So What! Wednesday

This week I'm saying So What! if...

I try to come up with the perks of having my husband gone all week.  They go something like this...I love when Paul is away because I know I won't fall into the toilet when I wake to pee at every God forsaken hour of the night.  {This actually happened Sunday night.  I fell butt first in my toilet b/c *someone* didn't put the damn seat down}. 

I have recently discovered that I can put Elena's hair in pigtails and am OBSESSED with doing her hair now.  It is seriously the cutest thing ever. 

I want to be a Braverman sometimes.  It must be so fun to have such a big, close-knit family all living so close.  

I've sucked at blogging lately.  I have so much I want to share but I have no mojo to do a damn thing in my "free time" besides nap, play Scramble with friends, nap, and watch reality TV. 

None of my family or friends read this blog.  Or really know about it for that matter.  Except maybe my sister in law, but she's too busy to read these days.  I dunno why.  I guess I'm sort of embarrased, like it's narcissistic of me.  Writing all about me and expecting people to want to read it?  Am I weird?

I really need to update my blog to include a Nav bar and some other things but it's just another thing not getting checked off on my Things to Not Do Because I'm a lazy preggo sloth Do List.

I'm scared to have a boy.  I always imagined myself as a boy mom.  My first miscarriage was a boy.  I babysat TONS of boys.  I have had a boy's name forever.  But now?  After having a girl?  And knowing girls?  Boys and balls and peepees scare me!

All I want right now is cold fresh fruit like juicy oranges, crisp grapes, or sweet, drippy melon.  NONE of which I have in my fridge. 

I didn't watch the Presidential Inauguration.  For no reason really.  I just didn't .

I'm excited about actually being excited to take Elena to her tumbling class tomorrow.  She doesn't do great with structured activities but she had a blast last week!

I'm such a sap that I cried during the amusement park date on the Bachelor.  I mean, really ABC?  With those friends getting to meet and them dancing and singing the words to the song?  Too much for this pregnant lady.

I miss my NJ plates.  After living in Ohio for almost a year, we finally got OH plates.  I feel like I don't get that automatic "Ahh, she's from Jersey" pass now when I'm driving.  I told Paul I wanted vanity plates that said FROMJRSY or something equally as cheesy and obnoxious.  Kidding.  Sort of. 

That's all I got, folks....Looking forward to seeing what you are all So What!ing this week! 

9 weeks

So I intended to post this on Saturday when I was actually 9 weeks but it obviously didn't happen.  In fact, it's pretty much a miracle that it's even happening now, considering my getting-things-done-o-meter is still on empty.  But, documenting this pregnancy is important to me and keeping up with my blog is, as well, so I'm getting it done.  I've got the Bachelor on for motivation.  Nothing like a bunch of bikini clad crazies crying over beach volleyball to make you feel capable.

This week was pretty much the same as the last, with the exception that Elena and I actually left the house...which was great for our cabin fever.  I still have a cough, but overall we are both feeling so much better.  I find that if I get out and do something, breaking up the day a bit, we are both much happier.   I feel like a crappy, lazy Mom otherwise and  it's terrible.  I haven't been the best playmate for her lately so it was good to get her out of the house.  Must remember that when I feel like I have no energy to do a damn thing. 

My progesterone shots are my biggest complaint this week.  I am so grateful that I'm still taking them.  It means I'm pregnant and it's sustaining this growing life inside of me.  But for some reason, this time around, they are awful.  I can hardly walk and my lower back just sort of blends into my butt because the lumps are so big.  They don't hurt going in, it's the afterburn.  Like two dead legs but in your butt.  I've been having the nurse at my OB do them when Paul is away because I just couldn't do them myself any longer.  It's a huge waste of time but it's the only choice I've got at the moment.  My last shots are on February 2nd.  Holler.

Per the usual, I count down the days until Paul comes home.  He is such a big help when he's here.  Just someone else to play with Elena, change her diaper, fold laundry, take out the trash.  He really is a doer and doesn't stop the entire time he's home.  I'm very lucky.  I cried today when he left and I felt bad, knowing it's hard enough on him to leave us as it is.  But it's hard.  I hate goodbyes.

My belly feels a little bigger this week.  I haven't gained any weight but my pooch is sticking out a little bit more.  I can't wait until it looks like a cute baby belly and not just a spare tire sort of gut thingy.  I'm living in my leggings, yoga pants, and skinny jeans, which are nice and stretchy, so hopefully they fit a while longer.

Food is still unappealing when I think of it.  I miss craving and enjoying things like guacamole and coffee.  I've survived this week on a gross combo of veggie subs from Subway with lots of vinegar or Spagettio-o's.  With meatballs.  Cue vomiting.  I know.  This is coming from someone who was a vegetarian for 11 years and still is weird with meat. I also load it with parmeasan cheese.  Not sure but I think it makes me feel like it's less Honey Boo Boo more gourmet that way.   I've also been able to start eating ice cream this week.  High fives all around. Peanut Butter Panic, to be exact.  It's reaaaaaallll good.  Peanut butter and Jelly is still my friend, too, and I'm pretty sure mainlining OJ is in my future at the rate I'm drinking it. 

I'm excited to meet my new OB this week.  Have my first "real" appointment Thursday! 

Nursing a hangover from the Sunday Night Blues

The weekends are so hard to say goodbye to lately.

I remember as a kid, I'd get that sick feeling in my belly on Sunday night, knowing I had to wake up for school the next morning.  A whole week ahead of waking up early and nights filled with homework.  Once Monday was over and I was in the swing of things, that dreadful feeling disappeared and shelved itself.  At least until the following Sunday night.


As an adult, when I was working full time, it was no different.  After Paul and I would finish up our Sunday night shows, we'd look at each other and grimace--The Sunday Night Blues--time to saddle up for another week of work.  This sort of faded when Elena was born and I became a stay at home mom.  I wasn't worrying about deadlines, grading papers, bulletin boards, my students.  Sure I had other things to worry about, but not having to "clock in" somewhere definitely dialed down my Sunday night anxiety.

I have loved being able to be a stay at home mom.  It is something I never in a million years believed would be possible.  When Paul was offered this promotion---moving us 500+ miles from home---I told him I'd move anywhere to be able to stay home with my baby.  That was and still is the truth.

I love waking up to this sweet face everyday.  Even when I'm hating on a Monday. 

Welp, here I am.  Struggling with this Monday.  Nursing a hangover from the Sunday Night Blues.  They're sort of back.  I suppose it makes sense.  I've been in a state of constant exhaustion and sickness with this pregnancy and have just felt less that good in most aspects. I'm trying really hard not to complain, but this is my little space to be real and tell it like it is.  So to be frank, I feel like shit. 

Even though I may still feel like crap even over the weekend I have one saving grace.  His name is Paul.  Ah yes, my husband.  My husband who travels all week.  Every week.  Monday through Thursday.  So when the weekend rolls around and I know I have an extra set of hands?  Someone to share the load with?  Another adult to talk to?  I want to hold on to the weekend for dear life.  Weekends have become my salvation. Even though we aren't doing anything spectacular.  Just being together.  As a family.  That's what makes my heart feel whole.  So when Monday creeps up on me and I know I'll be left to my own devices as a tired, pukey Mama with a fiercely independent and stubborn little girl...those Sunday Night Blues rear their ugly head. 

I don't know how single moms do it.  I am essentially a single mom in some regard, right?  Monday through Thursday, at least.  And I'm "doing it" I guess, right?  My child is fed, bathed, and loved every day.  So yeah, I am doing it.  I mean, I suppose so, but it's still freaking hard.  Especially when I don't have the energy to be the Mom I want to be.  The Mom I should be for my daughter.  I know this feeling of queasy exhaustion will pass.  It will and this will seem silly.

But I don't want to wait for it to pass.  I want to stop wishing away the week just for the weekend, when I have all this precious time with my crazy toddler sweet little girl.  It's time to stop complaining and put on my big girl britches.  I decided to try and combat my Sunday Night Blues hangover by pushing through the exhaustion. This Monday, today,  I woke up before Elena, who slept until 9:00, bless her heart.  I showered, blow dried my hair, put on make-up, and even dressed in something other than yoga pants.  This is huge, people.  Huge.  I left the house with *both* of us ready at 10:00 and headed to a play date with my Meet Up group at a local Graeter's.

What a difference.  Do I still feel sick and tired?  Yup.  But, I don't feel so depressed about being sick and tired because I didn't just sit around feeling sick and tired.  Make sense?  It was great to be around other people.  Awesome to see some of the new friends I've made.  Fun for Elena to socialize for a change and burn off some energy.

I've realized that despite not wanting to do much of anything, it's necessary.  Even one outing a day.  So, I've committed to story time tomorrow at 10am, a Tumble Tots class Wednesday at 10:45, and a playdate with my playgroup Wednesday afternoon.  Thursday I'll focus on cooking and cleaning for Paul's return home and another great weekend with my family.

And how could Monday *not* be a day to look forward to now that The Bachelor is back??? 

I can't possibly be the only one who gets The Sunday Night blues, can I?  Make a girl feel better and tell me how you cope with them!

8 weeks

I wish I knew how to eliminate the shadow by my face :(

We had our 8 week ultrasound yesterday.  It's amazing to see how much you've grown in only 2 weeks, little one!  You look less like a lima bean and more like a teddy graham or gummy bear.  Daddy says you look like a boy.

What a blessing to be able to see your flickering heart and to hear it's strong beat...Music to our ears.  This appointment was strictly for an u/s, which was at the request of my RE back in NJ, since IVF mamas generally aren't released to regular OB/GYNS so soon.  Our ultrasound tech was so friendly...seems to be the trend out here in the mid-west.  I'm not complaining.   She was actually the one who suggested we take a video of the heartbeat.

I also had one of the nurses, who was equally as sweet, take a look at my backside since my injection sites are recently super sore, bruised, and even swollen.  My hypochondriac self was fearing I had an abscess or something and was going to go into septic shock.  I know, I know.  I can be a little dramatic sometimes.  I'm pretty sure giving myself the injections last week since Paul was away was the cause for my hurting hiney.  The nurse said I was more than welcome to come in every morning and have one of them administer the shot.  Seriously?  So sweet.  And considering Paul is gone Monday-Thursday, I may just take them up on that offer!

I'm feeling pretty much the same as I've felt since week 6.  Nauseous, but not terribly.  Just a queasy, nothing sounds appealing sort of upset stomach.  I've learned that if I stay on top of eating, it isn't as bad.  The only problem is finding something that sounds appetizing.  Just like with Elena, I have no desire for my once beloved morning coffee.  The thought of it actually repulses me.  Instead, I have to have a nice cold glass of OJ.  I've been surviving on carbs for the most part and anything that I used to eat as a twelve year old.  Think bagel bites, Apple Jacks, Sour Patch Kids, and Pop Tarts. I'm praying that I start craving salads or protein soon.  I gained 37 lbs with Elena, and would like to aim for 25-30lbs with this pregnancy, which is the recommendation for my BMI.  Gulp. 

Unlike my pregnancy with Elena, this time I am extremely exhausted.  Like no energy whatsoever.  Sloth.  Waste of space.  Lazy piece of shit, basically.  It's a chore to do most anything. I thank my lucky stars my child sleeps through the nighT, generally until 8:30.  I'm not dealing well with the lack of ambition and motivation.  Maybe it's having a toddler to keep up with?  I don't know.  I'm hoping that burst of energy meets up with me at the start of my 2nd trimester! At least it's the winter so I don't feel as guilty doing nothing but staying in the house and playing all day. 

Overall, I am just feeling incredibly blessed and thankful.  So grateful that this FET worked and so beyond excited that Elena is going to be a big sister.  All of our immediate family and close friends know, and of course you all...my favorite internet strangers!  We look forward to 12 weeks when we'll share our news with the rest of our extended family and friends.  Paul has been dying to tell some of his work peeps.  He is so excited.

Really excited to be able to document and share this pregnancy on my blog.  It makes me sad that I didn't do the same for Elena, but my heart and mind were a lot more fragile and fearful at that time, as I shared in this post about how we make babies.  

That's all for now.  I'll get to meet my OB for the first time on the 24th at my 10 week appointment. 
Looking forward to it...so far, I'm really liking the practice that I chose. 

On Breastfeeding: A letter to my baby

When I was pregnant with Elena I worried that I wouldn't be able to breastfeed her.  I had always known I'd wanted to breastfeed, and perhaps because getting pregnant was such a struggle, I just assumed everything that came along with pregnancy would be difficult, too.  Breastfeeding included.

In any case, it was a legitimate worry in those months leading up to her birth. I can remember squeezing my nipples in the shower hoping that some breast milk would come squirting out, and panicking slightly when it didn't, no matter how hard I tried.  I prayed, actually prayed to God to allow me to be able to nurse my child.  It was important to me.  

I remember the moment that I pulled Elena onto my body immediately after she was born.  All the fear that had built up inside me about being a new mother washed away.  At that exact moment in time it was as if I was fulfilling the role I was always meant to have.  There was no fear.  No worry.   No "what do I do now?"  Those first moments of meeting her in the flesh are the most precious moments of my life.  Laying her on my bare chest and seeing this sheer miracle of life rooting her little rosebud lips to find my breast, well, it was beauty in it's purest form. All that worry seemed for naught.

I'm eternally grateful to my sister-in-law who photographed Elena's entire birth and captured those first tender moments of us together once she had arrived.  I cherish them.   Having the pictures of my sweet little babe latching on for the first time will always be a treasure.  

I wanted to remember the last time as beautifully and clear as I remembered the first.  On the evening after our last "milkie" I wrote this in my phone.  I'm finally getting around to transcribing it here.

 ***Written on 10.14.12.  A letter to my baby.  My little love. ***

511 days I nursed you.  Just a week shy of your 17 month birthday.  Could we have gone longer?  Yes.  Did we go longer than I thought we'd be able to?  Yes.  Did we keep at is as long as I'd hoped?  Indeed.  I'm proud of us, little girl.  So proud.  

At this point, we were down to just one milkie session a day.  First thing in the morning.  It was the last session to go because it was your favorite.  The one you asked for and cherished.  Me too, little girl.  Me too.  Nothing filled my mama heart more than having you reach for me as soon I walked into your room-sleep still in your eyes and baby's breath filling the room.  Your crazy hair, wild from last night's sleep.  I will miss this.  Our special bond.  Our quiet cuddle time.  It filled me up and made me feel necessary and relevant. 

I had hoped to stop when you were ready.  Are you, my sweet love?  I don't know.  It's not on your time- our stopping- and that hurts Mama's heart.  You cried this morning when I told you there was no more milkie as you pulled at my shirt and feverishly signed please and milk.  That broke my heart, sweet girl.  But, that shattered heart grew two times in size with love and pride when you finally settled to take some milk from a sippy cup.  You are such a big girl and my heart swells every time your independence shines.   

I'm sure our milkie time was more out of comfort than nutrition at this point.  Though I know you still reaped the benefits of whatever mama's milk you got.  My breasts are full and heavy now if that is any indication that my milk was, in some regards, plentiful.  Even this far along, I still felt the "let down" sensation and will miss it.  Waiting for it.  Expecting it.  That rush of endorphins.  The high of knowing I was filling you up with goodness and nurturing your physical being and your emotional little self, too.  

I had always hated my breasts before you, little girl.  They weren't big enough, or sometimes too big depending on what I was wanting to wear.  They weren't as perky as my 20-something boobs and dammit if my areolas weren't the size of silver dollars!  But nursing you?  Man.  That was a game changer in terms of how I felt about my girls.  I am thankful for them.  Proud of them.  In awe of all that they have accomplished and overcome in 17 months of motherhood.  It wasn't always easy and we had our obstacles from latching issues to a nursing strike.

I have never really felt crazy passionate about something.  Until breastfeeding.  Plenty of people-most in fact-though it was less than normal for you to still be nursing.  Don't even get me started on that, BooBoo.  I could get all La Leche League on their assses.  I would feed you anywhere.  Anytime.  In fact, I probably did.  Always using a cover or blanket if we were in public.  Not because I'm against just whipping them out, but because I'm a modest gal of sorts and that is what was comfortable for me.  

One of the craziest places I ever nursed you was when we were driving on one of our 10 hour car rides between NJ and OH.  I unbuckled myself, climbed in the backseat, and hovered over you in the carseat for you to nurse.  Not the safest for Mama, I know.  I would have proudly breast fed you longer.  In fact, I wanted to at least nurse you until your 2nd birthday, but it was time for Mommy and Daddy to start trying to get your a brother or a sister.  And, with IVF there are lots of medicines that wouldn't be safe for you, my love.  So this is what we had to do.  Our approach was slow- eliminating one session every two weeks and I hope that it helps to make this transition easier on you.

I couldn't have made it this far without the love and support of Daddy.  He really surprised me with his support of extended breastfeeding.  He isn't a self-proclaimed hippie type like Mommy.  At all.  But he adored the bond it fostered between us.  You and I.  And he loved that it was the magic panacea for pretty much anything that ailed you.  Mommy and her magic boobies.  I will miss that.  My boobies sure were great problem solvers.  Daddy was known to say- "Give her the boooooob!" He's so silly.  

But now, as you advance into toddlerhood, I'll look forward to all the new ways we can grow together and bond.  You're such a busy bee and are so excited about the world.  Luckily we won't be at a loss for things to do to keep us going.  And when you reach for me and pull at my shirt, clearly in your language of wanting milkie, I will offer you comfort with all the mommy love and kisses and squeezes you need.  I won't let go baby until you tell me to.  

I hope you'll still let me hold you like my baby and rock you.  So I can stroke your hair and trace my fingers over your cheeks and perfect little nose, taking in every square inch of the miracle that is you.  Nursing you became so much more than feeding you.  It filled you up, but I think it filled me up just as much.  Thank you, my sweet love, for all that you are and all that you've allowed me to become as your mother.  Thank you for giving me a confidence and strength I never knew I possessed.  We've got this gig down, girlfriend.  I can't wait for all the wonder and joy that awaits us.  Together. 

So What! Wednesday

This week I'm saying So What! if....

I'm experiencing such crazy fatigue with this pregnancy that I could lay  down in the middle of Time Square and easily catch a quick nap.

I think Taylor from RHOBH's mouth is the scariest thing I've ever seen.  I literally have to look away when the camera focuses on her.  I mean, honestly, it saddens me the lengths people go to in order to look "beautiful."  

I've started the naughty corner/time out with Elena because she thinks it's hysterical to pinch my cheeks really hard.  She was either an old great aunt in her past life or she's  dominating the terrible twos a little early. 

Doing nothing is all I think about lately.  That and disgusting, processed carbs. 

I feel really bad about myself for being such a sloth.  But hey, I'm incubating a human, right???

I left the house to go to Target today and realized I hadn't brushed my teeth.  Really???

I have no shame is proudly professing my love of the Bachelor.  I will continue to look forward to this train wreck of a season every week.  

I get embarrassed watching my favorite reality shows and sometimes hide my face behind my hands even when I'm alone. 

I came home from the grocery store with these items: Strawberry frosted Pop Tarts, Apple Jacks, Bagel Bites, Kraft Mac n' Cheese, frozen soft pretzels.  Clearly I'm twelve again.

I haven't written out Christmas thank you notes yet.  My mother is rolling over in her grave, I'm sure.

I'm over the moon happy because Elena is finally having somewhat of a language explosion.  She's starting to repeat words we say and offer up words when she sees something she knows.  Makes my heart melt.

I haven't done a weekly bump update yet.  Still just so nervous.  Have my 8 week ultrasound Friday and then I'll get to clogging your feeds with baby news.

I got a follow request on Instagram from a blog crush and I got all geeky excited.

I recently removed my blog url from my Instagram profile since in real life randoms and extended family don't know I'm pregnant yet.  Only internet strangers, of course.  Duh. 

I'm impressed I was able to come up with so many so whats.  Slacker, whooooo?

Excited to see what you are all so whatting! this week...Thanks for stopping by!

Not sure what happened to the end of 2012, but I'm back.

Hard to believe that it's a week into the New Year and I'm just coming around.  Blogging fell by the wayside when we home in NJ for the holidays.  Not spending a single day of the month of December in my own home really threw my schedule and routine for a loop.  Not to mention the whole getting pregnant thing was time consuming and stressful.  Oh yeah, and the holidays happened.  In any case, I'm glad that I focused more on family and friends than my social media vices.  It feels good to be back, though.

Stay tuned for belated Christmas and New Year posts, even though I  did a pretty poor job of documenting our month home.  I blame it on the ridiculous fatigue that I've been feeling.  I was just too tired. That makes me sad but it is what it is and I'm not gonna beat myself up over it. 

I rang in 2013 with a hacking cough and an overall feeling of crappiness, but am so thankful that it didn't develop into anything worse.  Unfortunately, my little love was not spared.  She's come down with a nasty cold...only the second one she's had.  Productive cough, runny nose, gunky eyes.  Breaks my heart to see her sick, though you'd never know it by her attitude and energy, which radiate even when she's under the weather.  

Sick baby snuggles.

The upside to the toddler sickies are the increased toddler snuggles, which this mama does not mind. 

We're hoping the biggest baby of them all {ahem, Paul} doesn't get sick next.  He's traveling this week so at least he'll get a break from the germs and hopefully will come home to two healthy girls.  

Once we're out of the sick ward I'm planning to get back into my groove here.  Lots of things to talk about....Baby #2 news, weekly updates, holiday recap, some new recipes, Pinterest creations, and a whole lot of all the little things.