couple of projects done. A little more nesting and lot more soaking up Olivia and then...8 weeks from now...our world finally changes again.
FINALLY.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Sleepless Night
Oh good grief, that was a long night.
Generally, Olivia does fabulously in her "new" big girl bed. She's a champ -- transitioned to it well and has gone to bed for naps and nighttime without much protest ever. It's a wonderful blessing. Honestly, one that I am so, so thankful for every day.
But, last night she was stuffy and it blew up in her/our faces. Poor thing woke around midnight and wouldn't settle again until after 3. Michael and I tag teamed, just like the days when she was a little tyke, and it helped, but it meant that neither of us has any quality sleep under our belts today. What we realized early on was: we have no idea how to handle a "bad" night in a big girl bed.
None.
I've not done a lick of reading on the topic, so when she started screaming and crying, I didn't really know what to do. The only nugget I held onto was "never get in the bed with the child." So, for the most part, we didn't. (Poor Michael had not heard this advice, so he thoughtfully tried (in the 2nd hour) to calm her that way and I kind of kicked him out. Sorry, hun.)
So I spent a good part of last night very pregnant sitting on a super uncomfortable step stool next to her bed reassuring her that it's okay to go back to sleep.
Epic fail.
Finally, we gave up. There's always that wall that parents hit (or at least, we do) when it comes to middle of the night antics. Once we hit it, FEEL FREE TO CRY YOUR FACE OFF, KID. We're listening in the other room, but not going to play along anymore. Let the neglect begin.
Broke my heart to listen to, but damned if it didn't work. Took about 15 minutes of theworldiscrumbling sobs and myemotionalpainwillrequireyearsoftherapy screams...and then silence. Blessed silence. It only left 2 more hours of sleep for us grownups, but it was an important lesson to learn for the next time.
Cry it out is our friend.
Generally, Olivia does fabulously in her "new" big girl bed. She's a champ -- transitioned to it well and has gone to bed for naps and nighttime without much protest ever. It's a wonderful blessing. Honestly, one that I am so, so thankful for every day.
But, last night she was stuffy and it blew up in her/our faces. Poor thing woke around midnight and wouldn't settle again until after 3. Michael and I tag teamed, just like the days when she was a little tyke, and it helped, but it meant that neither of us has any quality sleep under our belts today. What we realized early on was: we have no idea how to handle a "bad" night in a big girl bed.
None.
I've not done a lick of reading on the topic, so when she started screaming and crying, I didn't really know what to do. The only nugget I held onto was "never get in the bed with the child." So, for the most part, we didn't. (Poor Michael had not heard this advice, so he thoughtfully tried (in the 2nd hour) to calm her that way and I kind of kicked him out. Sorry, hun.)
So I spent a good part of last night very pregnant sitting on a super uncomfortable step stool next to her bed reassuring her that it's okay to go back to sleep.
Epic fail.
Finally, we gave up. There's always that wall that parents hit (or at least, we do) when it comes to middle of the night antics. Once we hit it, FEEL FREE TO CRY YOUR FACE OFF, KID. We're listening in the other room, but not going to play along anymore. Let the neglect begin.
Broke my heart to listen to, but damned if it didn't work. Took about 15 minutes of theworldiscrumbling sobs and myemotionalpainwillrequireyearsoftherapy screams...and then silence. Blessed silence. It only left 2 more hours of sleep for us grownups, but it was an important lesson to learn for the next time.
Cry it out is our friend.
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