Week 29: Critical Mass

I'm going to admit right off that I never, ever took a physics class, so it is possible that I am using the term "critical mass" incorrectly. But I'm going to go ahead and take some liberties with it because the words "critical" and "mass" are pretty much describing what's going on around my middle. On Friday, after months of being pleasantly surprised that I was having little to no back pain--suddenly: CRITICAL MASS. Big baby. Small mama. Third trimester. It's happening: back pain and difficulty standing for long periods of time.

Also, a couple times I almost tipped over! : O

All this makes sense, because my Babycenter app assures me that this little bun is 17 inches long (!!!) and about 3lbs (!!!). And since she is a Walton baby, she may be a little bigger than that by now. She is not a crazy one so far--she has calm times of day where I just feel her shifting and fidgeting, and busy times when she is kicking and punching and doing somersaults. She's usually the most active in the evening, which is funny because when Steve and I lay down for bed she usually punches him in the back for a bit.

My brain/soul are doing a little better. Steve reminded me gently that feeling overwhelmed and low are par for the course during my third trimesters. We've done it before, we can do it again. But it is definitely hard to face the possibility of months more feeling panicky/anxious/depressed at this level.

Neil Gaiman is quoted as saying, "I like stories about women who save themselves." I love that as an idea. I love the concept that anyone can save themselves. But the older I grow, the more chances I have to recognize that sometimes the only way to "save yourself" is to not try to do it alone, to not do it yourself. To ask for help. It's been a big lesson for me this pregnancy. There's nothing wrong with it. In fact, asking for and accepting help is one of the best ways to form deeper and more meaningful relationships. It's laying yourself bare. It's allowing others to prove their strength to themselves by letting them share their gifts and talents. It's showing humility and gratitude and humanity that makes other people feel better when they reach their own low points.

When I get myself up and going again, when I'm writing more and working more and mothering better and my hormones and brain chemicals are less whacked out and I've just got things a lot more together--when that happens and you hit a low point where you feel like there is just nothing left to keep you going, you remember that I felt this right now. At this happy, exciting time of moving, growing up a little more, expecting a beautiful baby, my heart has felt worn and broken and I have felt lonely and lost, anxious about my future, grappling with a sometimes almost physically paralyzing anxiety. You remember that, okay? Because after that part, it gets better again. I know its going to get better again. (And I even got a little reminder in my instagram feed last week.)

And while I don't feel great, I feel a little less overwhelmed. I asked for help, and tried to use my resources:

I asked my doctor if we could increase my dosage of Lexapro, and she and my OB agreed that yes, that would be a good idea. We will see if that helps, but its good to have a couple of lifeboat options, and that seemed like a logical place to start based on my history.

I scheduled a couple last appointments with my wonderful counselor, who totally gets me. Last week we talked about how my traumatic experiences during Charlie's birth (stuck baby, nurse pushing on my belly when I was told to STOP PUSHING, lots of lost blood, low APGAR, baby taken away for observation) was shaping my imaginings of what this birth could be like. They were pretty violent and distressing. She helped me work on reframing, and that has been helping.

I bravely called an OB office in Texas and scheduled an appointment with a new doctor. (And had a panic attack while I did it, but whatever. Done is done, even if you have a panic attack.)

I emailed a therapist friend from church and asked about coping techniques for panic attacks.

I tried to get to the gym as often as possible--a break from the kids (and for the kids--they love playing there), endorphins (yay!), and cardio and strength training to prepare myself a little more to keep carrying this heavy little lovely.

And Friday we just had a perfect family day. We took the kids to the pool after quiet time. The water was perfect and Steve launched the big kids into the air over and over. Juliette finally got confident enough to try some swimming in her floatie without holding someone's hand and kicked all around the pool. And in the last few minutes of swimming the sky opened up and a summer storm came down on us. We waited a few minutes under an umbrella and then decided we already wet, wearing flipflops, and perfectly dressed for a walk in the rain. So we walked home and splashed in a million puddles and laughed so hard and were entirely soaked and happy when we got back to the apartment.

And that night Steve and I cleaned ourselves up and got all fancy, left the kids with a babysitter (thanks Mandy!) and joined a huge gathering of his colleagues for residency graduation.

I remember being pregnant with Juliette at the very beginning of residency, and how awed we were that she (still gestating!) would be the same age as Charlie was then (2.5) by the time Steve graduated. It seemed so far away but it went by SO quickly.

Baby girl, when you read this know that you were there (in bump form anyway) for the culmination of your Daddy's long and challenging and wonderful medical education. He did an AWESOME job, little one. You would be so proud. And he is so, so excited to meet you. We keep talking about how cozy you will be, and how sweet it will be to touch your soft little baby-fuzzed head. I'm hanging in for you, for those moments when we get to cuddle up together in just a few months. We're in this together, okay? And you've got a whole team of siblings eagerly awaiting your arrival. (Charlie especially gives you multiple hugs everyday.) Keep on keeping on, and I will, too.   xo

~

p.s. I had my final doctor visit in week 29 and forgot to add it. It was a quick one: tummy measured, urine sampled, quick chat with a doctor, and the distribution of my medical record print-outs so I'd have something to take with me to San Antonio. Stats were as follows:

Stats (as of doctor appt):
Weeks pregnant: 29 weeks, 4 days
Baby's fruit/food size: Eggplant / Butternut Squash
Net weight gain: 26 lbs
Doctor visits: 7
Cups peed in: 7
Blood draws: 5
Ultrasounds: 6

Week 28: Clinging

My body + brain have never been above throwing curve balls into the mix. We are about two weeks out from packing up our apartment in NC, road tripping with the kids for four days, and setting up in a new (temporary) apartment in San Antonio, Texas. I'm 28 weeks pregnant, pretty much constantly exhausted, 20 weeks in to being nauseated (though much less so than the first trimester, thank goodness!) and my hormones are almost certainly kicking in to high gear. I'm Braxton-Hicks-ing at least once an hour. My sides are starting to get sore from holding baby girl's home in place. And I'm growing out of clothes that fit in my previous pregnancies.

So I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that my clinical depression and anxiety have leapt to unconscionable levels, but I have to admit--I've been surprised. I've been trying to eat better, sleep more, exercise regularly. I've taken everything but the essentials off my to-do list. I'm trying to live in the moment, release my worries about the upcoming months, and focus doing one task at a time and on enjoying right now. I've been praying and praying and praying.

But still this dread plagues me. This heavy shroud of darkness sweeping in towards me from the horizon. It doesn't seem to help that I know rationally that it isn't real. And the anxiety. I struggle to fall asleep, my body always restless, my brain filled with terrible possibilities, my dreams upsetting and unsettling.

I'm having panic attacks, which I can't remember having more than a few times in my entire life up to this point. Last week I had three. This morning I've been trying to just live through a long, stretched out one. Trying to accept, not fight. Trying to breathe when it feels like I can't get enough oxygen into my body. Trying to be a functional-enough mom to my littles while Steve works.

I had a similar experience when I was pregnant with Juliette, but I didn't recognize it for what it was. So now I've got a request in to my doctor to tweak with my medication (she needs my OB's approval, which I hope to get this week) and my fingers crossed that if they do change my dosage, it will make a difference. Or that something else will make a difference.

Our baby girl is strong and wiggly, and measuring large. I feel her all the time , but she is especially active in the afternoon and evening. I'm trying to remember the way I felt when Juliette was born: how I thought If only I'd known it was YOU, it would have been so much easier to endure well! I'm trying to trust that that feeling will surge back through me when I meet this new little girl. That maybe then I'll understand the purpose of the pain and the fear and the seemingly endless stretches of time spent waiting, feeling alone, wondering if I can get through the next wave that crashes down inside my heart.

Week 27: Dr. Appt + What People are Saying

Three months to go, and my baby bump is NO JOKE. In the last few weeks, the commentary and expectation from strangers and casual acquaintances has increased significantly.

At church:

"You're any day now, aren't you?!"

and

"Are you carrying twins???"

At the gym:

"How much longer do you have?"

and

"Girl, you're about to pop!!!"

At the pool, with the other three kiddos in tow:

"Is this your last?"

I know some (most?) pregnant women get offended by these types of comments, but I guess I can see where everyone is coming from. I look about the same as a girl from our ward did the day before she delivered. Maybe bigger. And also, I'm kind of a big believer in the idea that we choose to be offended. None of these people was meaning to be rude. So I save my irritation/anger for stuff that really ticks me off, like inconsiderate drivers and Time Warner Cable.

Another doctor appointment has come and gone--the second-to-last one before we move. When my doctor asked me how I was I told her how worried I was about all the change and transition coming up in the next month. She took it all to heart and kept hugging me throughout the appointment.

It was my glucola visit! It was just as terrible and nauseating as I remembered, though I did request the orange this time, which always helps. Orange is better than fruit punch. That day they stuck me thrice on the left arm: once on this way over-bandaged finger for an iron test (below), once in the crook of my elbow where they extracted three vials of blood to check for gestational diabetes, and a third time to give me a vaccination.

The nasty power-punch of sugar threw me off all day and I felt queasier than usual. But the phlebotomist thought it was funny when I promised to "try not to wuss out on [her]" while she drew my blood, so that helped. :)

The rest of the week was a blur! We had a pre-con phone conference with our contractor in TX (are we really building a house?!), lots of kiddo swimming lessons, Steve's last night at the DEAC volunteer clinic, Gracie's last day of school, and a trip to Richmond for Steve's 3rd Tough Mudder race. Super busy, super fun, and a great way to usher in the summertime.

Stats (as of doctor appt):
Weeks pregnant: 26 weeks, 3 days
Baby's fruit/food size: Head of Lettuce
Net weight gain: 20 lbs
Doctor visits: 6
Cups peed in: 6
Blood draws: 5
Ultrasounds: 6

Weeks 25 + 26: Lightning

Gracie-loo took my 26 week photo for me. I almost photoshopped out the sock in the doorway, but I decided against it. Socks on the floor are pretty representative of our household at this stage of life. NOT because I am pregnant, but because that's just where everyone who's not me puts socks. Its hard to write that without coming off as a little mom-bitter haha. Oh well. Suffice it to say: the sock stays.

These last two weeks have been heavy and hard. Steve's worked 11 shifts in a row with only one day off. He's so tired he keeps falling asleep on the couch (which is not his jam) at random intervals. Its wearing on him to say the least. Tonight is his last shift in this run, and then things will settle down a bit as far as work goes.

And for me, this puts my focus squarely on trying to keep it together enough that the kids and Steve are fed and feeling loved. It sounds so easy, but it feels so hard. Every load of laundry, every half hour spent planning meals, every evening cooking and making sure my littles get scriptures, prayers, vitamins and medicines before bed: it all takes an incredible force of will. Because I am tired. And my heart is heavy. And I miss my sweetheart.

One night this week Juliette started bawling at the kitchen table and then projectile vomited right onto her dinner plate, still untouched and full of food. Gracie dove under the table like she was doing an earthquake drill. Charlie just wanted to talk about throw-up. I didn't panic or even feel anything, really. I just cleaned up my girl and put her to bed, cleaned up the table and ate with the big kids. I'm feeling again that hard and weighty part of motherhood: that I have to just do it, because there's no one else there to do it for me.

Last night when I lay in bed alone trying to fall asleep, I felt this big blockage in my heart: this massive black boulder of CAN'T. I can't do this. I can't do 14 more weeks, progressively harder as I get heavier and more tired, still feeling sort of sick even with gum in my mouth. I can't take care of my babies alone like this while Steve starts work at a new place (which is going to be hard for him because new stuff just feels SO BIG, you know?) in a city where I know virtually no one. How can I make new friends when I can barely take care of myself and my family? How will I find someone to look after my kids when I go into labor? How can I take on the impossibly terrifying challenge of delivering--which, since Charlie's scary birth, has stricken my vulnerable heart--in a hospital I've never seen, with doctors who have only known me for a few weeks? I can't do those things, when even the logistics of getting the kids to the pool/library/grocery store in my current state overwhelm my brain. Everything feels dark and huge and impossible.

I lay there in our room and tried to pray about all this. Rain was pouring down outside and the blinds kept lighting up with lightning flashes, again and again. I didn't know where to start. I asked Him to carry me. I don't know how He will. The big black boulder hasn't gone away. I know He will get me through, one day at a time.

But I wish it felt easier. I wish it felt more purposeful. I wish there was someone beside me all the time, whispering in my ear, "You're okay. You'll stay okay. This is all on purpose, and it is all good." Maybe there is, but so far, I can't hear it.

Week 24: Jetsetting

This is just a nice selfie of me. Where I don't look tired. Because I'm not. Because this picture was taken ON VACAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

Earlier this month the babes and I cashed in on my (fantastic) Christmas gift from Steve: a trip to see my med-school bestie! I hopped on a plane with a backpack loaded down with books and snacks (ALL FOR ME!) and many hours later I was hugging my Suzi in the PHX airport. And the fun started right there. We didn't even go home--we went straight to In'n'Out for dinner, followed by splitting a delish Biscoff + strawberry topped dessert at Waffle Love. (If you live near one, go get one in my name. I'll take the calories for you. I'll just hide them in here:)

For five days we shopped! (Old Navy! H&M! Charming Charlie! Anywhere we wanted at the Scottsdale Mall! And Nordstroms' Last Chance, where I got these two pairs of flats that retail for about $100/pair for $35!)

We ate! (Kneaders! In'n'Out! Waffle Love! Paradise Bakery! Sauce! The Soda Shop! Cafe Rio!) 

We met up with friends (hi Amanda!), got pedicures, and saw not one but TWO movies! (And they were both good!)

We watched good TV (all of season 1 of Grantchester, and a new version of And Then There Were None that had us really jumpy).

I took lots of naps and ate lots of ice.

I called/texted/sent selfies to Steve so he knew the baby bump and I were okay.

And when I got to the airport at home (after promising to try to make this a repeat occasion--next year, maybe?!) all three of my babies wrapped their cute arms around me at once and I just felt filled up with gratitude to have these loves of my life. (Who all, miraculously, felt worth the effort of pregnancy when I help them at birth--and that reminded me that this one will, too.)

Best girl trip ever. <3

Week 23: Second Trimester Living

My second trimester lifestyle--while, okay, still a lot harder than non-pregnant life--is a million, billion times better than the first. Honestly, I am still in denial about the first trimester having happened. I cannot think about it. I cannot write about it. I do not want to look at pictures from it. It. Was. Terrible.

Because I'm teeny-tiny, I am already feeling the physical weight take its toll on me as I carry this cute girl around. So the second trimester is all about minimizing everything, bumping into things with my belly, and striving for as much 1) movement and 2) ease of life as possible. THANKFULLY THANKFULLY the nausea is almost nil now, though my mouth still tastes bad (normal pregnancy thing per the doc--darn) so I go through a lot of chewing gum. Like a Costco pack a month. My bod is definitely feeling heavier, my belly has more than popped out, and someone at church yesterday asked me when I was due--clearly expecting it to be sooner than September. #still17weeksleft

Now that I've hashtagged that I'm thinking about how dorky/ridiculous/old fashioned  hashtagging will probably be by the time this baby girl reads the story of my pregnancy with her in book form. I guess its just one of those things she can be thankful she missed, like how I'm glad I didn't have to do 80's hair.

This evening I'm sitting on my blue chair in our (apartment master) bedroom again, shouting to Charlie (because it is after bedtime and I am off duty as far as, you know, parenting while standing up/moving/walking) to stop freaking out about how the clock in his room is one minute different than the clock in Gracie's room. Steve's gone out to grab us Chipotle (second trimester life: we've both thrown our hands up and given up on cooking dinner every night). He'll be back soon and we'll eat burritos and watch Netflix and that will be happy.

(And then I took a hiatus from writing this post for like a week and a half.)

Other second trimester stuff?

Ice. Again. (Still?) Obssessed with ice. Chewing some right now. Carefully. Daydreaming about buying a whole bag of Sonic ice to shove into our teeny apartment-refrigerator. Can't stop, won't stop.

Exercise: It happens now! And only once have I climbed right in bed afterward and started eating Ben + Jerry's ice cream. (I feel zero guilt about this.)

Belly buttons! We talk about them a lot. Charlie in particular has a lot of belly-button-related inquiries. He's still trying to grasp the way the umbilical cord works for the baby, and he's fixated with how my belly button sticks out (you can totes see it through my shirt already) and likes to poke it. (I do not like this. Belly buttons are not meant to be touched.)

Peeing: At least twice per night. The last time is usually around 4:30, and there is this bird in the parking lot who is already singing by then even though it is still dark. Not cool, bird.

Also a lot a lot a lot during the day. Because hydration is my jam. Also ice.

Drive through groceries! This is the best thing ever for a tired pregnant mama with a van full of (hungry) children. For $17 a month, you can order whatever you want online from Harris Teeter and they will SHOP FOR YOU, and when you drive over, and THEY WILL BRING IT TO YOUR CAR.

I do not have to push a cart. I do not even have to get out of the air conditioned driver's seat--they bring out a tablet thing so I can pay the bill. This is literally heavenly to me. And I know what literally means.

Oh yeah--and sometimes it rains. And I still don't have to get out.

See the gum clutched desperately between my teeth? ;)

As long-time in-school/residency poorsies, $17 counts as a lot of dollars to us. But right now? TOTALLY WORTH IT. I would pay more. (But don't tell them.)

Styes. Yep. Again. Though this time they are fewer and much further between--and I haven't hit Quasimodo status.

Naps: 1-2 hours. Everyday. Necessary. Wonderful.

Hunger. I'm hungry. Really hungry. :)

Crying. Okay, this might be the weirdest thing--I'm not really crying much. I might even be crying less than I do when I'm not pregnant. I'm totally cool with this, but, you know, for a girl who cries over that ASPCA commercial (you know, the Sarah McLauchlan one with the sad puppies?) its... unexpected.

Clothes: I'm growing out of them. Here's the stack that got put away last week. Thank goodness for maxi dresses--I have a feeling they might be all I've got left by the end of this. :)

One-floor life. So, other than having to climb a set of stairs to get from the car to the door, apartment-living is kind of perfect for a pregnant woman. Everything is on one level--no up and down to do laundry, check what the kids are up to, or get a brownie and glass of milk from the kitchen to go eat in my bed while I read. It's basically ideal.

ALSO! AT THIS APARTMENT, SOMEONE COMES BY YOUR FRONT DOOR EVERY WEEKDAY AND TAKES OUT YOUR GARBAGE FOR YOU!!!! WHAT?!?!?!?

That alone would make it worth it. :)

22 Weeks: A Dr. Visit and The Summer of Moving

It's kind of crazy how quickly things change, isn't it? Even planned things, things you've known about for months like a move or taking a final or something--its like for months you're planning and then suddenly its this blur of happening.

This time last week we were in our little house on Shillington with a few boxes packed. Today I'm sitting in my beloved blue armchair in the cozy master of our temporary apartment, exhausted and still only halfway (I hope?) through unpacking.

Rest and 10 minute breaks have been my good friends.

We have moved every single time I have been pregnant (1 week before Gracie was born, during the 1st trimester of Charlie, and in the 2nd trimester with Juliette), but this is the first time we will tackle 3 moves in just about as many months. We're here in the apartment in Winston while Steve finishes up PGY3 (final year of residency) and the older kiddos finish 2nd grade/preschool. The first week of July we'll make the trek to San Antonio, and live in another apartment there while the house we've commissioned (HOORAY!) is built. And then in the weeks just before or just after baby girl's arrival (depending on when she comes and how fast Texan builders build) we'll be moving for the third time, into our new Texas home.

All this is why I've unofficially dubbed these next few months as "The Summer of Moving."

Anyway, it definitely wore us all out--even the toddler.

But we're happy to be getting settled in our little apartment (which has a POOL!), AND that the next time we move, the military is going to come right over here and pack all our stuff up. #winning

Two Fridays ago, just before Mother's Day, we hit the 22 week mark with this cute and wiggly little lady. She is reportedly the size of a "small spaghetti squash," and according to the ultrasound we had on Monday of this week, she weighs 1 pound, 3 oz. That's no small baby to fit in a tiny-house mama, which is probably why I've suddenly started noticing that my belly runs in to everything now--the bathroom counter, the washing machine, and poor Juliette's noggin. (I've almost knocked her over a few times now.)

Perhaps the very best part of Monday's visit, though, was discovering that after four months, the SCH is gone! No more hemorrhage! Seeing the relief and joy on Steve's face when I told him almost hurt my heart. It's got to be hard to be weighed down the the burden of knowledge--his job means he knows all the "what ifs" that go along with anything remotely scary in pregnancy. But he's so good at hiding it that I didn't know he was still so worried.

There aren't words, really, to express how glad I am that this thing has healed up and our baby has a safer home in my belly now.

The first few months of this year were so hard. The illness, the bleeding, the constant worry, the uncertainty of where our path was taking us. I'm not sure of all the whys yet--what the greater point of that dark time for my soul was--but I am seeing now the beauty Heavenly Father is unfolding for us. There are still miles to go--literal and figurative--before we reach a point of more rest and a little more ease, but I am so thankful for the sunshine that is beginning to refill my heart. I certainly appreciate it more now than I did before.

That said... the refiner's fire still isn't my favorite. ;)

xo,

Jamie

p.s.

Stats (as of doctor appt):
Weeks pregnant: 22 weeks, 3 days
Baby's fruit/food size: Small spaghetti squash
Net weight gain: 16 lbs
Doctor visits: 5
Cups peed in: 6
Blood draws: 4
Ultrasounds: 6