Archive for July, 2013
“Nine pounds, two weeks!” has become the new catch phrase around here in an effort to get over the giant blow to my ego I had last week.
Before we left town Wednesday, I had my regular OB check up. Except that my doctor was out on a surgery and the nurse practitioner I usually see in her absence had fallen off a ladder, damaging her own foot so bad that she had to have emergency surgery and stay off of it for eight weeks. So, instead, I got stuck with the new NP – a young, thin blonde with an extremely twangy southern accent.
Let me back up. Normally, when I go to the OB, they weigh me in the room on a digital scale. So far, my weight gain has been normal and nearly pound for pound like it was with Sarah. I’ve kept track of it at home on a digital scale to make sure that things weren’t getting out of hand.
But this time, with a different NP, they weighed me out in the public hall on an old janky scale that has to have been there since the early 1980’s. Still though, when they weighed me, I kind of checked out and moved on.
When I got into the room and finally saw the NP, she asked me in a very patronizing, fake sweet tone, “Did you gain nine pounds in two weeks?” Shocked, I sort of just stumbled, “Um, I don’t know,” and then spent every ounce of energy I had trying not to burst into tears.
Weight gain is tough on any pregnant woman, but as a woman who has struggled with my weight my whole life, this was particularly hard.
Finally I said, “Well maybe it’s because I usually weigh in the mornings here and this time I’m weighing right after lunch.”
She immediately asked, “What did you have for lunch?”
“A veggie burger and a banana,” I said, truthfully.
“Well, you know, I have a lot of women tell me they don’t know why they’re gaining weight because all they eat are vegetables,” she said, still sugary sweet.
“I know I shouldn’t be one to criticize about weight, but…” said the tiny little blonde who has obviously never given birth.
I was humiliated, guilty, embarrassed, near tears. And it just wouldn’t stop. I finally said, “Well, I’m extremely self conscious about my weight and I’ll try to do better next time.”
At the time I didn’t even stop to think that maybe I should be re-weighed or that the scale might be off. I was feeling so shameful and hateful of myself that all I could think of was what a giant fat failure I was.
I left the office dejected after a few more comments about my starting weight and where I was then.
I called Mark and burst into tears and spent the rest of the evening in a terrible guilty funk. It didn’t help that Sarah threw a 50 MINUTE long tantrum from the time I picked her up until Mark got home. I just wanted to throw myself on the floor and join right in with her.
I texted with Susan about it – the only person I even felt remotely comfortable admitting my great shame to, and she was so encouraging. It lifted my spirits some, but not completely.
But then my husband came home and was upset by how I was acting. “You did not gain nine pounds in two weeks. I don’t believe it. You would know.”
The thing is, I don’t know that I would know. I feel so unbelievably big right now that it doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch.
He encouraged me to re-weigh myself. So finally, I did. And guess what, he was right, I hadn’t gained nine pounds in two weeks, I had gained THREE. My digital scale at home has been exact with the digital scales at the OB office, but that old ridiculous scale weighed me SIX POUNDS heavier than my one at home.
Besides feeling obviously relieved, I also felt angry. I know the NP was just going by the numbers she was given, but to be put through that session of shame when it wasn’t warranted was a form of torture for me.
At this point I’m supposed to be gaining a pound a week. So three pounds is nearly right on target and I’m exactly where I should be.
Mark has a mind to let the doctor know how angry he is by how I was treated, but I’m not sure what we’ll do or say. I do know that I won’t ever see that NP again.
In order to get over the humiliation of it all, we’ve made it into a joke. Mark informs me that I have a buffer now – after all, I’ve already been shamed about gaining the weight, I might as well put it on. So any time we come across something particularly fattening and yummy now, we say, “Nine pounds, two weeks!”
Now, let’s just hope that doesn’t really happen. Though I have a feeling all this heartburn and stomach squishing will help things in that department.
Despite all the wonderful things going on in my life, I’ve still been carrying around a bit of a heavy heart for a couple of reasons.
For one, my best friend is moving tomorrow, about six-and- a-half hours away. And while I know the move is much harder on her for so many more important reasons, and we haven’t been able to hang out as much as we used to, I am still selfishly sad. I think it says a lot about a person when you can live with them for three years and come out of it with only a few tense moments over some fermented blueberries and eating all the after work snacks.
Susan is truly one of those people I can say ANYTHING to and I know she won’t judge me (at least out loud). We’ve known each other since around 6th grade thanks to church youth group, got to be closer in high school, and then best friends in college. We’ve done a lot together, suffered a lot together, shared so much and laughed a lot together. And now we have baby girls a year apart. There were a couple of other times when she almost had to move, but we were granted a reprieve. And now that the time is actually here, I’m feeling so sad about it.
I left her daughter’s birthday party Saturday and couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye because I knew I’d make a fool of myself and start crying (I’m blaming it on the pregnancy hormones, ok)
I know we’ll still talk and chat and see each other from time to time, but it won’t be the same.
I guess that’s what I get for staying in one place my whole life – almost everybody else has moved off or lives somewhere else. Of course I still have some amazing girlfriends who live in town (and one who even recently moved back!) But I’m just going to be sad about it now.
To add insult to injury, it seems Sam Cat has run away. We’re still not sure if it’s a permanent disappearance, but he’s been gone for almost two weeks. He goes outside every night and shows back up every morning. He has been doing this for over six years with no disturbances. He has occasionally decided to stay away for two or three days before and shown back up. And once, right before we got married, he stayed away a full two weeks before coming back – so I guess there’s still hope.
The thing is, the morning he didn’t show back up was July 4. Since then we’ve had tons of nights of fireworks and thunderstorms. A huge part of me thinks the fireworks scared him so bad that he ran and got lost. Another part of me thinks some old lady has taken him in, never to return.
And then I feel guilty for being so consumed with work and family that I haven’t been looking for him as much as I should, or maybe grieving for him? Truthfully I’m sad about him leaving, but I just keep “not thinking about it.” And that makes me sad too.
Good grief I really need some wine. It’s a shame you can’t drink when you’re pregnant.
I realized that with my first pregnancy, I would post every single week about what was going on in the form of letters to baby. This time, I (shamefully) am continually surprised to learn that another week has already slipped by. I now find myself beginning my third trimester and I’m still trying to figure out where the time has gone.
Things will pick up much faster now with less than 12 weeks to go, OB appointments every two weeks, lots of work to finish and two more trips to take between now and then. And in the Louisiana heat no less. Pray for me!
In lieu of all those weekly baby updates, I thought I’d give you a little peek at where I’m at now.
Baby: Girl – a big bony girl who sleeps a lot during the day and parties late into the evening hours. We have selected her name, but we’ll be keeping it on Internet silence until after she makes her debut.
Weight gain: About the same pound for pound as last time, which is both depressing and reassuring. Depressing because I hoped to do better this time, reassuring because I got it all off last time and know I can do it again.
Maternity clothes: I went into maternity clothes so much faster this time and have been in them for a while. I already have some items that are going to be too small soon. So far I’ve avoided having to buy any, making some things from last time work, wearing some borrowed ones and making my jersey skirts and maxi dresses make do. I’m going to try to make this work for as long as I can.
Stretch marks: So far, so good. Sarah gave me a million, so I’m hoping that I don’t add to that giant collection this time around.
The belly: Is big and tight, but because of how I’m shaped, I think people still look at me and wonder if I’ve just been indulging in way too many ice cream cones.
Exercise: I was walking five mornings a week, but that took a hiatus when I went to Colorado and started dealing a toddler getting up in the wee hours of the morning. I plan on starting back again Monday morning. However, I am definitely getting winded a lot more quickly these days.
Best moment of this week: Passing my glucose tolerance test on the first try and getting the all clear from the cardiologist for the rest of my pregnancy and his blessing to have more children if that happens to be in our future.
Miss anything: Laying on my back and spin class.
Movement: This girl is so much lazier than Sarah was in utero. Sarah moved non-stop, but this one sleeps most of the day and then has wild and crazy dance parties in the evening and around 5 a.m.
Food cravings: KEY LIME PIE. Cookies. Apples. All three give me terrible heart burn, but I do not care.
Labor signs: Fortunately we’re still too early for all that business.
Belly button in or out: In and will likely stay put. It never popped with Sarah.
Wedding rings on or off: Still on! I never had to take them off with Sarah, and I’m hoping the heat is kind to me again this time.
Happy or moody most of the time: Generally exhausted… which leads to moodiness. But I’m trying to stay happy and most of the time it works.
Looking forward to: Seeing Sarah and Baby R. meet for the first time (and hoping it all goes well).
Preparations: We bought a larger vehicle, which was the biggest thing we needed to do. Baby’s room is still our storage room and I hope to spend some time tomorrow starting to clean it out and getting it ready. I’m also hoping to start cooking and freezing next month. I’ve started a list for myself on Amazon of things I need to replace and/or get more of before she arrives. I’m hoping all those Amazon rewards points help me out there!
From our family to yours,
There are so many things you don’t think about when you’re pregnant for the first time. After all, it’s hard to get beyond those blissful imaginings of those sweet little baby toes and the smell of baby’s head. And both those things went beyond my expectations in how wonderful they actually are. But there are those things that happen a couple of years down the road that you don’t think about at all.
Toddlerhood is its own beast and we’ve been fighting many battles lately. Frankly, I’m exhausted. But unlike the first pregnancy, I have to keep chugging along for the sake of the little girl in our home who needs so much.
Let’s start with the recent Failures.
1. Potty Training. This will go down as one of the most frustrating experiences of my life. I have serious envy for anyone who had no problems getting their kid to start potty training. After testing out most of the “guaranteed” strategies and failing, we’ve discovered that we are going to have to come up with a new plan entirely that fits our daughter.
Naked training? She hikes her leg and pees on things like a dog.
Reward system? She dumped the chocolate chips on the floor and peed on them, and then later peed on the sticker sheet.
Wet panties? She screamed and cried when we tried to pull them off of her. She doesn’t care that they’re wet and dirty. At all.
New strategy has started. I don’t want to curse myself, so I’ll fill you in if and when it works.
2. Fruit. I think I must have the only toddler in existence who hates fruit (besides bananas). I’m pretty sure this is a complete texture issue. We continue to offer her fruit, which she loudly and wholeheartedly rejects. So, we continue to make fruit smoothies and applesauce, both of which she loves.
3. Naps. I know I’ve decried the lack of nap in the past, but even then she’d cave and nap at least three days of week. Those days are over it seems. Her day care teachers have also given up hope and we’ve resigned ourselves to having a kid who is done with naps. Every once in a while we’ll luck out and she’ll pass out in the car, but I am dreading having a newborn and a kid who doesn’t nap. Mimi or Nana may have to move in for a while…
1. The Dinner Table. We have had so many stand offs at the dinner table over the past 6 months. She suddenly started completely rejecting foods she used to love, leaving us in complete dismay. So, we finally bit the bullet and did the hard thing. Now she no longer gets an after school snack (we distract her with outside play and water instead). And if she doesn’t eat what’s at the dinner table, then she doesn’t eat. I was so worried about her going hungry, but what do you know? Turns out it actually works! Kid scarfed down chicken quesadillas two nights ago loaded down with bell peppers and last night she had THREE helpings of red beans and rice and turkey sausage.
2. The Big Girl Bed. Let me start by saying this was a two week long failure, and after weeks of spending two hours in the middle of the night putting her back in her bed over and over, I was so over it and ready to reassemble the crib. But while I was in Colorado, Mark discovered that she just wanted her door open. And now that she can see out at night, she stays put until morning time!
3. Morning Drop Off. Sarah would cry and throw a tantrum every single morning at day care drop off. Mark and her teachers though have somehow managed to conquer the problem together, and now when she gets there she gives daddy a kiss and moves on to play. And in the mornings when it’s time to leave the house, she runs up to me, gives me a kiss and enthusiastically says, “Bye bye, Mama!” before running outside to get in daddy’s truck.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the successes when the failures are constantly right in front of you, but I am proud that we’re making some headway on three things that were such terrible difficulties for so long. I can only hope that we’ll make some headway on at least two of the failures!
P.S. I had my own great success yesterday when I passed my glucose tolerance test with Baby R. Now, someone get mama some key lime pie.
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