Bears are smart.

Bears are smart, because they hibernate. For all of winter.

We'd like to do that. It sounds kind of genius. Because this week?

Ugh.

I think both Steve and I have felt at our limit for almost the entirety of 2016. For the past month or so we've been dealing with our concern for our little baby always on our minds, my persistent (though thankfully decreasing) morning sickness and inability to uphold my previous standard of housekeeping/cooking/grocery shopping/being a human, the stress of having a house on the market and of getting an offer (which--yes! YAY!) that, if it goes through, will leave us with the task of coming up with a few thousand bucks we don't yet have AND homeless in Winston for two months, lots of concerns for the unique struggles of several of our far-away and beloved extended family members, the budget (which suffers greatly when this mama is out of it), and knowing that we will be moving somewhere in July--but STILL not knowing WHERE.

We're not totally drowning in our lives, but we have felt like we're barely keeping our heads above water.

And Monday morning, we discovered that one of our kids had lice.

If it was a normal week, a normal month, a normal year, we probably wouldn't have lost our cool over it. But because it was the proverbial straw falling on a couple of already heavily-laden camels (that's us--watch out, we spit!), we both just kind of died inside. Like, each separately had conversations with Heavenly Father about how we were about to hit breaking point and please please please we needed some slack.

We did a round of Nix while surreptitiously checking the other two kids' heads and doing load after load of laundry. But alas--the super lice only kind of cared about the Nix, and we discovered the next day that the 5 hour ordeal from the day before wasn't done. Poor kiddo. We got an Rx shampoo from the doctor and went through the process again (though much quicker this time) last night and today, thank goodness, everything was clean and clear and our schooling kiddos were cleared to go back to life as usual.

Aaaaand poor Steve has had a string of night shifts this week, which means both of us sleep badly and he is just totally thrown off eating/sleeping/energy-wise.

We're exhausted.

My hair is channeling Mufasa's mane.

I'm wearing the exact same clothes I wore yesterday.

I stress-ate three packs of fruit snacks this morning.

And we've had pizza for dinner three (or four??? I can't remember Saturday...) of the past six nights.

13 Weeks and the Bump.

You guys. I am THIRTEEN WEEKS today! THIRTEEN! That means in one more week, I will OFFICIALLY be DONE with the wretched first trimester!!!

Though the end of the first trimester doesn't mean my little body officially understands that it's time for us to stop feeling nauseated and start eating vegetables and hamburgers, it does mean that we've gotten what is (to me) the most grueling, lonely, and self-worth-doubting portion under our belts. I want to cry when I think about how I felt three or four weeks ago. Honestly, I can't think about it. It is too heavy.

But hooray. Thirteen weeks. Baby is working on getting fingerprints and vocal chords, and is almost 3 inches long from crown to rump--about the size of a peach! It is kicking hello right now. So hello from baby. (Maybe it's ears are burning since I'm bragging about it's many feats of growing.)

Thanks to the arrival of the stretchy pants in the mail (hooray for mail order!) and to feeling better in the mornings, today I got dressed, braided my hair(!), and took my first official belly picture of baby #4. :)

Steve had his first day back at work after his week off. He was done at 3. It's 5, and he's still not home and hasn't called, which indicates that either (a) it was very busy and he will be tired or (b) he caught an interesting case at the end of his shift and opted to stay a little late. I'm hoping for his sake that it's the latter.

We got an offer on the house already. It's very low, and came from a rental company. They didn't even send someone by to take a look, just dropped an offer on us sight-unseen. We've been negotiating, but I'm not sure if we can hit a number that will work for them and not put us in financial-limbo for the next couple of months.

One good thing about having been so sick for the past few months is that I have let go of my worries about EVERYTHING that isn't totally immediate. Which is very, very unlike me. I've always got a plan. It's my safety net. But I actually said to Steve yesterday as we discussed potential temporary housing options between closing and moving, "Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. We'll just deal with it when it comes."

He laughed and said, "Welcome to the other side. How does it feel?"

It definitely doesn't feel ideal. But its kind of the only way to cope for now. :)

After school today I played the ultrasound video from yesterday for the kids (mainly Gracie). She brought her Goldfish cracker snack over and stood by the sectional, watching baby move and exclaiming over how cute it was. Juliette and Charlie came over, too, and when it was over Charlie asked me to play it again.

Though Juliette insists that she herself is a baby, and doesn't seem to willing to sacrifice that title no matter how I praise her for being a "big girl," she has been really fascinated by the ultrasounds since we first showed her the gummy bear sonogram a few weeks ago. Today she sat beside me while I baby-blogged and asked repeatedly, "Wanna see baby?" Which means, Hey Mom, let's look at the latest ultrasound picture!

So we looked at the ultrasound over and over, and every time she smiled and declared it "so cute" and told me, "That's the baby!" She was even able to identify baby's little body parts--head, tummy, back, foot, and hand--in the ultrasound. Takes after her daddy, I guess. ;)

12 Weeks and Kicking.

The closer I get to the end of the first trimester, the more light there seems to be at the end of the tunnel. :) Hitting the 12 week mark last Friday (baby fruit size: "large plum") I noticed that I was feeling less queasy in the mornings (evenings are still not as great) and throwing up MUCH less. YES!!!! Down from 3-4 times per day in the early weeks, to 1-2 in the later weeks, and in weeks 11 and 12 each incident was several days apart.

The intense depression that accompanied being incapable of doing/enjoying most of the normal things my life entailed before pregnancy also began to lift. I'm still not back to normal, but I feel like "normal" (well normal-ish, anyway) is something that might actually be possible again someday.

I've started getting dressed again. Just feeling well enough to get dressed, make the bed, and drive the kiddos to school (without wondering if I'm about to embarrass myself in the drop-off line) is a balm to my soul. Really. Not exaggerating.

And Steve and I have been able to hang out in the evenings, again. For a while I had to go right to bed or I would (you guessed it!) throw up. But now, as long as I eat a big bowl of rice after dinner to settle my stomach, I can usually hang out for two episodes of Person of Interest, and/or until almost ten. And we've been sleeping in the same bed again for a couple of weeks, which--hooray! I missed him. He's my bestie.

It turned out that the beginnings of really feeling better came none too soon, because while I was in agony and despair on the sofa over the last few months, I apparently forgot to pay the utility bill for so long that we got a letter threatening to cut our water off.

I opened the notice just in time to pay it.

I also have about 30 overdue library books, which the library has sent me multiple notices about. I should get a bill for those this week--hopefully I remember to turn the books in before then.

Aaaaaaand I didn't fill out the paperwork (due at the beginning of February) to renew the kids' insurance with the state. So they almost lost coverage altogether. I was lucky to get in touch with the nicest caseworker ever, who told me if I could get her all the paperwork by 2/29, she would be able to save me. And she did. I have some thank you notes to write to lots of people for helping this trimester, starting with her.

Steve had the week off. He'd originally scheduled this time off so I could go visit my BFF Suzi (who I haven't seen in 3 years!) in Arizona. Buuuut then we found out I was pregnant, and we rescheduled because we knew I'd be all-day sick and not much fun as a house guest. :)

So instead he spent the week working on final touches to get the house ready to sell. (We are BAWLING inside about this.) He re-dug and finished out a beautiful french drain in the back yard (a project he has been dreading for literally a year) with the help of some co-residents, Ann and Dennis, who came over to lend a hand. He and I deep cleaned and staged the house on Tuesday morning to prepare it for the photographer.

And then March 1st, it went on the market.

We don't know where we're going yet, and it makes me heartsick every time it hits me that we're leaving this sweet little home. But we didn't even know where Winston was when Steve got accepted to med school here almost 7 years ago, and it has been wonderful. We met kindred spirits. We really became our own family here. And I'm excited to see what Heavenly Father has planned for us next.

...I just a little bit wish I could pick up our house and transplant it wherever we are going. :)

In baby-related news, I've been feeling kicks since week 11! I totally thought I was crazy (I have never felt one earlier than week 14) and didn't tell Steve. But the days passed and it became more and more clear to me that the little tap-tap-tap I feel when I'm sitting on a step, with my knees up by my chest, is our little bun. I feel it pretty regularly now a few times a day, usually bumping against the spot where the seam of my stretchy preggo pants hit. (I bought some stretchy pants because the regular ones hurt my abdomen--and because I wanted to wear something that wasn't leggings!)

Steve and I also got to go to our 12-week ultrasound together. Baby's measurements were good (yay!) and we got a good 10 minutes of baby-watching. It was amazing to see how much it had changed since we had our first scan at almost 9 weeks. It went from a little gummy bear with little stubby arms and legs to a full-fledged little person with long legs kicking around. It wiggled and bounced and moved its arms and legs. Steve was transfixed. :)

Almost-9-week gummy bear:

12 week scan--totally baby looking!

From this angle you can't see how long its little legs and arms are, but I was shocked to see how big they'd grown!

The hemorrhage was about the same size, but according to the tech (and my ultrasound-knowledgeable hubs) it looks like its starting to clot. (Which is good, because clotting is part of healing.)

We rounded out the visit with a blood draw, at which point I was very thankful for good phlebotamists. I know I've done this pregnancy thing 3 times before, but I'm still not the biggest fan of getting my blood drawn, and feel very wussy about it in my head. Though I think I hold myself together well enough, minus a little bit of overly enthusiastic conversation which I use to distract myself from the NEEDLE. :p

Stats (as of ultrasound):
Weeks pregnant: 12 weeks, 6 days
Baby's fruit size: Large plum
Net weight gain: ? (Didn't check)
Doctor visits: 2
Cups peed in: 2
Blood draws: 2
Ultrasounds: 4

11 Weeks, and the Second Doctor Visit.

On the Friday that was our 11 week mark (2 Fridays ago), baby and I went to the doctor. We peed in a cup, per usual, and then had a follow-up ultrasound to check on the healing/progress of my hemorrhage. (Which is just the most terrible sounding word, isn't it?) The technician said she thought it was looking a little better, and my doctor agreed.

The sonongrapher also checked on baby, who looked somehow much bigger and more baby-like than even just a few days earlier when I went in with Steve. Baby kicked a few times (I couldn't feel it, but I saw it), and I fell in love. Amazing to see such a tiny little person moving like that.

Afterwards I met with Dr. Pollard (who delivered Juliette) for an exam and PAP, and a little Q&A. I was surprised that I really didn't have many questions for him. A lot of the first trimester junk is pretty familiar by the fourth time around, so I really only needed clarification about the bleeding. He said it is fairly normal, and that they usually resolve by themselves. He couldn't give me a time frame as to how quickly that might happen, because every pregnancy is so different. I'll be honest--I wished he could give me a little more than that.

There were house cleaners(!) at our house that morning (we Grouponed some housekeeping in preparation for putting our house on the market--which happens next week! AH!) so I called Steve to find out what he and the kids were up to. He'd taken Jules and Charlie for second-breakfast at Panera, so I joined them and ate a chocolate croissant and a glass of milk. Then we went to Target together--my first trip to Target in almost six weeks because I basically hadn't felt well enough to leave the house unless required by school drop-off--and picked out some towels and stuff to spruce up the house for showings. At one point in the middle of the bathroom decor aisle, Steve hugged me and said he was so glad to see me standing up. It was an event. :)

When we got home, we walked all through the house and admired everything the cleaners had cleaned. It was like fairies came to our house. Grown-up magic. ;)

Stats (as of dr. appt):

Weeks pregnant: 11 weeks, 0 days
Baby's fruit size: Fig/Kumquat
Net weight gain: -2lbs
Doctor visits: 2
Cups peed in: 2
Blood draws: 1
Ultrasounds: 3

Big Helps from Little Hands

The kids have been amazing during the morning sickness. Amazing.

They get up on time on their own--Gracie ring-leading and keeping the flow going. They get dressed. Sometimes Gracie even dresses Juliette. They get their own breakfast, and one of the bigger kids gets food for Jules. And then they continue to go about their morning routines until it is time for elementary school drop-off.

After quiet time and school (with a little prompting) they do their chores. Gracie and Charlie each clean part of a bathroom (one does the toilet, the other cleans the sink and counter), and they alternate days between their bathroom and the downstairs powder room, which means those each get cleaned 2-3 times a week. Then they clean their rooms, and do one other day-specific chore like dusting a room, taking out the small trashes, or cleaning up the Lego table.

Even these usual daily chores (which they've been doing since last year) are incredibly helpful with keeping up the house while Steve works and basically single-parents, but they haven't stopped there.

Last week Gracie found herself with no laundry to fold (her Tuesday-specific chore). I was curled up on the couch, as usual, and Steve was at work. So she took it upon herself to really get to work. She dragged the vacuum cleaner upstairs and vacuumed. She cleaned up everything in Juliette's room, which had basically been a tornado before she got her hands on it. Her grin when she presented it to me melted my heart.

She even sneaked into my bedroom, cleaned up everything off the floor, put laundry in the hampers, and made our bed.

This girl. Look at the pride she takes in her work! It shines in her eyes. She was so happy to be able to help her mama out and do something to take care of our home. And she really did a stellar job, too. :)

Charlie has been really helpful, too. He takes charge of Juliette often, especially when Gracie isn't around. He's always there to get her a drink of water (she's recently discovered the joys of ice in her water bottle, and he even gets that for her), put her shoes on, and help herd her into her car seat. He's also gotten really good at putting her down for her nap, and even tucks her in and shuts her door.

And they play together. Sometimes Spot It, sometimes Legos, sometimes coloring, and sometimes--lightsaber battles. (These are especially fun couch-entertainment for mama.)

And he is tenderly attentive to me, often coming over to give me a snuggle or show me a cool Lego creation. And he's been writing lots of "MOM"s for me, and drawing me hundreds of smiley faces, which he delivers to me with a pleased wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jules may have the smallest hands, but she's found ways to help, too. She's (almost) always willing to help clean up toys, and will usually upgrade the experience by singing, "Clean up, pick up, put away! Clean up, everyday!" in her precious little voice.

She's also very attentive to Mom and Dad's rest, lately. (No wonder, since we both collapse onto flat surfaces--couch, ottoman, floor--on a regular basis!) She is always bringing us blankets to keep us warm, and laying pillows on us in case we should need them.

She has also appointed herself the official Mommy-company-keeper. No matter where I am, she will find a place beside me or down at my feet to nestle herself in. She brings her own pillow and blanket, settles back, and sucks her little thumb. Sometimes we talk about belly buttons, elbows, and babies in our tummies, and sometimes we just enjoy a companionable silence. Just a couple of girls and their blankets.

(Not Quite So) Down with the Sickness

For the last three days I have been feeling... better. Not 100%, but not afraid that I'll lose every single thing that I eat, either. In fact, in the mornings, I feel pretty okayish.

I can sit up on the couch instead of laying curled in fetal position wishing I was unconscious in my bed.

I can smile at Steve and not have to fake it through feeling like total garbage.

I can brush my teeth with actual toothpaste, without gagging. (Not to brag, but I can even sneeze without gagging sometimes, now!)

I can read a book to my kiddos, make my bed, and sometimes cook a (very simple) dinner when Steve is working an evening shift.

I think until now I wondered a little if I was being dramatic or lazy, spending my days prostrate on the sofa waiting for the next chance to crawl into my bed and sleep. There are enough well-meaning people who tell you to just suck on some ginger and that will make it better. But I was on two medications and still unable to eat enough andd keep enough in me to maintain my body weight.

Now that I've been feeling more human for a few days, I know I wasn't being either lazy or dramatic. It was really that bad. I was really that sick. I almost can't even think about it, because it had me in such a desperate, hopeless place. I couldn't take care of my family. I couldn't even take care of myself.

I couldn't drink water because it made me sick. Driving the kids to school was torture--feeling totally ill and wondering if I was finally going to have to hurl into the emergency ziploc bag I kept in the van console, in front of everyone at Charlie's preschool drop-off line.

I told another mama this week that I had been feeling so ill I hadn't been to Target in 6 weeks. The look on her face. She got it. #momlife

My whole life--even down to what I could and couldn't keep in my body--was out of my control. It was terrible. Depressing. Humbling.

Add to that the frightening bleeding from the subchorionic hemorrhage they found in my uterus--some days so heavy that I was convinced I was going to lose this sweet little baby--and I felt beaten down into the dust. My heart ached. I was hungry. I was sick. And I was worried about our tiny little one. And there was nothing I could do about any of it.

Today I am so grateful for the feelings of closer-to-wellness in my body. For the small things I can do to help around the house. For the foods I can eat. That I can drink a glass of water. (Oh how I missed water!) That I can sit with Jules snuggled against me. That it feels good again for Steve to stroke my hair. That the nausea has receded enough that I notice other, less poignant discomforts--like that I need to stretch my arms or back. Things I hadn't had the energy or presence of mind to contemplate over the last several weeks. After feeling maybe 20% for so long, an 85% feels like a miracle. :)

Gratitude

This post was initially meant for my ramblings on my conference announcement emails, but then I realized it was too long. 

I have written a little bit about wellness lately. I definitely am no expert at this. I doubt many of us are, given the high rate of reported burnout within our specialty. But I think it's important that we try to explore what we are able to do to avoid burnout so we can keep enjoying the work we have chosen. 

(I'm writing this while listening to the newly-Grammy-winning Best Rock Song by Alabama Shakes, "Don't Wanna Fight." Cool song)

As I was reading one of the articles about it this week (can't remember if it was in ACEP Now or the EMRA magazine), I read something that struck me. There was a resident that had an attending that, to him/her, seemed remarkably happy. Moreso, the attending was contended with his job. I don't remember his exact response to the resident's questioning, but basically said something to the affect that his attitude at work and in life was related to the gratitude that he felt. 

That hit me. And it has been on my mind lately. 

(Now YouTube has started playing Alabama Shakes "Gimme All Your Love." I can't decide if I like or dislike it... Which intrigues me...)

I was speaking to my dad recently on the phone. We were talking about how Jamie has felt kind of ill over the last few weeks. (We are expecting our fourth kid. Crazy Waltons). Jamie gets horrible morning sickness for the first trimester of her pregnancy. She doesn't feel sick all the time... Just when she's awake or moving. As a result of her illness, I am playing every role at home. I have so much respect for the single parent. I'm so tired. 

(Now Alabama Shakes' "Hold On." I have heard this one. I like this)

Anywho, I was talking to my dad about it. I can't say I was necessarily complaining. Just trying to commiserate with somebody. Somehow our conversation turned to his health problems as a child. 

Dad grew up with what my siblings and I called his "second bellybutton" - his tracheostomy scar. He has had it since birth. He doesn't even know what led to his illness at birth, but knows that for about the first year of his life, he had a trach in place for about a year before having it taken out. Randomly, at about the same time, something went poorly with his older brother, my uncle, who ended up in the hospital at the same time my father was born, and also needed a trach. They have matching second belly buttons. 

My father then relates how his mother, my grandma, would have to clean and change the trach multiple times per day, into the night, for the course of that year. All this while dealing with four older kids, as my dad is the youngest of five kids. And she did it. Without complaining, I imagine. My grandmother was an angel. 

(Done with Alabama Shakes. Muse won best rock album. Now Muse's "Dead Inside.")

Dad then proceeds to tell me how his mother held on to those little trach tubes, which my dad now keeps in a drawer in his office to remind him of his mother's sacrifice. 

Anyway, this story made me reflect on this idea of gratitude. It's something that I wish to be better at in my life. I truly have a lot to be grateful for. I have heard an old adage: "Attitude determines Altitude." I had a great mentor after high school that added onto that: "And Gratitude determines Attitude." 

(I love Muse. Not the most conducive music to... well... probably anything productive... but oh well...)

So, I don't know if it's because I'm tired. I don't know if it's because it's cold outside and I miss the sunshine. But whatever it is, I've definitely been reflecting a lot lately. I truly have a lot to be grateful for. 

I'm grateful for my family. My wife is my BFF, and I haven't gotten to hang out with her a lot lately. If she tries to hang out, she barfs. Which isn't the most fun for either of us. Definitely less so for her. I miss her, and not spending as much time with her helps me see how lucky I am to be with her. I'm grateful for my little kids, who have stepped up and helped out around the house, seeing as daddy is drowning. Also very grateful for Papa John's. I should buy stock.

I'm grateful for my Wamily. My co-residents are friends that I will miss after we finish up here. I've had two recent events which have required me to call in backup. My co-residents covered for me without hesitation, and without expecting payback (which I can't allow, of course). They are like family to me. 

I'm grateful for this residency program. I'm sure you can't see it, but I've learned and grown quite a bit. 

Anyway, as I work harder to avoid burnout in my career, I will try to be more grateful for the work I do and for the people I work with. 

I challenge you to do the same. 

10 Weeks

Our teeny baby is 10 weeks old now, the size of a kumquat (which I had to look up online) or about 1.5 inches long.

Steve and I figure we've been living this upside down lifestyle for about a month now, which is both encouraging (4 weeks down! Go us!) and disheartening (Only halfway done with the sickness?!). As with most of the tough stuff we've gone through (a lot of which has been pregnancy related, actually) we are trying to laugh about it as much as possible. Its sort of a "this is so pathetic" laughter, but still--it beats tears most days.

We decided to share the news with the world at large yesterday, when we officially hit our 10-week mark, so the day before we let Charlie and Juliette in on the news, too. Charlie was pretty calm about it. I think it is a little mind-blowing, and he just took it in and processed it without the giddiness of big sister's response. He has been talking about the baby, though, and making suggestions (maybe we could have a door to the stairs instead of a baby gate for the next baby?). Its slowly infiltrating his awareness of our family, and it is sweet to hear him discuss "the next baby."

When we told Juliette, she just laughed, because she is two, and why in the world would Mom have a baby inside her stomach?!

We showed them both the ultrasound, and they both mulled over the possibility that this blurry gummy-bear was a picture of a tiny baby inside their mama.

The internet was very excited about our announcement. My fav response was from Melisa Turbyfill (@mtanverdi), which I screencapped and texted to Steve at work:

Juliette is laying with me on the couch, and when she saw me post this screencap she said, "That's the baby!" So we pulled out my phone and looked at the real picture of it a couple times. "You want to see the baby?" she says when she needs another look. Then I pull it up and she points to the little gummy bear and says, "That's the baby!"

Jules has been a great little buddy and caretaker over the last few weeks. Yesterday she lay on the couch for hours watching PBS while I was curled in a ball under my own blanket. (The days I have wake up at a reasonable hour and to drive kids around make me unreasonably sick.) I took a nap, and she chilled by me. This morning she went upstairs to retrieve her blanket when I settled in for some cantaloupe.

(My daily diet is some combination of rice, croissant, bagel, and cantaloupe. Non-stop. I miss hamburgers.)

Because it is Saturday and I got to sleep until my body's preferred 9am and haven't had to leave the house, I've felt semi-okay and had enough energy to sort through my inbox. (Which--ugh!) It is nice to have that whittled down even if it isn't completed. I still have some things I need to work on, but I'm trying to keep stopping points in mind so I don't overdo it. When I overdo it, I start losing my meals, and that is very, very sad.

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Steve and I have agreed to postpone until I feel better. It will be more fun to celebrate when we can eat together, because we love food so most of our celebrations center on eating it. :) The kiddos will get some fun little gifties that Steve picked out for them from us, and yesterday the big kids both had school parties that loaded them up with treats. It was pretty cute--they both responded the same way when they got home: Sat right down with their bags and went through their spoils with my one by one.

Gracie chose a wonderfully themed Valentine's outfit, and left for school in a pale pink heart-covered T, magenta headband, and bright pink pants with holes in the knees. I can't believe my first little babe is so grown up now. She is a wonder.

Steve got home from work tired. He is very tired lately, poor guy. More apt than usual to fall asleep without planning it. Yesterday he settled in on the floor near me, and Juliette brought him a pillow and blanket. He was out and snoring in minutes, and happy to get the recharge before getting up to make the kiddos their pizza.

I got pretty sick during movie night and ended up putting myself to bed early. When everyone came up for bedtimes they came in and kissed me, the sweethearts, and then Juliette took it upon herself to put me to bed. She gave me hugs and then sang me two bedtime songs, and then shooed Steve out of our bedroom so she could shut the door and tell me goodnight and "Cyose your eyes!"

Saving My Life Right Now

There's a little trend going around the internet right now, because it is February, and February is cold and hard on even the non-pregnant. It's just this: share the little things that are saving your life right now. Anne Boegel (a popular book blogger--yay books!) wrote:

The idea comes from Barbara Brown Taylor’s wonderful memoir Leaving Church. In it, Taylor tells the story of when she was invited to speak at a gathering, and her host assigned the topic: “Tell us what is saving your life right now.”

It’s a good question. Most of us know what’s killing us, and can articulate it, if asked. But few of us pay attention to what’s giving us life. The question invites you to do just that.

So, we're all well aware of what is getting me down. Here are the things that are saving my life:

1. Big kids putting Juliette down for her naps & bedtimes.  One less trudge up the stairs when I'm feeling so ill. And also, a sweet little bonding opportunity for them which was a happy accidental side effect.

2. Sleep. Partly because I'm tired. Partly because it helps me keep food in my body. Partly because it is the only respite from the nausea. Partly because it helps me feel less nauseous afterward. It is healing and rest, and I am thankful for the mornings Steve is home and lets me sleep in, and for my afternoon naps, every day. And for early bedtime. And for our bed, and our duvet, which are a few of the only things that feel good.

3. A very specific list of foods, which Steve lovingly keeps me stocked with. He doesn't even question it, just asks what he can get me when I go to the store. So far, reliable foods include:

Cantaloupe
Waffle Crisp, Corn Flakes, and Corn Chex cereals
Apple juice
Egg bagels with butter
Rice with butter

4. Steve's SUPERDAD powers. He is ON TOP OF IT. He's parenting. He's cooking, shopping, cleaning, doing laundry. And preparing our home to go on the market. Oh, and also he still goes to work. He is rocking it. And most of all, he is so generous, sweet, and loving. I know this is a huge life balance shift for him, and he has been so gracious and tender with me.

5. The Chromebook. We got an inexpensive Chromebook so I can work from the couch, and it has been immensely helpful. I've been doing some freelancing from the sofa, and also working on our taxes and occasionally some family history.

6.  Streaming TV. In the first two weeks of being sick, I watched every available episode of HGTV's Fixer Upper--both on Netflix and on HGTV.com. I've also been dabbling in Downton Abbey's final season, and Steve and I have been watching X-Files and Person of Interest for a little bit in the evening.

7. Zofran. It hasn't killed the nausea, but it has made a difference. And every little bit helps.

8. A huge nest of pillows & blankets in my bed. I'm not comfortable very often lately, but the pillow nest is pretty close.

9. Spot It. We've been playing this a lot as a family. We all lay on the floor together. It is fast paced and fun and short, and both the big kiddos can play it with appropriate card-handicaps. We've been enjoying it a lot. Sometimes the littler two even split the deck and play it solitaire-style side-by-side on the sofa.

10. Maternity leggings. I don't know why, but all clothes touching my stomach feel terrible, except the two pairs of soft, low-rise Old Navy maternity leggings I bought when I was preggers with Jules. So I have been wearing those every day and oh, they are just the best.

Hanging In

I think at this point it is pretty safe to say this is the worst "morning" sickness I have ever had. Even on two medications, I still throw up on average 1-2 times a day. I feel sick unless I am sleeping. And Jules and I are spending lots and lots of time hanging out like this on the couch.

When I come downstairs in the morning she greets me with, "Hi Mom! You want to yay down?" :)

In the morning I wake up and pop a Zofran in my mouth before I get out of bed. If Steve's home, he takes Gracie to school and I sleep until 9ish. If he's not, I set my alarm for 7:15, and then a second for 7:30. I give myself a few minutes to gear myself up for another day, and by 7:45 I'm up. Gracie is a rockstar, and has gotten the crew of littles going with breakfast and gotten her own morning routine almost handled by the time I get downstairs. (I do have that first alarm set so that I can hop up and wake everyone on the off chance that they aren't already up and about.)

I eat something (lately my life has been brunch: croissants and cantaloupe, sometimes 2-3 times a day, because they taste good, are gentle, and don't hurt coming up) and then drive Gracie to school. I'd say about 50% of the time I am actively fighting not to throw up in the car. Driving is the worst.

Then back home. If Charlie has preschool I gear up for another round of driving. If not, I collapse to the couch and the kiddos play.

Sometimes I mix it up and lay on the blue sofa in the living room instead of the sectional in the family room. It is luxurious to have two couches, and I appreciate the change of light and scenery.

Once the kids have had lunch, I take a nap during quiet time. If Steve is home, he handles lunch and school pickup, so I get an extra good nap. Yesterday (Sunday) I slept until 5pm. If Steve's working, I sleep on the couch (so I'm not too comfortable) and set lots of alarms so I won't sleep through picking up Gracie. I also wake up at least once in a panic, having dreamed that I left her at school.

My nap feels like a reward for being awake and nauseous all morning. :)

Throwing up just happens when it happens. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes afternoon, sometimes night. Usually not all three now that I've added Zofran to my daily pharmaceutical intake.

I miss eating. I miss sleeping normally. Steve came and slept in our bed last night, and it was so nice to feel him there with me when I woke up in the night.

But since we had our horrible scare last Thursday, I am thankful just to still be pregnant. Even though I feel overcome. I am thankful for the little gummy-bear baby still safely in my tummy. And being terribly sick means I'm still preggers with that little one, and that is a good thing.

Naptime in T-minus 35 minutes. :)

9th Week

Baby's 9th week of life was a little crazy, and it all hit hard, all at once.

Yesterday, it started off by receiving a notification from one of my supervising physicians that we needed to speak about one of our patients that we had seen recently. This is never a good thing. I have yet to be contacted to be like "Hey, Steve, remember that dude we saw together and diagnosed _____?! That was awesome. That's all! See ya later!" I finally got a hold of my attending, and found out that the patient we took care of and discharged had met an early and tragic end. Though his death did not appear to be related to what he came in for, it was still awful to hear, and set the tone of the rest of the day.

I felt like garbage also, physically. I think I caught Jamie's cold, which she had for the last several days. I was on the couch, trying to relax when Jamie looked over the couch and asked Gracie to go do something upstairs. My oh-crap radar went off quickly. Jamie seemed very stern. After Gracie vacated the room, I asked what was up. Jamie told me that she was having some bleeding.

1st Trimester Bleeding is a very common thing, and one actually that I see in the Emergency Room fairly often, but I had yet to be on the other side of this one. We have been on the opposite side for some of Jamie's potentially scary pregnancy stuff, including falling and potentially hurting baby in the 3rd trimester (I think that was with Charlie), Charlie's shoulder dystocia, Jamie's hemorrhage after Charlie's birth... while writing this, it's becoming clear that Charlie's pregnancy was the troublemaker. That boy.

But anyway, we see this often like I said, and I know the possible implications of early bleeding. It runs the gamut from harmless nothing to life-threatening ectopic pregnancy. Though, a lot of the more dangerous etiologies are associated with abdominal pain, of which Jamie had none, so that was a reassuring thing. And except for ectopic pregnancy, it's rarely a threat to mom, but potentially a threat to the little growing baby. (My mind keeps wanting to write fetus, but it's a weird word. Unless you pronounce it like the awesome Sorensen's; Fay-Toose)

We hugged and held each other, and cried. Cried, cried, cried. I didn't realize until this point how invested we were in this little grape-sized soul. We have a relatively big family compared to our peers (unless you count the unstoppable Smith's, who now are expecting twins to round out with 10 kids!), but this baby is not just another drop in the bucket forever. It's a new spirit, a new soul, a new life, one we are excited to meet.

At one point, while talking, Jamie said sorry. This broke my heart. My best friend, my soulmate, the person that knows me better than anyone else, the sweet and caring mother of my children, my partner in all things felt like she was doing something wrong.

We held and we talked, and she immediately called her OB office. She left to her appointment for an ultrasound, and I stayed on the couch glued to my phone, waiting for text updates.

Jamie said she did okay on the way, but when she hit the lobby, she broke down. I wonder if I broke down about the same time. I just sat on the couch, and it struck me. I thought of the warm, soft baby skin against my chest with each of my 3 beautiful children. I am pretty bad with memories, but I can always remember the deep and tender love I have felt and continue to feel with each of my children.

It strikes me that we are very lucky. We do not have the difficulty that many couples do with getting pregnant. Many women miscarry. Jamie never has. We glimpsed into the sadness that strikes when expecting then losing a child, and my heart goes out to those families.

Anyway, she had developed what's known as a subchorionic hemorrhage, which is on the spectrum of less-concerning things. It puts our risk of a possible miscarriage a little higher than others, but for what it could have been, it was pretty unconcerning.

And, we got to see baby. I got to see a printed picture, but Jamie got to see it in action. All one inch of it's gummy bear glory. Heart bumping away about 180 times per minute.

The day ended in this whirlwind of emotion. But the bleeding let up, and all was well.

Except that I couldn't sleep. At first I thought it was to do with all the emotional rollercoastering that was going on. But then my throat was sore. And it got worse, and worse, and worse. I couldn't even swallow my spit. I got up every hour or two for the duration of the night.

In the morning, I checked my throat in the mirror, and it looked pretty gnarly. I was set to work at 9am, but I figured I'd go a little earlier to see if I was okay to work or if I should check in as a patient. I saw Dr. Miller at his desk, and asked him to check me out and he agreed - my throat looked pretty messed up. It looked like what's called a peritonsillar abscess. Basically pus under the tissue, near the tonsil. Gross.

I checked to see who was on call for ENT at the hospital. Luckily, Jordan Wallin was on call, so I shot him a quick page. He called me back, and was able to see me in his clinic over in Clemmons. And he agreed. Maybe an early peritonsillar abscess. So... he drained it. And ouch... That hurt.

And I almost passed out. Felt like a wimp.

I got home, and I felt like garbage. Started my antibiotics, steroids, and... lo and behold... Jamie had some leftover Norco. I don't recommend this ever to patients, but I definitely stole my wife's medication. And it was exactly what I needed.

I've rested all day, and I've started to feel better.

And now, I'm waiting to fall asleep, watching reruns of The Office, on the couch downstairs because little grape-baby has already made it so Jamie can't share the bed.

I miss my wife so bad. She's my best friend, and little baby keeps us apart for a large part of the first trimester. It's funny not telling people early about our pregnancy. We usually wait until like week 12 or something. We've told family, but nobody else. So, I've hung out with some friends recently, and everybody thinks I'm ditching my wife. Truthfully, I know she is home, asleep, not wanting to be out or doing anything, so I don't feel so bad. Eventually, someone's going to put 2 and 2 together. "Why has Jamie been sick for so.... Oh. Oooooooooh."

There. Rambling done.

What a crazy few days.

I love my wife so much, and my heartache over the last 2 days just proves that my heart is stretching and growing to prepare to love a new little angel.

8 Weeks, and the first Dr. Visit.

Week eight (raspberry week) has been the hardest yet. LOTS of nausea. Worse than I remember with any of my babes before. Lots of throwing up. Lots of sleeping.

It's hard to write about this stuff, because I don't want to think about it (and I don't really like to remember it later). But it is part of the story of this pregnancy, which is going to bring someone very sweet into our home. So here I am writing.

While it has been really physically and emotionally challenging to be so sick, I am thankful for all the "training" I've been doing in preparation for this time. Because of the counseling, careful introspection, and learning that I've done over the past year and a half, I am more okay with being humble in my circumstances than I have ever been. I have graciously declined requests to contribute outside our home, because I honestly can't do it without suffering serious (and also icky) consequences. I have guiltlessly decided that it is absolutely fine for me to wear comfortable clothing (read: JAMMIES) all day long. I have gratefully surrendered a lot (almost every single bit) of my usual work around the house to Steve and the kids.

This kind of humility is a HUGE challenge for me. I place a lot of value on my efficiency, productivity, and a ability to keep our home running smoothly. I take a lot of pride in providing an environment that allows my family to feel relaxed, loved, and cared for. Right now, I can only provide a tiny part of what I usually can, and it has been a daily challenge for me to face that head on. That I can't.

But I am also thankful. Thankful for a family who loves me and looks after me, for a husband who is willing to go above and beyond his usual work to keep our home, marriage, and kids doing great. Thankful for the opportunity my family has provided through their work for me to take care of myself, rest, take (long) daily naps. Thankful for kids who are happy to play together, or lay on the floor with me and play card games. Thankful for the (forced) chance to slow down, look around, and really value the sweet life we've made together.

And thankful for a new little baby growing bigger everyday.

I've been so sick... It has been hard to keep perspective. I changed all my lock screens to this picture of Jules and Steve, so have this constant reminder: this is what its for. To bring a new sweet little baby into this world. And it is going to feel worth it at the finish line.

Yesterday was my first official doctor visit (and cup-pee) of this pregnancy. I also spent a good amount of time chatting with the admissions nurse (who gave me the go-ahead to get on some Zofran, which has made ALL THE DIFFERENCE today!!!) about my health history and what to expect. We talked about the fact that I will be moving partway through this pregnancy. That makes my heart clench. I have loved delivering with this practice at Forsyth hospital, and it will be hard to change all that up at the third trimester. And then I got my blood drawn by an excellent phlebotomist and headed home.

Stats (as of dr. appt):

Weeks pregnant: 8 weeks, 6 days
Baby's fruit size: Raspberry
Net weight gain: -3lbs

Doctor visits: 1

Cups peed in: 1
Blood draws: 1

7 Weeks.

It's 7:18 pm, and I'm just hanging out on the couch biding my time until it feels not-too-lame to go to bed. I'm shooting for 8, but we'll see if I make it until then.

We made it to 7 weeks on Friday, and this teeny tiny babe in my belly is officially the size of a blueberry. It still blows my mind when I get those little updates from a pregnancy app that say things like, "Baby is 10,000 times the size it was at conception." That is a LOT of growing happening, little one.

I am still sick. Very. I'm pretty sure Sea Bands are not effective at all, but I wear them all the time (even to sleep) superstitiously. Because I don't want to not wear them and then throw up. Just in case. You know. They are like weirdly sporty-looking security blankets that make an odd circular imprint on my supposed anti-nausea acupressure point.

I washed my hair today. (Bragging.) It feels really good. It has been a long time (let us not count the days!) since I washed all of it. I know I washed the top half last week. It's long and there's lots of it, so it takes effort to wash and dry, and I only have so many good minutes per hour. I used up all my morning ones taking a long shower, washing my hair, and drying it. Then I threw a load of laundry in the washer, and I had to lay down for like an hour, and then I fell asleep on the couch, and then I went up to take a "real" nap in bed and slept for nearly 4 hours, without moving from the spot I fell asleep in.

I'm taking it really easy on myself. It is a relief. I feel like all the give-yourself-grace-Jamie! work I've done over the past few years is getting a real workout now. I'm not pushing to hard. I push just enough to feel it, and then I let myself be where I need to be. My sweet little body feels really separate from me right now. It is tired and sick, and it feels much older and more weary than my spirit does inside of it. But I know it is doing its best, and I am trying to honor that by letting it rest. We have a long and weary road ahead of us, and I hope that gentleness will help me endure better and more happily.

On Friday or Saturday night (I don't know which; they all run together) I had the clash of the pregnancy symptoms. I won't elaborate in detail, but there was much throwing up and other unpleasantness and I laid on the carpeted closet floor in our bathroom. It was terrible, but I have decided that though throwing up is awful and I hate it, it's okay if I have to do it. It's not the end of the world. Somehow that makes the nausea a little easier to handle. I don't have to fight my body; I can let it do what it needs to do.

I've been grasping for support and meaning and purpose from my Heavenly Father. It is so difficult for me to go through something that seems so useless. Being nauseated doesn't help my baby or my body to be healthier. It feels very pointless. I feel very useless sometimes, and disheartened, and looking in to the long long days and nights that will come before it relents is a weight on my heart. I try not to look at it, because it doesn't help, but big things like that--you catch it out of the corner of your eye sometimes, even when you're trying not to. And it sticks for a while before I remember to go back to day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.

I watched this talk from General Conference the other night, and cried, and felt a little lift. I can bear this ickyness and sadness if it is "the work God gave me to do." I don't know why He chose this kind of work, when I am so good at the kind that is productive and visible and measurable, but He has, and I am trying to keep that perspective. There are things for me to learn in this, I know. I just wish it was a little more pleasant. ;)

Tonight Steve is out with friends at a concert in town. Guster. He has been so tired. The other night while the kids were getting ready for bed, he fell asleep slumped over on the ottoman and snoozed and snored there for a good twenty or thirty minutes.

Poor love.

He has been good as his word (better) and has taken over meal planning, cooking, shopping, dishes, and lots of parenting, and he has taken good care of my heart, too. I hope I am taking care of his. That is the hardest part of this for me--harder than being still and feeling sick and never knowing what will stay in my tummy. I just hope I'm doing okay for him. I hope he still feels loved.

I miss him tonight. Part of me is very sad not to be with him and not to be able to be his date and feel like his sweetheart. But all of me is glad for him to have a break and to play and to be happy and light and not in charge of our whole little world for a bit. That can make a person tired, and I hope this will be nice for his sweet heart to get a little recharge.

Keep growing, little baby. <3

6 Weeks.

Baby turned six weeks on Friday, and the morning sickness got real.

I woke up from a deep sleep in the middle of the night and jumped out of bed because I had to throw up. I hate throwing up. But it's funny the sort of casual resignedness I took it with. Felt that telltale feeling. Got out of bed and grabbed a hair-tie from my bedside table, wrangling my hair into a ponytail as I walked to the bathroom. Quietly got rid of whatever it was that my stomach didn't agree with. (Really actually quietly. I left the bathroom door open but didn't wake Steve.)

Sometimes I need moral support, but it was just a quick awful moment and then it passed. I rinsed my mouth out and got back in bed.

Honestly it's not even the throwing up that gets to me. It's the constancy. The feeling, always, of being about-to-lose-all-my-food. I look forward to sleeping just so I don't have to think about/feel it. Unconsciousness is a very healing gift, and I am thankful for afternoon naps and a self-imposed earlier bedtime.

Unisom seems to be helping. SeaBands seem to be helping (maybe). Eating almost constantly makes a difference. (I am very tired of eating.)

Looking at Juliette and reminding myself what this is all for--another sweet little human added to our gaggle of giggly wonderful Walton babies--is helping. I believe it is going to feel worth it when I hold that new babe in my arms.

The kids have been amazing helpers. They don't know why they're helping yet, just that Mom is feeling sick and laying on the couch a lot. The big kids recently learned to clean the bathrooms, and they clean either their bathroom or the downstairs powder room every day. Gracie has been making lunches for the kids. Charlie puts Juliette to bed at nap time so I can stay downstairs on the couch. They pitch in like troopers and I am so thankful for their good attitudes and capable hands. It is making this much easier.

Steve has been wonderful, too. He always is. He's made me foods I crave, jumped in to take over kid lunches, kitchen duty, meal planning, and chores as needed. He hugs and cuddles me. We talk about the baby, and he supports my escapist needs by planning homes to build or cruises to take or whatever fun daydream is happily distracting me.

And for the first time, I am at a place where I recognize I can do some things, but not all the things I am used to doing. Before the pregnancy, I had a massive list of things I worked through each day, as well as daily tasks. Today I typed up a new list--just the things that will really matter to my well-being and our family's. Enough things to get me up off the couch and doing things, but not so many that I'll feel overwhelmed and useless and start crying. I think it helps to have some small expectations of myself to keep me moving, and to release all the other stuff so that I can focus on keeping my body and attitude in the best places.

I'm not really craving anything in particular, but baby does seem to be pleased with cheese. Annie's macaroni, Laughing Cow spreadable cheese on carrots or Wheat Thins, and grilled cheese sandwiches have all fallen into the "edible" category lately. I can eat some vegetables, which is happy! And some fruits. Mostly carrots and apples. I'll take it. As in my other pregnancies, anything made of wheat (bread, cereal, etc.) other than Wheat Thins is disgusting. Peanut butter (usually one of my favorite foods) is revolting. Like, I can't even stand the smell of it. At all. :) Also, strangely, pizza. I took one bite and knew it was a mistake.

I'm falling into a new routine. And I'm still and quiet a lot more, so I'm talking with the kids and taking time to just watch them play. It's always good when my body has to slow down, because it helps me remember to focus more on stillness and attentiveness and less on getting all the things done.

I am discouraged, but time ticks on, and this too shall pass. Here's to getting through.

It's starting.

Saturday night after dinner, I felt wrong. Just off. And I knew:

The nausea was starting.

I've been taking a preemptive anti-nausea cocktail of B6 and Unisom every night since two days after I found out I was pregnant (on the recommendation of my doctor, don't fret!) and I admit that in the back of my mind I secretly hoped that maybe this time I wouldn't get knocked down so hard with morning sickness... Or... at all?

Saturday wasn't bad. It just wasn't right. Things (like the ground beef I'd just cooked and so desperately wanted in our spaghetti sauce) were irrationally disgusting me. Aversions. And I had that wrong taste in my mouth. And I just felt kind of... icky.

I told Steve after the kids went to bed that I could feel the warning signs. My days of morning-sickness free dining were numbered. Bless his heart, he told me to get to the grocery store immediately, and buy whatever I wanted.

I walked through and picked out anything that looked delicious and/or potentially edible in the forthcoming nausea days.

The spoils included:

Dole Orange Mango juice
White Cheddar Cheez-Its
Wheat Thins
Laughing Cow spreadable cheese
Medium cheddar
Strawberry Toaster Strudels (with 30% more icing?!)
Various soups
3 pints of Ben & Jerry's (2 for me, 1 for Steve): Chocolate Fudge Brownie and The Tonight Dough

By the next morning, things were starting to taste wrong. My Dole juice was sad (but Steve happily took over, and drank it so quickly that he got a minor allergic reaction to the mango, which usually only happens when he eats the actual fruit).

And its gotten slowly worse over the course of this week. First it was just in waves, but today it has been pretty much all day long.

After we dropped Charlie off at preschool, Juliette and I made pilgrimages to CVS and Trader Joe's, where I picked up Sea Bands (CVS) and copious amounts of ginger flavored things (ginger, crystallized ginger, ginger mints, and triple ginger snaps) as well as things my crazy pregnant body thinks I want to eat: two types of meatballs, some chicken sausage, and a package of frozen corn dogs. I comfort myself that these are all about as healthy as they can be, since they at least came from Trader Joe's.

So I'm officially morning sick. It's sad and I'm not a fan, but I'm trying to keep my eye on the big picture: this is an infinitesimally small effort on my part when I consider that the end product of an uncomfortable pregnancy is a brand new beautiful human life. A brand new Walton baby to love.

Do Sea Bands actually work?

Does ginger truly have anti-emetic properties?

Will I need to add Zofran to my already pill-heavy evening medicating routine?

And will I ever get the Sourdough Jack burger that I have been irrationally but powerfully craving for the past three days?!?! (The nearest Jack in the box is 1 hour away! Woe!)

The answers to these questions (and more!) that you didn't ask will be revealed in the coming weeks!