Faith

Aliza's baptism is coming up soon. I started the process back when I was still pregnant, and spent little time thinking about the whole thing other than to know, without doubt, that I wanted her baptized at the church where we were married. We attended our baptismal class when I was still pregnant also, and I found it to be rather uninformative in a very disappointing way. Now that her baptism is right around the corner I find myself thinking about faith, and religion, and spirituality and all of those intangibles that are in some way-large or small-in everyone's life.


I was raised a Catholic. My relationship with the church, and with my own faith, has not been the easiest of journeys. The first major bump in the road came when I was a first year in college and a high school friend died in a car accident. I was angry. I was angry in a way that came from living a life that was filled with light and laughter and love and blessings. My parents did an amazing job sheltering us from the world and so this, this inexplicable, sudden, shocking, tragic death rocked me to my core and made me question so much of my world, and most especially my faith. I became angry at the people that said the platitudes--things like "God needed another angel" or "It was her time to go." She was 17. She hadn't been drinking or doing drugs or speeding. The two other people in the car walked away without even a broken bone. And my friend died. I didn't get it and I was pissed. I wanted an answer, I wanted to know why....

It took me awhile to figure out that there was no answer. It just was.


My second major bump also came in college....after my friend died I avoided church for awhile. Then I started to go back to it--slowly. I admit a part of it was for the social aspect--my roommate and a number of close friends were Catholic. Then I started going to a liturgical group on campus. We'd talk about upcoming readings and help the Chaplain with her sermon. It was a time where I came to struggle and question and wrestle with the bible and I enjoyed it. Until the other members of the group would say things like "if you don't believe ____ then you aren't really a Catholic" Wow. I didn't understand this....I was on this journey and taking some pride in not having blind faith. In questioning and struggling and discarding those beliefs which didn't make sense to me. To hear someone say that I wasn't truly a Catholic because I didn't believe every single teaching....well, that confused me and made me wonder if maybe I wasn't a true Catholic. This time it took me awhile to figure out that you could talk to a hundred different people who called themselves Catholic and discover that they each had their own set of beliefs.

After college I started going back to church with my mom and dad. I love this time that I get to have them all to myself. I love that Sunday morning has turned into my weekly dose of calm and reflection. A time where I get to stop and breathe and stand in awe at the blessings I have in my life and start a new week feeling lighter. I imagined, years ago, bringing my child with me to church with my parents....and now that dream is a reality.

Now I wonder what Aliza will learn from the church. Interestingly, my husband does not attend church, and, of course, I have never pressured him to do so. Because he is the amazing person that he is, he supports me--even getting married in a Catholic ceremony because he knew how important that was to me. He also supported the decision to raise Aliza Catholic, even though he himself doesn't believe in much of what the church has to say. Whenever we talk about faith I find myself frustrated with him. How do you explain a belief system that you have spent your whole life learning and defining? Especially when so much of it is indefinable....He approaches faith and spirituality in an intellectual way--talking about the history of the church, analyzing the beliefs that people hold. And I approach it in an emotional way--knowing what I believe comes from my own struggles and questions. Knowing that when my friend died, it was, at the end, my faith that helped me through it.

What's most interesting is that I actually believe my husband to be a rather spiritual person. Not in the believing in God sort of way, but in the way he lives his life. He is a good man. And he has a good soul. You can spend less than five minutes with him and learn that right away. And when I think about Aliza, and raising her in the church, I realize that what I really want for her is to take away the most important of lessons: to be a good person in everything that you do. I believe my husband is a good person, without being raised in the church. And I try my hardest to be a good person. So I hope that she finds that, in the church or out.....

Happy baby

Stats

At her one month check up, Aliza had the following stats:

Weight: 9 lbs 11.5 ounces

Height: 21 inches
(Both of these put her in about the 75th percentile)

Head circumference: 35.4 inches (that puts her in the 5th-10th percentile-- apparently she has a very tiny head. But it's growing, so that's OK. And frankly, I don't mind that her head was tiny, especially when she was delivered without an epidural.)

Today, at her two month check up, she had the following stats:

Weight: 12 pounds 2 ounces

Height: 22 1/4 inches

Three years ago....

Three years ago today I wore a white dress and said those two magical words that entwined my life forever with Russ'. Russ, in keeping with a tradition he began when we celebrated our first anniversary, documented our year together with a poem. Here it is:

Year Three:

Aliza Maria Sherman

Not long ago, on a day in September

We welcome hope to outshine our fear

A non-descript day flips to one we remember

Embracing the knowledge our child is near

On a day in May, with your hand in mine

Our prayers now answered by way of this gift

In this young girl I first see divine

Together, our future in our arms we lift

With father's eyes and her mother's kind heart

She begins her first chapter in our historical manse

Wrapped in blankets made with love from the start

A place where she will learn, love, and dance

But her life started far before this tale

On a day three years to this very date

When I pledge my life in every detail

Until the hour of my own life grows late

I don't think I could have said it any better....

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen things I love about Aliza:

(Of course, there are a TON more than 13, but Thursday 2,571 just sounds weird. And these are in no particular order...)

1) Her pinky toe. This may sound odd, but it is the cutest, teensie-weensiest little thing ever. It's about the size of a.....well, I honestly can't think of anything it is the same size as. Smaller than a piece of corn. Seriously. It's just adorable.

2) How, when you put her down on her back, her arms automatically raise above her head and her little hands clench into fists. That's how she sleeps--arms up above her head.

3) When she is eating she makes cute little noises. Contented little "eh, eh, eh..." sounds. It makes me smile every time--even at 3 in the morning!

4) In the morning, when she first wakes up, she kinda hangs out in her bassinet, looking around, checking out the world. And, if I'm lucky, as soon as I say her name or come into her field of vision she'll give me the biggest, happiest smile. As if she is just so thrilled to see me in the morning. It melts my heart....

5) When she is done eating, she pulls herself away from me and sometimes she smacks her lips. As if to say "Yummy, Mom!". If she doesn't smack her lips then she has her eyes closed and her little lips pursed.

6) Reading her bedtime stories. She looks so intent. Like she is really listening and understanding and processing the story. OK, OK, I know that is the teacher in me, wanting that to be what is happening, but she's definitely paying attention!

7) As she wakes up she makes cute little grunty noises. And she stretches and wiggles. Then she'll fall asleep again for a bit, then wake up all over again and make those same noises. It takes her a little while to really be awake and the process is just adorable.

8) Pretty much anytime her Daddy is holding her. Those are the moments I think my heart might just explode with love--for both of them.

9) Her constant look of surprise. You can hold a spoon in front of her and it's the most amazing thing ever. Her little mouth makes an O shape and her eyes get all big and she'll just stare and stare.

10) The way she is changing every day. The other day I noticed her eyelashes...I'm not sure when this happened but they are darker and longer and curlier than they were even two days ago. And her eyes--they went from this slate gray/blue color to a lighter blue. I'm hoping they stay blue....

11) Her hiccoughs. I feel so badly for her when she has them because her whole little body vibrates from their strength, but they are so cute. Kind of squeaky and louder than you might think.

12) Pretty much anytime she is snuggling with me, which is often. She is cozy and warm and drapey and smells good and all of the amazing things a little miracle baby ought to be. I especially love when she falls asleep on me. It's the coziest, most peaceful thing in the world.

13) Her name....this may sound silly but her name feels really special to me. She is a little bit of Russ' family and a little bit of mine and a little bit all her own. And I love that.....

Weighting

For the first time in my life I've become slightly obsessed about my weight. Actually, not so much my weight because I don't have a scale so I have no idea how much I weigh. I guess I'm more obsessed with my clothes. All the cute summer skirts and shirts that I can't wear because they don't fit my post-baby body.

I knew this would happen. I knew that it took nine months for me to gain the weight, and it would take awhile to get it off again. I also knew (and if you saw me that last month you would totally agree) that since the majority of my weight was in my belly (my God the thing was HUGE) it would take even longer for my belly to shrink to its pre-baby state. But knowing ahead of time and actually living it are two very different things.


I'm doing what I'm supposed to do--exercising, trying to avoid junk (although being home so much is dangerous. Too much temptation to just eat all day long), drinking lots of water etc. And I am shrinking. My husband had a new nickname for me lately--the incredibly shrinking woman. I've already even gone down a size. I refuse to buy a ton of new clothes. Why bother, I figure, when I won't wear them for long. This means that getting dressed in the morning kind of sucks. I have two pairs of maternity shorts that I still wear even though they are rather large. And two shorts I bought at Marshall's that are now too big of a size so they end up sagging in a most unattractive way within minutes of putting them on, and one pair of shorts that are my current size. That's it. It seems like a lot, but really, when you are wearing shorts every day, having only one pair that actually fits you..... Let's not even talk about shirts. My sister warned me that it would be difficult to find tops that fit across my newly enlarged chest as well as my protruding belly and she was right. I haven't even bought any new shirts, relying instead on the few t-shirts that I own that happen to fit me right now, and the three maternity t shirts that I bought for our February vacation. And the maternity shirts just emphasize the belly. So I try not to wear them if I know I'm going to be out in public.


So far my jeans have been the Test. I figure, when my jeans fit me again, and when I look good in them again, it means I have returned to my post baby size. Because we all know how unforgiving jeans can be. A few weeks ago, I couldn't even get them over my thighs and hips, forget about actually buttoning them. The other day, I tried again. This time, with much wiggling and grunting, I got them all the way on. Granted they are tighter than they ever used to be, and my rear fills them out in a way it never used to, and I couldn't even think about zippering or buttoning them.....but they were on and I'll admit I took some pleasure in that fact. I took even more pleasure in taking them off and putting on my cozy, loose, maternity shorts though.

The point I'm trying to make in the midst of all of this rambling is that it is amazing how clothes can make you feel. How a pair of shorts that actually fit can make you feel almost like yourself again. And the ones that don't can make you feel like a blobby bum. I'm looking forward to the day when I don't feel like a blobby bum....hopefully sooner rather than later!

Firsts

First time in a car seat:

First nap with Daddy:

First time meeting her oldest cousin:

First nap with Mommy:

And one of my favorites--first bath (which she loves).

Addendum

There were a few things I forgot to mention in my last post--things I most definitely want to remember....
I forgot to mention what an amazing birthing coach my husband was. Despite the fact that everyone seemed more worried about him than me before this process began, he was better than I would have even hoped. Supportive and sweet and not in any way irritating, even in the midst of the worst of the pain. He was given specific instructions by me--repeatedly--that he could not do the big sighs that he is famous for, and true to his word, not a single sigh escaped his lips. He cheered me on, held my hand, didn't complain when I practically broke his fingers, fed me ice chips with a shaking hand and was, in general, the amazing man I know and love.

He also gave me not one, not two, but three presents. He had gotten one for each stage of labor, but I went through the stages so quickly that he only ended up giving me one of the gifts prior to birth and the other two after Aliza was already born. The first was this, then this, and finally, this. I know, WOW!

And finally, the last addendum--her name. Russ and I knew, all along, that we wanted a family name. We wanted, ideally, one name from each side of the family. And I knew that I wanted to name her after my Nonnie. Both of us being teachers, there were automatically some names that we would never ever use. So, we both threw names out, back and forth. I honestly don't remember how we came to Aliza--a name from his side of the family. Elizabeth, with a slight twist to make it unique. I do know that at first I thought he was spelling it with an E--Eliza. And it was over February vacation, sitting on a beach, that Russ clarified that he meant Aliza. Once he said that I was sold. We started calling her by her name from then on. And, no, we didn't have a back up. Although I fear that she has been relegated to a life of people spelling or saying her name incorrectly, as it has already happened numerous times. But, for now at least, she shares the same initials as her Mom, which I think is pretty darn cool.

A baby story

It's funny that my last post was about my last day of school....when I wrote it I (obviously) had no idea that in just a few hours I would be meeting my daughter. My plan to spend at least a few days relaxing and doing random house projects rather abruptly ended at midnight on Friday....

I stayed at school late on Friday. I'll admit, I had a hard time leaving. I found myself cleaning and organizing even more, stalling the inevitable saying goodbye and somewhat enjoying the peace and solitude of my classroom....I got home late and was so drained from the day that I fell asleep, on top of the covers, by 9:00. At 12:15 I woke to a weird sensation....it felt like I was going to the bathroom in my pants. Half asleep, I stumbled to the bathroom, confused as to what was going on. I thought for a minute that my water had broken, but recalled a neighbor who told a story about losing control of her bladder near the end of her pregnancy. Since I wasn't experiencing any contractions, I thought that perhaps I was doing the same thing....even started thinking how I could tell this story to family and friends. After changing my clothes, I went downstairs and got Russ, who had fallen asleep on the couch. I told him I thought that maybe my water had broken. I admit, I felt like an idiot. This is one of those things I thought I, as a woman, should just know. He asked me what I meant, how come I wasn't sure...I explained that it felt more like I was peeing my pants than anything and that I wasn't having any contractions. We decided to wait, and we both went upstairs to go to bed. As I stood in my bedroom, mopping up the slight mess I had left, another puddle appeared on the ground. I looked at my husband--mostly asleep on the bed and asked, "See this? What is going on?" I still didn't fully comprehend that my water had broken. Apparently I needed it spelled out for me a little more clearly.....Russ went to sleep while I stuck a towel between my legs and went downstairs to clean the kitchen.

Yes. It's true. I cleaned the kitchen at 12:30, with a towel stuck between my legs. It was while I was scrubbing out the bathroom sink around 1:00 that the thought grew....the thought that this was insane, and what the hell was I doing?!? I woke Russ up again and told him I was going to call the doctor, which I finally did at 1:15. She called me back fifteen minutes later and I explained what had happened. She instructed me to come to the hospital so we both threw on some clothes and headed out. Before I did, I opened the mail. (Clearly I was not in my right mind.) But I did find the pictures my brother had taken the week before of my pregnant belly. Russ and I were still thinking this might be a practice run, so we decided not to call anyone, hating the thought of setting off a false alarm within our respective families.

On the way to the hospital I finally started experiencing my first contractions, but, admittedly, they were not much stronger than the Braxton Hicks I had been experiencing the last several months. We got to the hospital and parked in the wrong place, much like my sister had done when she was in labor. Walking around the block in, yes, the rain, my contractions started to feel stronger and Russ finally started timing them. We went through admissions and it was while in the wheel chair that it finally hit me: I'm having a BABY.

Once we got to the hospital room--now it is around 2:15, we called our respective parents. I assured my mom that there was no need to rush, but she wouldn't hear it and practically hung up in mid-sentence so she could leave--without my Dad because he was at a conference in Ohio and his one instruction when he left was "remember, don't have the baby while I'm away." Russ' parents were in Boston, so they debated about when to come but had initially decided to wait a bit and asked us to call them after the doctor visited. I got changed and hooked up to the monitors and settled in for what I assumed would be a long labor. Contractions were still ten minutes apart and lasting a minute.The doctor came in, and I was happy that it was someone from my practice. She didn't want to examine me because of the GBS, and instead assured me that all looked good based on the read outs and let me know she'd be back in a little while. My mom and sister showed up when the contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I desperately wanted to get out of bed, convinced that I'd feel better if I could sit on the birthing ball. I wasn't allowed to though because I still needed my antibiotics for the GBS. I was supposed to have antibiotics for four hours prior to delivery but the nurses were rather busy that night and assumed that, like all first labors, I'd be there for awhile. Needless to say, they weren't rushing to get to me--although I was in no way neglected. I finally got hooked up to an IV and out of bed. Contractions were now much closer together, about three minutes and lasting only 30 seconds. Right before getting out of bed, in the midst of a contraction, I started feeling a rather strong urge to PUSH. I was sure it was way too soon for such actions and even, in the midst of it all, said no a few times.

Sitting on the ball the feeling came again, even stronger. My sister asked me what was going on and I explained the urge. Thank goodness she was there because she immediately told a nurse, who, with a hint of skepticism, let us know she would tell the doctor. The doctor came in a few contractions later and asked me to get into bed so she could examine me. It was my first examination and upon finishing she looked up and said, "Oh my God." Which I think freaked my husband out just a bit. "You are fully dilated!" According to my sister, the look of utter panic on my face was almost comical and I informed the doctor, rather firmly, that I wanted an epidural. Like NOW. She told me it would be too late and I told her that I REALLY wanted that epidural. Apparently, by the time they even came up to administer it, the baby would be born. No epidural for me. And no time to panic about it because she was coming, drugs or not.

Now things were moving--the bed was transformed, my sister and mom left the room and the real work began. It was about 4:30 in the morning and the doctor gave me directions: tuck in your chin, hold your breath, elbows out and push through the contractions. One quick breath and push again. Being the good student that I am, I followed all of the directions. Again. And again. And again. And Oh. My. God. it hurt like nothing else I've ever experienced. There are no words, truly. But I kept going, and I'll tell you, I'm not sure how I did keep going. I think the only thought I had was that I will soon be meeting my daughter and I tried to hold that in my head through the pain.

Finally the doctor told me to do little pushes to minimize the tearing and even though, at that point, the head was crowning and my urge to push hard to just get her out was so incredibly strong, I again tried to follow directions. Actually, I thought the doctor was crazy to ask me to do little pushes, but, again, I follow directions well. This is when Russ, despite his earlier plans, decided to peek and this is when, after he did peek, I asked him if HE was OK. The nurses laughed at me then and told me that I'm crazy for worrying about him when I'm in the midst of delivery. I also got a mirror so I could see her head, and that might just have been what got me through the rest....knowing that she was so close....

A few contractions later and out she came, 5:51 a.m. Thank God it was a short labor because I honestly don't know if I could have done it without drugs if it were a long one. Did I mention it hurt? It happened so fast that Russ' family, who had decided to leave sooner rather than later, hadn't even made it into CT.

So, here she is, Aliza Maria, 6 lbs 9 oz, 21 inches long. Our little miracle.

Bittersweet

Today is my last day of work....even though our daughter hasn't arrived, my maternity leave officially starts at 3:45 this afternoon.

Interestingly, almost everyone around me keeps asking me if I am excited. I know why of course...at this point in the year teachers are all burnt out and exhausted. Overwhelmed with the assessments we have to give, the end of year goals we have to write, the data we have to enter and analyze for various reports, a room that has to be packed up, the gobs and gobs of money that has to be spent to buy gifts for everyone in creation and the preparations that have to be made now for next year...plus, you know, teaching a group of increasingly rambunctious students who believe that summer started the first warm days we have. The end of the year is a marathon not a sprint, and it is a non-stop one at that. So, I understand why the teachers around me are envious at the thought of me staying home, avoiding the crush of the end of the year and being able to relax instead of run constantly....

And I am excited. After a year of chairing two committees, serving on at least two others, serving as union Vice President, writing Reading Curriculum, taking grad classes, being pregnant and teaching in a rather demanding district, I am excited to just. stop. I am excited for random little projects around the house that I don't get to do in the hustle and bustle of every day life. And of course, I am most excited to meet my daughter for the first time....

But I'm also sad. So sad that I think I've cried more this week then I have throughout my whole pregnancy. (I know, I know, part of that is hormones....) I'm one of those teachers that LOVES to teach. I love the end of the year madness. I love everything about finishing out a year and thinking about next year...because this is when I start to think about next year. When I look at those second graders and wonder which of them will be spending a year of their lives with me. This is when I think about the students I have now and marvel at their growth and laugh about the stories from the year and how each one of them has left a lasting impression on my heart. This is one of the best parts of the year--and one of the best parts of teaching--the saying goodbye while simultaneously saying hello. The reflection on a year well spent, the eager anticipation of a summer vacation to come and the hope that comes with a new batch of students....

I'll be missing out on so much of this....
But I'll also be welcoming our daughter into this world. And I know, without a doubt, that there is no greater miracle, no greater joy, than that....so it is with bittersweet, and mixed, emotions that I start, and end, my last day....

And the winner is....

Throughout my pregnancy I have had numerous interesting, and, at times, insulting comments made....however, I feel taht this one wins the grand prize. The Gold Star. The Comments to End All Comments. Here's how the conversation went:

S (a colleague): When is your due date again?

Me: June 6th, your dog's birthday. (This may seem odd that I said this but keep in mind that every time the woman asks me my due date she then tells me that it is her dog's birthday and then launches into a story about her dog that usually lasts a good ten minutes. This time I figured I'd cut her off a bit....)

S: Oh, I can't believe you remember that, it must have been horribly insulting that I said that to you!

Me: No, no, not at all....

S: Well, my dog IS rather adorable, and if your baby is half as cute as my dog then you will be very lucky....

I am not making this up.
She *actually* told me that I will be lucky if my DAUGHTER is HALF as cute as her DOG.

Showers!

Last Friday, at school, my team threw me a baby shower. Once again, I got amazingly generous gifts from the women that I work with. Once again, I marveled at how *everyone* takes such joy in a baby. I have had women who don't talk to me all that often, stop by my room to give me a hug and tell me how excited they are for me. Paras and interns give me gifts when we've exchanged only the casual hello as we pass in the hallway. And the women who are more recent moms give me the practical (but often more expensive!) gifts that they just know I'll need. And everyone, from the custodian to the kitchen staff, the teachers to the interns, stops often to ask how I'm doing, how I feel and if I'm ready. I know I've said it before, more than once even, but I am so incredibly blessed.

Miracles

I believe that miracles are all around us.....in a thousand and one tiny ways they are happening. If you are lucky, then you get to witness a Big Miracle. The kind that leaves you crying in disbelief. That makes you realize that there is just no. other. explanation. Other than a miracle that is.

I have now experienced two of these Big Miracles in my life. The first was witnessing the birth of my second niece. If you've ever been blessed enough to witness a delivery then you know what I mean when I say that there is nothing so Miraculous as the birth of a child. One minute she was someone we dreamed and wondered and hoped and prayed for and the next she was in this world, waving her hands and crying and already developing her own unique personality. I remember thinking, as I stood there watching my niece take her very first breath in this world, "how can anyone NOT believe in some kind of a God when faced with the birth of a child?"

Most recently I experienced another miracle. Russ' aunt recently had a brain aneurysm. Or rather, a "nest" in her brain that began to bleed out. And did so rather rapidly, so that in mere hours half of her brain was filled with blood. The outlook, at first, was grim. Say your goodbyes the doctors counseled, as they wheeled her into surgery. Next, the words, "well, she made it through surgery, but we have no idea how much of Her will be there, or what the damage will be." Next, "her vision and speech may be impaired, we are going to keep her in a medically induced coma for a few days." And finally, a mere 24 hours later, "she's going to take a nap, then we are going to get her out of bed and walking around." Even the nurse admitted that she had never seen such an amazing recovery. We drove up to see her and I swear, you would never have known (aside from the shaved head and bandages) that the woman had brain surgery less than 24 hours earlier. She was sitting up, her color was good, her eyes were clear and she was talking and joking. Joking!

Here's the thing- everything, and I do mean everything, conspired to make the worst possible situation into the best possible situation. She happened to be in Boston when her symptoms became alarming enough to warrant a 911 call. Surrounded by family, with a trained nurse by her side. She was rushed to Mass General, and a doctor there had the smarts to get her into surgery within 30 minutes of her arrival. She was also operated on by the head of neurosurgery. If any one of those things didn't happen as they did, the chances are strong that she would not be with us today....or she would not be the woman that we know and love. She is a walking miracle. A testament to the fact that there are some things in this world that just don't make sense. Yeah, you can argue science, medicine, technology even, saved her. But for me....I believe there was someone watching out that day. Someone who saved her life.

Telling it like it is

I recently read the book Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy. A few people had mentioned it to me, I was in Target and saw it, so I bought it. I think I was laughing out loud in the middle of the mall by page five. Seriously. The woman is funny. And frank. I have a feeling I will know more about her than I would want to, but I gotta say, I love her honesty and the fact that she is REAL. (The book, in case you don't know, and why would you if you haven't read it, is about being pregnant and giving birth.)

This post has been percolating in my head for awhile now.....ever since the holidays in fact when my mom and my brother were trying to get my sister to say if she was going to have another baby. My sister responded, "I don't want to be pregnant again." To which my mom said, "Your pregnancies weren't that bad." To which my sister (rather cleverly I might add) replied, "They were uncomfortable." I decided that was it really--that word just describes it all.

(Let me interrupt this regularly scheduled commentary to mention that this is by no means a venting post. Being pregnant is a glorious miracle that I am thankful for every day. Don't let anything I say here detract from that....)

But, my sister nailed it--even with an easy pregnancy, and let's be for real for a moment, although it took awhile to get here, my pregnancy has been relatively easy without major complications (another reason to be thankful). However, it is UNCOMFORTABLE.

Let's break it down (or at least start to) a la Jenny McCarthy:
Barf-o-Rama a.k.a. Morning sickness:

Clearly the person who named it morning sickness was a man, trying to trick all women into thinking you would only be sick in the morning. What a cruel, cruel joke. Morning sickness happens. But so does mid morning sickness. And lunch time sickness. And afternoon sickness. And dinner time sickness. And even middle of the night for no apparent reason sickness. Another untruth (at least for me): it goes away once the baby starts moving, or you hit your second trimester. I've had periods, days in fact, without throwing up. But if I had to count, I think that in 34 weeks of pregnancy, I've had maybe five weeks where I didn't throw up at least once-and probably several times. (And one of those weeks was the week we first found out I was pregnant.) Throwing up was the thing I hated the most even before I was pregnant. You can imagine my feelings on it now--needless to say I'm tired of it and ready for it to stop.

Snorting, snifing, sneezing a.k.a. stuffy nose:

OK, this may not sound like much to you, but imagine having a permanantly stuffy nose. I mean you wake up in the morning and you are stuffy. You go about your day and you are stuffy, you lie down at night and have to wait until your nose clears enough so you can actually breath through it. Not the biggest of deals, admittedly, but I'm thinking I should have bought stock in Puffs before I got pregnant. Between blowing my nose, wiping my watery eyes after throwing up and going through gobs of tissues when I get a bloody nose....let's just say we have gone through several boxes.....

A-A-A-cho! Get me a tissue I'm bleeding! a.k.a. bloody noses:

As I alluded to above, bloody noses are also a glorious side effect of pregnancy. Who knew, right? I've never had one before being pregnant and well, I hope I never have one again. Not the biggest of deals, again, but still, one of those minor inconveniences in life that you'd just rather not have. The worst is never knowing when I sneeze if it will turn into a bloody nose or not. Like I said, I should have bought stock in Puffs.

Get the heck out of the way, I need to pee! a.k.a. frequent pee breaks:

Really, there's nothing to say about this other than the fact that it's amazing how much you really do have to go to the bathroom. Now that I'm in my third trimester I literally get up every 1.5-2 hours at night just to go to the bathroom. Good training for when the baby comes and I'm nursing, not so much fun now when all you desperately want is a decent night's sleep. During the day, my kids are so used to me sneaking out of the classroom to run down the hall they don't even bat an eye. I don't even ask the teacher next door to keep an eye or an ear out because I do it so often!

Flopping and wrestling a.k.a. sleepless nights:

I can't remember the last time I slept for a full eight hours. I have decided that the reason you are so exhausted during pregnancy is not only because you are creating a human and every single body part is shifting or shrinking or stretching while working harder than it ever has before, but also because you just. don't. sleep. Early on in your pregnancy you learn that you aren't supposed to sleep on your back, because of decreased blood flow to the baby. You can't sleep on your belly, for fear of squishing the baby (and, of course, because your belly simply gets too large). Which leaves your side. If you are a side sleeper this is not a problem. I am not a side sleeper and never have been. Largely due to the fact that I already have a minor case of scoliosis (my back is curved funky) in both my upper and lower spine as well as a permanent disability rating in my back courtesy of an idiotic woman who rammed into my car from behind several years ago. What this means for me is that sleeping on my side HURTS. A lot. So, I wake up often, to roll from one side to the other. Except, because I sleep with a body pillow (which, incidentally, doesn't really do any good other than to support my belly a bit) is more like a wrestling match than a roll. Sometimes, through no fault of my own, I wake up on my back, and then I lay awake for hours on end, waiting for baby girl to kick so I know she's OK. The first few times this happened I panicked and cried....now I just stay awake until she moves, which often takes awhile because she's sleeping too.... I try to time my wrestling matches with my bathroom breaks, but it doesn't always work that way. So, for me to be up every hour either rolling or peeing is about typical. Needless to say, I'm exhausted. Sleep? What's that? (The funniest part about this is that I feel as if, throughout my entire pregnancy really, people keep telling my HUSBAND he looks tired. Or, my husband tells me how tired he is. I continue to be my usual sympathetic self, the man does work hard after all, but I'm waiting for the day when I lose it and remind him that he is tired because he stays up late playing video games while I am tired because I'm carrying around our daughter!)

Carrying the weight of the world....on your back a.k.a. back pain:

It doesn't start your third trimester, as people will tell you. It starts sooner than that. For me, it started when I started sleeping on my side. Although during the day it wouldn't be that bad, or I wouldn't be aware of it as much, when you wake up with a sore back, you pretty much walk around with one all day long. It does seem to be getting worse now that I'm in my third trimester though, so everyone was right about that much.....

Big Boobs:

This is one of those be careful what you wish for stories! Throughout most of my adolescent and even college years, I wished my boobs would be just a bit bigger. Now that they are, I seriously don't know how women with large boobs do it. They just get in the way! While I enjoy having cleavage for the first time in my life (and I won't tell you what Russ thinks of them) I'm ready to go back to my normal size. Which, I know, won't happen for awhile.....

Will someone please remove the red hot spike from my calf? a.k.a. leg cramps

This is something else I had never experienced before pregnancy. Sure, I had the occasional charlie horse, but nothing compared to the leg cramps that you get while pregnant. For me, they usually happen at night (of course they do!) or in the early morning when I attempt to stretch. (As an aside- you know that stretch you do when you first wake up? Arms overhead, legs stretched, toes pointed, your entire body just s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g? Yeah, I haven't done one of those in AGES. You just can't.) Anyway, leg cramps- they really do feel like someone is driving a red hot spike into your calf. You can't do anything while your entire leg just tenses uncontrollably except grasp it tightly and try not to cry out. Usually when I have one of these I'm awake for awhile afterwards (like I said, sleep? what's that?) and then my leg will be sore for literally days after.


I need a ______ RIGHT NOW! a.k.a. cravings (or aversions)

Truthfully, I haven't had many of these. Russ has really gotten off easy I think. No late night runs to Dairy Queen for him! But every now and again we'll be driving along, and I want something. Most recently, when we were registering, I wanted Strawberry Lemonade that they serve at Chili's. Now, I would have been fine if I didn't have it. But I really really really wanted Strawberry Lemonade. And I needed it too, right away. (Yes, I got one.) I've heard stories though of women who eat buckets of mushrooms, or vegetarians who become meat eaters because they must have steak....can't say I've really experienced any of that. Although, come to think of it, I have really wanted a turkey sandwich. No idea why, probably because I can't eat it. Nor have I had any aversions. Food commercials used to make me sick my first trimester, but then again, everything made me sick my first trimester. But there isn't one food that I really can't eat or don't like. Maybe that's the silver lining to all the throwing up?

Heartburn/Nausea:

I have nothing creative or clever to say about either one of these. They stink. And they are also rather permanent-at least for me- and even more so during my third trimester. I swear, between throwing up and alternating between heartburn and nausea it's amazing I've gained as much weight as I have!

There are a thousand and one other little tidbits about pregnancy that make it rather uncomfortable--like the bloodwork you have to go through, or the sugary drinks you have to drink for your gestational diabetes test, or the fact that your entire body just doesn't really feel like your own anymore, or the fact that as you get bigger you get so unwieldy that simple things like tying your shoes are impossible, and standing up becomes difficult....but for now, this list covers some of the basics.

Here's something I know--or at least I think I know--women who have been pregnant don't tell you about any of these discomforts. At least, not until you are pregnant yourself, then the stories come out! Why is that? I am convinced it is for two reasons: all of these discomforts are nothing compared to actual child birth and secondly (and perhaps most importantly!), I suspect that the moment I meet my daughter for the first time and look into her eyes and feel her little hand wrap around my pinky....I suspect that all of these minor discomforts will just fly right out of my head.

Onesies and strollers and bibs, oh my!

This past weekend I had my first baby shower--thrown for me by my amazing sister-in-law and wonderful mother-in-law: It was so much fun to meet many of the women that I have heard stories about through the years of being in this family, and, of course, to reconnect with the family members I already knew and loved. Everyone--from those I was meeting for the first time, to those I have known for the past four years--was so excited about the birth of our baby girl. It is truly amazing how a baby brings such joy to so many!
The shower itself was absolutely wonderful....held in my mother in law's house, catered with some delicious food, and some really neat touches to make it personal. Everyone got to sign a large rock, that is going to go into my vegetable garden, and they also got to create bibs for our little girl! My one request was that I not get stared at TOO much and my sister in law, very sweetly, organized some fun games for the guest to play while I opened the presents. Oh, and everyone was asked to bring a book for baby girl and I got SO many good ones, with very few repeats! Russ and I have already started reading her bedtime stories, in eager anticipation of the nights when we get to snuggle her in our arms while reading to her. Plus, I love that her bookshelf is now considerably fuller than it once was!
We also got some amazingly generous gifts, including the pack and play, stroller and both the infant and the toddler car seat! The pack and play and stroller already sits, assembled and ready to go, in our living room. And Russ eagerly installed the car seat base into his car....We also got a lot of clothes for baby girl. I think she has more than me already!!! And I, of course, spent Sunday washing, sorting and folding....all in all, it was a wonderful day, filled with sunshine, family, happiness and love....
Mom S. and Beth--thank you so much for being the amazing family that you are, and for blessing me with so much love that my heart swells. I am beyond lucky to have married a wonderful man, and to have been welcomed into his wonderful family!

Baby's room

Russ and I spent the week of our vacation engaging in some serious getting-ready-for-baby activities. Her room is now, 98% done. All it is missing is a standing lamp to put behind the chair, some cute baskets for the shelving unit above the changing table and some fun pictures. I have to say that Russ did most of the work-since it was construction-type things, like changing the light fixtures, assembling furniture, hanging black out shades etc. My work will come once I have my baby showers-then it will be time for sorting, and washing and folding....But for now, here are some pictures of her room:

This is our second piece of baby furniture. My mom and dad actually bought it for us ages ago, all we need now is the mattress that goes on top to make it a changing table.

The unit above it Russ assembled and hung, all it needs now is some baskets to hold stuff.

Her book case, that I'm hoping will soon be filled with even more bedtime stories:

And the chair, that was the hardest thing to find believe it or not....I knew exactly what I wanted and was willing to wait to find it. Russ, on the other hand, was getting rather nervous every time he heard "6-8 weeks for delivery of furniture that you order" what with her arrival falling right within that time period. We finally did find it, and it got delivered over break. I know I'm getting at least one special blanket that I will drape over this chair. (Did I mention that it rocks and reclines?!?)

Her room: (note the blackout shades behind the curtains!)

Here are some close ups of the curtains, her bedding and her light switch:

Blast from the past

Everyone has that one person. You know what I'm talking about--the one person that once upon a time you were madly in love with. That one person who you thought you were meant to be with. That one person who, even after he/she broke your heart became the standard you compared every other relationship to. That one person.

Recently mine appeared in my life after an almost five year absence.

Our last conversation--on the phone when he was still in town--was tear filled and emotional. Something along the lines of him telling me he loved me and could imagine a life and a home and even children and pets with me but could never, ever marry me, and me wondering how in the world that made any sense at all. I remember he wanted to see me after that conversation and I just couldn't do it. What do you say to the man that just tore out your heart? I thought it best for me to let him drive off so that I could get on with the business of getting over him. I still think that was the right decision....

It took awhile for me to move on. I dated others, and compared them all to him. If I could say that if he walked back into my life I'd leave my current boyfriend, then I knew that current boyfriend wasn't the one for me. Is that horrible? Maybe it was, but there it is, the raw truth.

So, now he is back in town-for now at least. Married with a child, although his wife is not really in the picture. I knew I'd run into him eventually--he is, after all, friends with my brother in law and currently working on their house. I wondered what it would be like to see him. If there would be some dramatic emotional meeting, where he apologized to me for being a jerk, told me he made the wrong choice all those years ago.....where I could tell him that hindsight has given me 20/20 vision and I could see clearly now that we were not, after all, meant to be together. That me being the me I am, and he being who he is, would never have really worked out, even though I still believe I could have been good for him--brought some stability to his world that is still so out there and confused. But it never would have been the partnership that marriage is meant to be, and ultimately, it never would have lasted.

Well, I saw him again for the first time a couple of weeks ago. And twice since then. I'll admit that seeing him for the first time in nearly five years felt like a punch in the stomach, and, quite literally, took my breath away. But there was no tearful reunion. In fact, there was barely an acknowledgement of my existence. He studiously avoided making eye contact and didn't even really greet me. Rather anti-climactic actually. The two other times since then have been similar to that first meeting. I once sat down next to him, to at least engage him in some sort of conversation, and it felt.....awkward. Odd. We chit chatted about trivial things while I sat there and wondered how our conversations got reduced to the weather and little girl clothes when, even from the beginning of our relationship, we never talked about minor things....And I looked across the room at my husband and thanked God then and there for not letting me marry this man who I barely recognized as the guy I once thought I loved. For instead bringing me a man who loves me for me and who loved me enough to ask that big question that has entwined our lives for eternity. I don't need closure. I found it myself, a long time ago.

Blessings

Last week was a shitty week.
Sorry for the language (guess my blog isn't G rated anymore!) but no other word will suffice.
I'm not going to rehash it here-first of all because who wants to read about a really horrible week? It will just bring you down. Secondly, because it was rough enough the first time around and frankly, I don't want to relive it. Suffice it to say by Friday morning I was barely holding it together, and, in fact, did actually start crying on the phone to a friend as he tried to direct me to the place where I was to get yet more blood work done and then continued to cry (mortifying!) when I actually arrived at said location. (Luckily the woman blamed it on hormones.....which I'm sure did in fact play a large part!)


But the week is over.....and I came out of it with one clear thought: I am so blessed.

I try to be that person that is always aware of just how lucky she is. But I'll admit that I, like so many others, get caught up in the minutiae of life. There is nothing like a horrible, incomprehensible tragedy to make you realize just how lucky you are....
Let me start with the first, and most exciting blessing in my world right now: our baby. We are seven weeks away from her arrival and she is becoming more and more of a reality. While I am beginning to get a bit more nervous about labor (although my fears seem to center-at the moment- around my water breaking at school and also not being able to find Russ when I actually do go into labor), mostly I find myself so excited at the thought of finally meeting her. I can't wait to stare into her eyes, and smell the smell that is uniquely her and feel her tiny fingers wrap around mine. She truly is a miracle.

My second blessing is my husband. Have I told you lately, dear Internet world, just how amazing he is? When I first met him, I knew, very quickly, that he was The One. I had absolutely no doubts at all that this was the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Somewhere along the way he also became my best friend. And then, my soul mate. As we go on this new journey together, preparing for baby, having endless conversations about what she'll be like, discussing how we want to raise her...I just couldn't do it without him and I couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else.

My next blessings are my family. If you know my family at all then you know just how generous, kind, funny, supportive, loving, intelligent, hard working, dedicated and wonderful they are. I am lucky to have TWO families that are all of those things and more. My life is richer for having them in it and I consider myself the luckiest sister, daughter, daughter in law and sister in law.....

There are many more blessings in my life that I could share with you--great friends that support me in all that I do and are always there to listen, a job I love in a district that is amazing, a home that is cozy and perfect for us, an amazing world that is just starting to vine and green and bloom and sprout bringing with it the promises of a new spring....like I said, I am so blessed.

You could almost smell the desperation coming from them

This past Saturday I was invited, by the Director of Human Resources for our district, to attend a job fair that is held in our town. It is actually a job fair for the entire county that I work in, held in the very middle school my husband teaches in.

The last time I was at this job fair was when I myself attended, and landed an interview with the principal that would eventually end up hiring me. My memories of that event are hazy at best, colored by my nervousness and the desperate need to procure a job.


Well, attending it now, as a veteran teacher pursuing her administrative degree, was a whole different experience. First of all, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people (mostly women) that were there. For the five and a half hours that I was there, the middle school gym was, quite literally, packed. Secondly, they all looked the same. Black suits, pantyhose, heels, hair combed, make up on, resume or briefcase in hand. I did see one woman in jeans and one man in a track suit. They were turned away rather quickly from almost every table they went to. If you can't take the time to look a little nice, then why should a district take the time to interview you? Finally, they all seemed so....well, desperate. Trying so hard to make themselves stand out, to say just the right thing that would get them past the first hurdle (a screening interview) and upstairs to the second (an interview with a principal, or headmaster, or director of curriculum). Which, of course, would lead them to another, larger, hurdle: an interview with a specific principal of a building for a specific teaching spot. It was an uphill battle for many of the people seeking jobs, and hence, their desperation.


The district I work in has no trouble attracting candidates. Especially for elementary education. In fact, we were clearly instructed to turn away any candidate at the elementary level who did not possess teaching experience (most of them didn't, other than their student teaching of course), unless they stood out as "stellar". Rather than permitting them an interview, we took their resumes, shook their hands and threw their papers in a box. A rather large box. I couldn't help but wonder how in the world I managed to get a job. I also decided that it was such a large responsibility to control the fate of these people. To know that their chances of making it upstairs were practically nonexistent. And then making it past the interview upstairs was also virtually impossible. I wanted to tell all of those people standing in line to choose another district because they weren't going to go past those gym doors in ours. But how do you crush the hope of someone so desperate?

Baby belly

Here it is: 30 weeks today.....ten more to go!