I wish titles were automatically-generated sometimes

I really am aiming not to talk too much about being pregnant, since there are few things more dull than other people’s bodily musings, plus, should all go well, this topic should drag on rather quite a while, but I am beyond exhausted. And also irritated and baffled that I am–is it possible?–starting to show at five weeks. Yesterday I went to take a “before” picture and realized that I was too late. The internet says this means I am: eating too much; gassy; having multiples (!); crazy; or just plain not pregnant for the first time. I don’t even know which one to wish for. I did show really early with Little Girl (like ten weeks) so I guess it’s possible, and I am short-waisted, but it still seems a bit ridiculous to me. Like my maternity clothes and other reproductive paraphernalia I loaned out, I haven’t gotten my pregnancy books back, but I think in the part where they compare the embryo to an item of food, it couldn’t be bigger than a sesame seed.

Anyway, in Husband’s continued absence we have been doing extremely well. Little Girl has worn panties four days in a row without incident, we have eaten nutritiously, the floors are mopped, we haven’t been lonely or bored, I cleaned out the attic and raked up all the leaves, and I am preparing for the end of the term of teaching (two months long at my university). Friday we’re off to care for my grandparents (I don’t even know what to think about the fact that my grandmother needs diapers more than my two-year-old) and Husband gets back Saturday, at which point he sweetly but stupidly plans to drive several hours to where we will be, not wanting to spend any more time away than necessary. Aww. But get some rest, dude. You know you’re not gonna sleep on that plane.

Blog as diary

Facebook: I don’t get it. I am trying, but no. My interest in acquaintances’ quotidian activities is evidently extremely small. And my students keep trying to add me as a friend, which I do not think I want. Also, I think that’s kind of weird. I would never try to befriend my professors online. Guess I’m old.

Sooo…I have realized that my husband is in Paris on Valentine’s Day, and I am not. Hrm. He sent flowers and chocolate in the mail, which was nice, but I’d rather be included in the cameraphone pics he keeps sending us of his head in front of a variety of Parisian hallmarks. And I did not know this, but he is scared of heights, so he isn’t going to the top of the Eiffel Tower or anything. And he has a super-awesome telephoto lens with him! I feel a very wifely sort of irritation about this, but it’s his trip. Sometimes it’s nice to be able to do whatever you want. But still! The top of the Eiffel Tower is fantastic! You can see everything!

I’m not enjoying the horseback riding as much now. You really gotta be ballsy to get a lot out of it, and now with my, you know, new status, I’m just not. I guess it’s better to want to stop than have to stop.

Courtesy of what I remember from being pregnant with Little Girl as a lax immune system during gestation, I have a cold. My parenting is like 75% worse when I am sick. But she’s being sweet. She misses her daddy, though. We had that SAHD over for a playdate this week (fun, kind of like hanging out with my husband–we talked about potty training and hardwood flooring) and Little Girl kept hugging his knees, and then informing him that HER daddy was in BELGIUM for WORK on an AIRPLANE! Emphatic.

If you use Bloglines (as I do) please be aware that it can take sometimes 12, sometimes 24 hours for it to notice I have a new post. Honestly this keeps me posting as much as I otherwise would because a) I like to have my posts spaced a day apart or so at least, and b) if I have some more immediate issue, it’s frustrating to have to wait a day to get feedback, so sometimes I’ll just not bother. Apparently this is a known problem about some WordPress sites but they just don’t care to fix it. Oh well.

Overmuch. Oh, and Paris.

With Husband away I’ve been trying to keep us nice and busy and I think I’ve overdone it. Every day we’ve had something like three or four major activities.

Monday: Hosted craft playgroup for my mothers’ group, playdate at park, store
Tuesday: Worked, restaurant, playdate, first-time visitor free Gymboree class (eh)
Wednesday: Playdate, insanely long conference call, horseback riding, store
Thursday: Playdate, work, performance review meeting with boss (good)

I mean, really. And every night I work for several hours. I guess the workouts on the horse (and maybe being still, as far as I know, pregnant) are also tiring me out a bunch, and I am putting a huge amount of effort into my diet, and I am a bit overwhelmed. Tomorrow we have only one thing on the calendar (horse) and nothing at all concrete for the weekend, and so maybe I can get some laundry done as well as some important sitting around.

+++

Hey, Husband will be spending the weekend in Paris. I am beyond jealous. I have my own suggestions for where he should go but I’ve only been there once for 36 hours (though I absolutely made the most of them) and am no expert. Any tips on Paris? He wants to see the highlights and do some photography. Below the cut are my own notes on Paris I sent him.

Incipiency

Thanks to everyone for your comments on my last post! I am feeling much more at peace with the current state of affairs (though I wouldn’t go so far as to say I am actively looking forward to much of the specifics), and Husband, well, he left for Europe for two weeks yesterday, so I don’t actually know too well how he is, but I assume he is working it through in his pessimistic-and-alarmingly-stressed-about-providing-for-his-family-but-fundamentally-decent-man kind of way. I have to admit I am quietly pleased to discover my body doing something easily.

It’s lonely all by myself here at night, but I am happy to report I am managing to feed us actual meals at respectable intervals, and currently am working on a broccoli soup recipe from the Times. I had to get Evenshine to convert quarts to cups for me, but it smells good. I had intended a high-protein vegan organic pregnancy diet (to ward off preeclampsia) so, uh, we’ll see how that works out (don’t recall where I got the idea for this, but it’s not like that’s an unhealthy way to eat anyway–of course then there’s the stage where I can only, and barely, keep down fake mashed potatoes to look forward to). I took it upon myself to change Little Girl’s bedtime procedure (from needing someone to sit by her crib until she conks out to not needing someone) and it was absolutely no big deal. A friend gave me a bag of starter for Amish Friendship bread, though I’m dubious about its Amishness, since instant pudding is part of the recipe.

The lady I’m leasing the horse from was absolutely cool about things, and even said she hadn’t cashed the check for February, so I could get out of it now (instead of at the end of the month), and that’s what I’m thinking over. Should the pregnancy not continue, I would certainly like to keep it up. The risk of being thrown or kicked is very small, considering the kind of riding I am doing, but horseback riding is an optional risk whereas, say, breathing possibly polluted air is not. Parenting is always a balance between your needs and those of your offspring; is having time alone for a few weeks, getting exercise, indulging myself before what, in my experience, are months and months of unpleasantness a worthwhile trade for a slightly increased risk to an embryo? And the worry begins.

The results are in

And they are positive. Astoundingly.

(Do you realize it took me two and a half years to get pregnant before?)

And if we are still working on getting ourselves in a totally positive place about it, I’m confident we’ll get there. Uh, kinda confident.

Crazy internet lady

I am pretty sure I am coming off here like an indecisive and irresponsible and overanxious weirdo. I am coming off that way to myself, anyway. What the fuck was I thinking, deciding to try to get pregnant? Seriously, I’ve gone back over and over my post about it and even so I can’t figure it out. None of the reasons I cited seems reasonable now in the light of, well, reality. What the hell was my problem? Things are great! Things are in upheaval! What was I thinking?

And you’re probably wondering to yourself, “Why don’t you just test already and get it over with? Sheesh, lady.” I hear ya. But I’d rather not be pregnant and not know than be pregnant and know. And I’m still within my range of regular cycle lengths, if slightly above average. I hold out hope this lark of absurdity of TTC and its attendant worries and anxiousness and berating myself half the night and obsessively cataloging my body for symptoms will end up nothing more than a reminder to keep a regular supply of spermicide around in the future. Here’s hoping it is possible to will one’s period into being.

PS: If I am pregnant I do recognize things could possibly turn out okay. The anti-fantasies of spontaneously conceiving triplets and having to work full time and getting preeclampsia and ruining my chances of going to Italy and going on bedrest for six months and dying and not having insurance etc. etc. are probably not realistic. Doesn’t mean I am not baffled as to why I decided to risk it.

Timing is everything (updated)

Friday, when we were at the beach, Husband kept getting emails from work. One, two, three, finally five people were laid off that single day. It’s not a big office. Other layoffs came. Then they announced a significant pay cut. Every day husband comes home with more tales of how the company is sinking, and every day this week I have wondered if today will be the day he comes home too early. He’s started looking for a new job, but you know how that is.

You can imagine how delighted I am that I went ahead and leased that horse, and that I still don’t know for sure about being pregnant (I’m 13 dpo). Certainly neither of those things is something you want when the primary breadwinner isn’t. (Though the lease should be easy to get out of–it’s essentially month-to-month). Husband is, well, we’ll just say, now very eager for me to get my period. I feel similarly. (I also would have appreciated it if Husband had shared with me his concerns about his position before he agreed to try, but he didn’t know how bad things would get, of course, and I was a bit blind to reason when I decided to embark on this one-month trial, anyway). Mistakes were made.

We’ve talked about my going back to work full time, mostly for the benefits, and Husband’s staying home with Little Girl. I ran the numbers, and even if I took more research job hours, and taught more, and totally filled my schedule this way, if I even could, I’d still be making something like just a third of what Husband makes. Or did make, before the big pay cut. Plus, I don’t actually want to work full time, but you gotta do what you gotta do. It’s not dire for us, even if he’s laid off–we did save up money for the move to Sweden that keeps not happening–but I get nervous if at least someone isn’t working full time. It’s nice to have the mental space to be able to do little classes and activities without worry.

As for me, today I’m having a particularly bad work day myself (and it’s not even 9 AM!)–in both jobs. Guess that’s what I get for having two. Just bad timing all around.

Updated: Hah, get this. Husband’s work cheaped out on this year’s health insurance, and my OB and hospital aren’t covered, he found out today. My work stuff got better, though.

Let’s travel back in time

I originally wrote this on January 14th and then got squeamish about posting. I still don’t quite know the, uh, resolution, though I have my suspicions, but I’ll bring you up to date over the next week.

After what I will circumspectly (and inaccurately) describe as a lot of “discussion” and “contemplation” I think Husband and I are now ready to try for another baby. Wow, right?

Just in January, though. After that we’re back to contraception.

Why yes, I understand this is a strange plan. Basically, what happened is that I have gotten all freaked out about the idea of waiting to have another in Sweden, away from my mom and friends and what I know, not to mention my baby accessories, and decided I’d rather have a baby here, even though I still don’t actively want pregnancy or, um, babies. Mostly I’m worried that time will pass and one day it will be too late in all kinds of ways.

But I don’t want to be pregnant or have a newborn while we are moving, which means I have to have a baby in the fall, which means I have to get pregnant before March, and since Husband will be abroad for work most of February, that means I need to get pregnant in January, which, as you may be aware, is going on right now.

If this thing doesn’t pan out, which it probably won’t, given my reproductive history and the fact that we are giving it only one month, I am definitely going to lease that horse. Win win! (I know this sounds flippant. It will, of course, be a big deal either way. It just all feels a fiction at the moment.)

Blogging

Three years ago this week this blog began (along with my pregnancy). A little more than two years ago I made it public. At first it was a private, infrequently-updated, boring-ass, pregnancy journal. Then a repository of milk pumping info and angst. Now it’s, uh, well, just a general, all-purpose blog, I guess.

Why do I do it? I’m not sure why I started–I wasn’t even reading blogs at the time besides a few infertility ones–but I’ve found it’s good for me in a few ways:

a) writing forces me to think through my thoughts, assumptions, feelings, experiences, leading to all kinds of discoveries–it’s like free therapy!
b) the community; the more people I have contact with, the better I fare; I don’t (just) mean the comments, but also reading others’ blogs. I have loved getting to know people through blogging.
c) I get to tell family members that, indeed, I am writing, when they bug me to write
d) I take note of facets of Little Girl that otherwise might be lost as she changes

I could do most of this without an actual blog–just with a journal–but since, until blogging, I never did anything like that, apparently I couldn’t just get these effects from journaling. Maybe it’s a sign of the times, the desire for an audience to produce, or maybe it’s just easier to get the fix of readership through blogging than through prior media, and all the diarists of old would have tried this if they could. I don’t know. But I’m extremely grateful to have this blog as part of my life, and it would literally not exist if it were not for my readers. So thank you!

(P.S.: National Delurking Week has historically been a bust for me, but if you’d like to say hi, I’d be delighted. Seriously delighted. If you don’t have a blog you don’t know how it is, but it’s extremely gratifying to have a give-and-take with readers. I know you are out there! I have statistics!)

Hmm

I seem to be depressed. It’s been a while, so it took some time for me to figure it out, but it’s there.

I think it dates back to last month’s super-exciting 6-days-late-for-my-period extravaganza. My standard deviation in cycle length is a mere 2.3 days, so by the end of the wait, I was thinking there I was either pregnant or something was wrong with me, and I wasn’t entirely sure a pregnancy would not be preferable. But I was relieved when my period came.

Sure, Little Girl would have been three years by then, which is my own personal absolute minimum child-spacing target, but neither Husband nor I have felt interested in going through another unpleasant-and-debilitating-and-occasionally-dangerous pregnancy, followed by the sheer horrifying misery of newborns and their twin terror, breastfeeding. I make ugly faces just thinking about it. I feel sorry for, if not superior to, pregnant ladies chasing toddlers. I am happy to hand drooling, squawking babies back. I get bored with sleeping newborns. Plus, I didn’t even find trying to conceive enjoyable, since it took years and years and help from a reproductive endocrinologist, though I suspect it would be easier now. I love my baby-free lifestyle with Husband and Little Girl. Basically I’m not in what I imagine to be the proper mental condition necessary to get through another reproductive attempt with anything approaching good cheer and tolerance for the difficulties and worries involved.

Which is why I am confused as to why I am moping around, pressing Husband into intense little conversations about our Future Plans. What I’d really like is for both of us to want, genuinely, a new baby; to get pregnant easily; to have a totally easy and worry-free pregnancy; a pleasant-enough birth; a trouble-free or at least guilt-free breastfeeding experience; and a child that easily and sleepily fits into our lives, all at the most convenient time and location. But apparently Husband doesn’t want to try until we are at least settled in Sweden (years from now in the current economy), if at all (perhaps you are unaware that the sun rises and sets with Little Girl, thus eliminating the need for future progeny). And since I still don’t actively desire another person to care for making me ill from inside my uterus, I’m not arguing with him on this.

Yet at the same time, if we’re going to make a go of it, I’d rather do it in the US, I think. I don’t love a lot about our birthing system, but at least I understand it. My mom is here. My friends. I’m way less likely to suffer depression afterwards. And as materialistic as it is, my baby crap is here. I don’t want to get rid of it all and then have to buy it for 300% more in Sweden. And if we’re going to do it here, the window of opportunity is closing, since I definitely don’t want to be pregnant/newborning while trying to move abroad.

But I’m not sure these are reasons to try for a baby. I just feel so uncertain. So in the absence of a plan that sits comfortably with me, with us–not just with any possible babies, but with our move in general, a topic I am sick of already–I’m muddling, and it’s been getting me down.

Onions for everyone!

My father-in-law has been selling 25 pound bags of Vidalia onions for charity. (I don’t know what charity.) We bought bags for all our friends (I’m pretty sure they were not grateful) and of course one for ourselves.

Wow, that is a lot of onions. I have been putting them in everything for WEEKS and still we have a third of a bag left. Jambalaya, stir fries, stews, sauteed, with mushrooms. You can even just pop them in the microwave and have them plain they are so sweet.

There’s a type of seasoning salt called grillkrydda from Sweden that we put on almost everything we eat. I sure hope there’s nothing unhealthy in it because I can’t read the label but I assume since it’s Swedish it’s pretty good for you. Anyway, grillkrydda goes great with Vidalia onions (and sweet potato fries!)

There are various foods we love that we can only get in Sweden. There’s this fabulous sweet mustard; all kinds of licorice products (they are crazy for licorice in Sweden, which is fine by me); dill potato chips; the sweetest butter in the world; cheeses and breads and sausages galore; tasty, tasty ham. My husband also always eats horse while we are there just to piss me off. Also, he always goes in the sauna and cranks it as high as he can and tries to take a picture of the thermostat even in the steam to prove to people he can withstand the high temps.

You know the last time I was in Sweden I was just three-four weeks pregnant (and didn’t know it yet, but suspected because of sore breasts and plus I was really tired, as you can see here.)

It’s a good thing I didn’t go in the sauna that winter or I might have cooked Baby!

A worried friend

One of my good friends is 14 weeks pregnant (no, I’m not talking about Christy) and just got the results from her prenatal screening for birth defects. She was told she has a one in one hundred-something chance that her child has Down Syndrome, and will undergo amniocentesis later this week. This is someone who is constantly anxious and has frequent panic attacks, so this situation and uncertainty is especially difficult for her. I told her I understood those tests to have a high false-positive rate (which is why I declined them), and tried to reassure her on that note, and that amnios are extremely unlikely to cause miscarriage. I’m not sure she heard anything I said, though. She is fairly panicked.

I got the impression that were her child to be diagnosed with Down Syndrome, she would choose to terminate the pregnancy. The way she talked about Down Syndrome, it was clear she thinks of it as making a child “unhealthy” or even nonviable, and that termination was the common result of this diagnosis. What’s interesting to me about this is that I guess I don’t necessarily see Down Syndrome that way. Maybe it’s because I was familiar with people with this chromosomal difference growing up, and saw that they could form part of happy families. I know that many, though, think of it as a curse, something to be avoided at all costs, and it certainly comes with its share of difficulties. I don’t really know what I would do, how I would feel, if I were faced with this diagnosis or some other abnormality. I think it’s almost certainly a false alarm in her case, though. I’ll let you all know what happens for her.

Today is actually her birthday. I got her a play gym for the baby and now I’m not sure if I should give it to her or not.