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
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Sunday, February 21, 2016
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.
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.
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. :)
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. :)
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
The Longest Day
Yesterday I started bleeding again. A lot. A horrifying amount.
I know this isn't a beautiful thing to write about, and I don't want to drag you into details you don't care to hear. But it was terrifying.
For a week and a half, since they initially diagnosed a subchorionic hemorrhage (which they were pretty sure was not serious), I'd been keeping an eye on things as instructed. Knowing I was supposed to just give it time to heal, but still feeling unsettled by signs that it hadn't yet. Things seemed about 90% good from what I could tell. And then yesterday morning suddenly it wasn't. It was like a nightmare.
We called the on-call nurse immediately. She thought we should get another scan, but the office wasn't going to be open until 10am because of snow the previous day. So she sent me to bed to rest.
10am rolled around, and the opening time had moved back to 1pm.
The wait was long. Endless. Questions and heartbreaking what-ifs flooding my brain. Sometimes I slept. Mostly I didn't.
Because of a very gracious co-worker, Steve was home to wait with me and look after the kids. He worked on study questions all morning and into the afternoon, trying to keep his brain occupied. He got through hundreds of them.
The big kids played, blissfully unaware of our worry.
Finally a little before 1pm the nurse called me back. She scheduled us for a quick scan at 3pm. A few more hours of waiting and we'd know, good news or bad.
I texted Emily, who lives nearby and has children all our kids' ages, and asked if she could take over our little crew while I got checked out. I wanted Steve with me, and she leapt at the chance to help out. So at 2:30 we piled the family into the car and dropped the kiddos with the Evans.
I found I was much calmer with Steve beside me in the waiting room. The last time I went I'd gone through a dozen scenarios in my mind. Thought about having to explain to the kids if we lost our baby. About going forward with life without that sweet, growing baby in our future. Thought about so many things that hurt so very much. I'd sat and cried alone in the waiting room outside the ultrasound room. With Steve... well, it was better to be together.
And then, even with the bleeding, there was a heartbeat on the screen. Our little one, still growing strong in that tiny home inside my belly. Somehow safe from the bleeding. Somehow still ours for here, for now.
I know this isn't a beautiful thing to write about, and I don't want to drag you into details you don't care to hear. But it was terrifying.
For a week and a half, since they initially diagnosed a subchorionic hemorrhage (which they were pretty sure was not serious), I'd been keeping an eye on things as instructed. Knowing I was supposed to just give it time to heal, but still feeling unsettled by signs that it hadn't yet. Things seemed about 90% good from what I could tell. And then yesterday morning suddenly it wasn't. It was like a nightmare.
We called the on-call nurse immediately. She thought we should get another scan, but the office wasn't going to be open until 10am because of snow the previous day. So she sent me to bed to rest.
10am rolled around, and the opening time had moved back to 1pm.
The wait was long. Endless. Questions and heartbreaking what-ifs flooding my brain. Sometimes I slept. Mostly I didn't.
Because of a very gracious co-worker, Steve was home to wait with me and look after the kids. He worked on study questions all morning and into the afternoon, trying to keep his brain occupied. He got through hundreds of them.
The big kids played, blissfully unaware of our worry.
Finally a little before 1pm the nurse called me back. She scheduled us for a quick scan at 3pm. A few more hours of waiting and we'd know, good news or bad.
I texted Emily, who lives nearby and has children all our kids' ages, and asked if she could take over our little crew while I got checked out. I wanted Steve with me, and she leapt at the chance to help out. So at 2:30 we piled the family into the car and dropped the kiddos with the Evans.
I found I was much calmer with Steve beside me in the waiting room. The last time I went I'd gone through a dozen scenarios in my mind. Thought about having to explain to the kids if we lost our baby. About going forward with life without that sweet, growing baby in our future. Thought about so many things that hurt so very much. I'd sat and cried alone in the waiting room outside the ultrasound room. With Steve... well, it was better to be together.
And then, even with the bleeding, there was a heartbeat on the screen. Our little one, still growing strong in that tiny home inside my belly. Somehow safe from the bleeding. Somehow still ours for here, for now.
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.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
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:
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.
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!"
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.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
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.
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.
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.
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.
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