TJ & DJ (no, we don't call them by their initials)

I have two boys - and their names are Theodore Jack and Dexter Jay. 

Honestly?  I never dreamed I’d name my kids those names.

For the longest time, I loved the name Vivienne and thought for sure when (not if) I had a girl, she’d be Vivienne Margaret (Margaret after my paternal grandmother).  By the time I found out Theo was a boy, I’d marked Vivi off my list because Brangelina named their little girl the same thing.  They copied me.  I had it first.  I didn’t want to fall in their footsteps…or the footsteps of a bunch of people that named their baby Vivi because Brangelina did. That's it - off the list.

Before Jackson became hugely popular, I loved Zavier Jackson, but R wanted it to be Xavier Jackson.  I didn’t want the “X” pronunciation and we could never agree on it, so we dropped it.  Jackson was R’s grandfather’s name.  After X/Zavier died off, there was Owen.  I had several years of wanting a baby Owen.  Then, all the sudden, there was an Owen at every pool and playground and toy store.  Again, off the list.

By the time I finally got pregnant, I didn’t have any baby names picked out.  It seemed like quite the ominous task, choosing names that this kid would carry with him for life.  I knew I wanted to incorporate my late father’s name somehow.  No lie, we were watching Cosby Show reruns one night when I said “Theo.  Theodore.”  I don’t know what it was about the name, but it felt good rolling off my tongue and it sounded right with our last name.  Within about 2 minutes, we decided our baby (if he was indeed a boy) would be Theodore.  Within a week of finding out his gender, we were calling him Baby Theo.  It fit and it stuck and there was no looking back. It took us a few weeks longer to decide if his middle name would be Jack or Alan but we ended up choosing Jack.  No one knew my dad by his middle name, Alan, and Jack just seemed perfect. 

Dexter was a different story altogether.  It was harder, and partly because we didn’t know if the baby would be a boy or a girl.  I got it in my head that I wanted the name to have a “Th” blend in it.  Like Samantha.  Or Meredith.  Or Edith.  Edith?  Yeah, Edith.  That was the name we ultimately decided on if the baby was a girl.  We’d call her Edie and her middle name would be June after R’s grandmother.  I entertained the idea of naming a girl Arizona (after my maternal grandmother) and calling her Zoey.  R wasn’t a huge fan.  Oh, and we fell in love with Mallory for a few weeks but decided against it because of my nephew named Malachi, who gets called Mal, Mali, and every other way you would naturally shorten Mallory. 

After exploring ALL “th” options for boys, I realized it just wasn’t going to happen.  So we went off in different directions.  Harrison (but R didn’t want him to be called Harry).  Griffith (too cumbersome rolling off the tongue with our last name).  I loved Calvin, but with Theodore's name, I thought it was too close to the Chipmunks' Alvin.  Crosby (too much like Cosby? as in Theo Huxtable/Bill Cosby).  Also, R is a huge Pittsburgh Penguins fan and while I couldn’t care less, he didn’t want everyone to think he named his kid after Sidney Crosby.  Think we over-thunk it?  Maybe so.

When Dexter was born and we heard the words (and saw the evidence), “it’s a boy!” I looked at his little face and thought, he looks like a Crosby.  But for whatever reason, by noon that day, we’d decided he was a Dexter.  We chose Jay for his middle name after R’s father.  We liked Jay and June both because they started with J and had one syllable like Jack, and {bonus} had family significance. 

It's funny how there's a million and one names out there and you can choose any one of them - but your baby is exactly who you named him for a reason.  I just can't imagine calling my little guys anything but Theo and Dex. 

I love baby names.  TaIking about them, thinking about them, and choosing them.  I would love to name a dozen more babies, but that means I’d have to take care of them and pay for them too.  There are no more vacancies at our inn for now, so I’ll have to be content with my two boys and the names that we chose for them. 

no regrets here,

~C~

I'm linking up with Mama G at Growing Up Geeky and Mindi at Simply Stavish this week for Toddle Along Tuesday.

he's {almost} 2

Around this time last year, I was lamenting over Theo being a month shy of a year old.  That first year with him just flew by. 

Well...the second year hasn't gone any slower and here I am again, lamenting over the fact that my sweet baby is now a little toddler who is almost TWO years old.  On March 8th, I will have a two year old.  Guys.  Girls.  Do you know what that means?  This is huge.  I can no longer tell strangers that my baby is 20-however many months old.  There's a big difference in a one year old that is 13 months and one that is 23 months. 

Ohhh, deep sigh.

I imagine I will be crying over my computer a month before his 18th birthday, too.  Does it ever get any easier?  I thought 2 would be easier than 1.  This should be old news.  I look at pictures of my little 13 month old and pictures of my 23 month old and without me even realizing it, he's changed.  His chubby cheeks have thinned out (some) and his legs are longer.  He's gone from babbling a few words to saying sentences.  Having conversations with himself.  Watching his dad through the door into the garage, saying "What's daddy doing?  Daddy's moving the car.  In the garage."  HOW IS MY KID talking like this all of the sudden?

He picks up new phrases every week.  Last Friday we were at home and he was in a negotiating mood.  He had eaten a clementine and a bagel with cream cheese.  Apparently he was still hungry.

He said, "I want some crackers." 
I said, "Ummm, no.  You can have some cereal."
He said, "No, mom.  How 'bout some crackers?"

My jaw hit the floor.  I was so dumbfounded by his "how 'bout" that I said, "okay," and gave him the dang Cheez-its.  And when did he start calling me MOM? Is he 23 months or 12 years?

He does something every day that makes me want to pull my hair out.  He also does about 5 things every day that make me proud or melt my heart.  I just can't believe this kid is mine.  Do I know what I'm doing or am I just lucky?  Because y'all?  He's awesome. 

I couldn't have picked a cooler 23 month old if you'd given me a 5 million page catalog.  

xo,

~C~

the question I get asked the most

So, what's it like having such young kids so close in age?

Honestly, my instinctive, don't-even-think-about-it answer is usually:  I don't recommend it.

(With a laugh, of course.) 

I don't know why I say that, but I hate that I do.  Nope, it's not always easy.  But guess what?  I wouldn't know the difference.  If I hadn't gotten pregnant with Dexter and we still just had Theo, I bet I would say that having a toddler (and just one of them) is challenging, too.

Maybe, just maybe, subconsciously I want everyone to know that I'm workin' my ass off here, just trying to keep it all together and be the best mom that I can be.  I'm not always proud of my words or actions when I get frustrated, but I doubt that it would be much different if I only had one kid.  Maybe, just maybe, I think if I make everyone realize how exhausting it is, they might not judge me for flipping my lid from time to time.  Or perhaps that makes me feel less guilty for said lid-flipping.

Regardless.

Our plan was to have our kids 2 years apart.  We are overachievers, I guess, because they're only 14 months apart.  I got pregnant again when Theo was only 5 months old.  So 16 of his 21 months, I have been taking care of him and another baby, too.  I have been exhausted for two and a half years.  I could count the number of times that I have slept through the night on both hands since Theo was born.  Maybe just one hand, if I'm being truthful.  I have been nursing and/or pregnant since June of 2009.  That's kind of like having a body, but not really having full control and ownership of it for two and a half solid years.    

I don't recommend it.

Or do I?  Because really, it's not that bad.  Like I said, it's the only experience I've known as a parent.  There are bad moments, sure.  But doesn't the job of raising 2 kids that are 2 or 3 years apart have it's share of bad moments, too?  What about twins?  I'm sure that is just as (if not more) difficult.  I don't think there's a perfect solution because parenting is never going to be easy breezy.  If it is, you must not be doing it right. 

I already see the benefits of having babies so close together.  They are starting to play together.  I love the way Dexter's face lights up when Theo is giving him attention.  Theo is so loving towards Dexter (most of the time) and has adapted just fine to not being the (only) baby.  I am already envisioning my boys playing sports, double dating, and sharing friends in school. 

Having them so close together seemed like a nightmare when I found out I was pregnant.  Now, I feel endlessly lucky.  Who knows what might happen a couple years down the road?  I have heard too many stories recently about young moms with ovarian cancer.  Emergency hysterectomies.  Having just one child was never my plan and I would have been heartbroken if the option of having more had been taken away from me.

We are in the thick of it right now and I am well aware that it might get worse before it gets better.  It's getting more interesting as Dexter has recently become extremely mobile.  I wonder what Theo will be like a year from now, when Dexter is developmentally where he is now.  The story is always changing, evolving. 

I'm pretty sure this time in our lives is going to be one that we look back on and ask ourselves, "how did we survive?" with smiles on our faces.  Like being in grad school, working full-time at a brand new job career, and driving 700+ miles every other week or so to see my dying father.  It was chaotic and stressful, but so, so worth it and I wouldn't have done it any other way.  There was no other alternative.  I did what I had to do and that's what I'm doing now.  It may be a stretch to say I'm loving every second of it, but I bet when I look back, with a smile on my face, that's how I will remember it.

So you know what?  I guess I do recommend it.  I'd be lying if I said I wish my life had turned out differently.

Hey, guys, I'm working my ass off here to keep it all together and be the best mom I can be. 

There, I said it.  Now you know it and I won't have to act like I'm miserable, raising these babies who were born 14 months apart. 

not miserable,
~C~

P.S. This post was inspired by Krista at one of my favorite blogs, Not Mommy of the Year.  Read her post here.

P.P.S. I have had a handful of people tell me that they can't or have had trouble commenting on my blog.  If you are one of those people or if you have ever had trouble commenting on my blog, please try the new format.  If you still have trouble, please email me and let me know.  I'd hate to think people aren't commenting because they can't!  Your comments truly make my day.

my kid sucks

his thumb, y'all!  Gah... you didn't really think I would start a bliggety off like that, did you?

When Theo was a newborn, I saw him wiggling that little hand near his mouth a few times but never really had the coordination to really get going.  Plus, I never gave him the opportunity.  I ever-so-gently pushed his tiny hand away from his face and inserted his little green soothie pacifier.

However.

Around the time he turned 6 months old, we decided to transition him out of the miniature baby straightjacket swaddle (which we loved for Theo - it never did diddly squat for Dexter) at night, subsequently freeing his arms and hands from said miniature baby straightjacket swaddle.   When that happened, something else did too.  Theo abandoned that soothie faster than you could say "thumbsucker."

Mouth, meet thumb.  Thumb, meet mouth.

I'm not sure what I had against it...I guess I just figured it would be easier to take a pacifier away than a thumb, and I didn't want him sucking his thumb at prom.  I never wanted my kid(s) to be a thumbsucker.  I would go as far as to say that it even annoyed me.  I don't know why.  We don't try to dissuade him much anymore.  We do say "get that thumb outta your mouth!" as a game, and he'll pop it out real fast and look at us and laugh (before popping it right back in and going about his business). 

I notice he does it the most when he's sleepy and when he's feeling nervous or shy.  There are days when he hardly does it outside of those circumstances.  There are days when he does it nonstop subconsciously as he plays.  To Theo, thumbsucking = self-soothing.  It makes him feel secure.  He's still little, so I don't feel the need to take it away (or try to) just yet.

For the record, I still don't think it's cute.

If there's one thing that makes me cringe about thumbsucking, it's the gross germs.  All the germs that he picks up (and sucks off of his thumb) while he's playing at the Simon mall playground.  The table he touches at McDonald's right before he sucks his thumb.  The germs he's spreading when his slobbery thumb touches things while we are out and about.  I try to hand sanitze as much as possible when we play in public.  We, as a family, have been sick for the last 6 weeks.  So yes.  I have become that mom.  The one chasing her kid around the playground squirting hand sanitizer left and right and towards every kid that comes within 10 feet of him.  Just be glad I don't carry Clorox Wipes in my purse.  Wait.  I do wipe off the high chairs and tables at restaurants with Wet Ones. Does that count?

I digress. 

Dex has never slept in a baby straightjacket swaddle.  He falls asleep with his pacifier but then it falls out and he doesn't use it the rest of the night.  We sure do stick it in his mouth when he starts crying for no apparent reason and he seems to like it.  The doc says we should get rid of it now because they are associated with a higher risk of ear infections after six months.  I'm not convinced yet.  There are just those times when I'm glad to have it, and so is Dexter. 

I wonder if I'll have another thumbsucker on my hands. 

time will tell,
~C~

3.8.10 (my proudest day ever)

Like I mentioned before, I was admitted to the hospital the night before my induction was to take place so that Cervidil could be placed. The goal with Cervidil is to prime the cervix for the induction, and supposedly make it more receptive to Pitocin, which is actually intended to start or strengthen contractions. I don't know how to describe it, but it was placed at the entrance of the cervix and was extremely uncomfortable going in...about 10 times worse than having your cervix checked for dilation, for anyone who has experienced that pleasure.

I was surprised when the nurse came into the room to ask me if I was feeling the contractions that were registering at the nurse's station. She said I was contracting about every 6 minutes. Nope. Didn't feel a thing.
I was scared of the I.V. It wasn't bad at all. I hated wearing the blood pressure cuff and I hated that they didn't want me to wear a bra. I'm not sure what that was all about, but they let me sleep without the cuff so I dropped it. My last, late-night, pre-baby meal was a grilled chicken sandwich and mandarin oranges from Wendy's. Bleh.

They removed the Cervidil and it had done it's job...I want to say I was about 50% or 75% effaced. I got up and took a shower before they started my Pitocin. That got going right on time at 8am and the nurse was in every 10 to 15 minutes, turning it up to increase the strength of my contractions. I felt crampy/achy like PMS but nothing worse than that. I kept waiting for the serious pain to set in. The first time they checked me after the induction was officially under way, I was at 2cm. Two hours later...3cm. Two hours later...4cm. I wasn't much more uncomfortable than I had been at the beginning so I didn't feel like I needed my epidural yet, but the nurse informed me that the anesthesiologist was about to go into a Cesarean and I might want to go ahead with the epidural.

I opted for Nubain instead at that time, which made me loopy, then sleepy. When they woke me up, I got my epidural and the doctor came and broke my water. I was scared of the epidural too, but it was a breeze, aka: BFF. Everything was going so much smoother than I'd expected. The doctor broke my water at 5pm and when they checked me at 7, I'd gone from 4cm to 8cm.

The nurse warned me about "breakthrough contractions" and I asked what that was supposed to mean. The nurses were switching shifts at that time and I remember them looking at each other like "silly girl" and then one of them explained that the pain might be breaking through the epidural block. Ohhh.

I did feel slightly more uncomfortable and got to a point where I didn't feel much like talking. I was so lucky to have my wonderful husband, my mother, my sister, and my in-laws in the room with me most of the day. At that point though, I really just wanted to be alone with the hubs. The reality of what was about to happen was setting in. And I'm not talking about the reality of motherhood or becoming a parent for the first time. I was seriously freaking out about pushing a big ol' baby out a small you-know-what. I got really nervous. I wanted time to slow down, because I knew when they came to check me at 9pm, I would be ready to go. They did and I was. However, I didn't fully understand what my nurse meant with regard to the urge to push because I wouldn't describe what I was feeling at that time "the urge to push." So foolishly, I said "no." I think I could have figured it out, but maybe if we'd started then, it would have just taken that much longer. It was 9:15pm when she came back from talking to the doctor, who said to give me 30 minutes to "labor down" with no additional epidural goodness.

I watched the time tick by on the clock and before I knew it, 9:45 was there and so was my nurse. Man, she was prompt. It was just me, her, and my husband. She helped me get into position and was coaching me on how to push. I asked her if this was just for practice because it didn't feel like anything was happening. She laughed and said that this was IT. She said I was moving the baby well with each push. Between pushes we were joking and I was still not feeling the discomfort that I had been expecting and fearing. It wasn't long before another nurse showed up and they were both raving about how much hair the baby had. What? They could already see the head? I still didn't feel like I'd done anything. With a total of four of us in the room, I gave a couple more pushes and Courtney, my L&D nurse told me to hang out through the next couple of contractions and not to push because it was time to get the doctor.

When he showed up a couple of minutes later, things started getting serious. Three, maybe four more pushes and Theo was crowning. I'm not sure who attached a razor blade headband to his scalp but the epidural had worn off by that point. Once a good portion of his head was out, I was feeling some seriously indescribable pain. The head came out and the doctor told me to give one more good push. Nothing.

Then, pandemonium. There was screaming. There was yelling. There was repositioning me and the bed and people pushing on my belly. There were commands to keep pushing and don't stop. Later, my hubs said he could tell that the doctor was a bit freaked out because of the intensity on his face and the urgency with which he was calling out commands. I had my eyes squeezed tight while pushing with everything left in me. I didn't really understand the seriousness of the situation at that very moment. As it turns out, Theo had a mild shoulder dystocia that lasted about 10 seconds. If you click that link, you'll see that there are few situations that are scarier for an OB. But, before long, Theo decided to come on out and greet us.

I have a fuzzy memory of those few minutes, as they were fueled by so much adrenaline and emotion. I asked if I was screaming during and right after the birth, because I remember it that way but apparently I wasn't. They plopped Theo up on my stomach for a moment and then the doctor said to my husband that he had to cut the umbilical cord. Theo wasn't breathing right away so they swooped him over to the warming table, where he did begin to breathe and whimper. It took him forever to cry, though, and he never really did while we were still in the L&D room. I watched in the mirror while the nurse tried to agitate him by flicking his foot and rolling him back and forth. I couldn't believe how cute his little face was. So that's what you looked like in there, huh?

And the hair...oh the hair! Lots of thick black hair sticking straight up. I just couldn't have imagined him being any more adorable. He was born at 10:39pm, less than an hour after I started pushing. With the exception of those few EXTREMELY painful moments and the uneasiness I felt while the doctor was stitching me up, the entire process went so much smoother than I ever imagined. That mirror on the ceiling that allowed me to watch the nurse with Theo was the same one that allowed me to see what the doctor was doing and that was NOT cool! Pretty traumatic really. There was a lot of blood and pain. The doctor began stitching me and I felt every bit of it. Lidocaine fixed that problem. But they had to give me something else because my uterus was not contracting or my blood wasn't clotting or something...I can't remember exactly what but it was a quick fix as well.  We enjoyed a half hour or so alone with our baby after I was stitched up and it was determined that his breathing was good enough. Then, the grandparents and my sister, came in to see the spectacle that was Theo. Enter: Paparazzi.

It was fun to see them oohing and ahhing over him and it felt good to know that this little tiny person was already loved so much by so many people.

They got about 15 minutes with him and then he had to go to the nursery for some newborn tests and they had to transfer me to my post-partum room.

Postpartum recovery: Coming up.

~C~

pregnancy recap

*after reading this post, I realize it would be much more exciting if I'd uploaded some pics to help tell the story.  Well....that would take time.  And time is something I don't have much of.  If I get around to uploading them, I'll post a link in a newer blog. Deal?*

Like I mentioned before, I found out I was pregnant with Theo super early...4 weeks and 1 day.  So the first trimester that I couldn't tell anyone dragged on and on.  I remember early signs or symptoms such as suddenly having to pee all the time, my boobs got big and sore, and there were a few days of crampiness and spotting right after I found out and that scared the crap out of me.  It turned out okay, as I ended up getting a couple extra ultrasounds out of it and heard his heart beat for the first time at 6 weeks. 

The 12 week appointment was kind of fun because we got to see his little arms and legs on the ultrasound and afterwards, I paraded around my office with the printouts.  There was one perfect picture of his tiny hand where his thumb was 90 degrees from his pointer finger like an "L." Right then was when I knew he was gonna be super cute.

At 14+ weeks we had a bunch of stupid genetic testing done, because I thought if something was wrong with my baby, I wanted time to plan and prepare for it.  Reasons that was a dumb idea: 1) It's not like I would have aborted it regardless  2) It was too late and the results weren't even reliable 3) It ended up costing us $600+ out of pocket because it wasn't medically necessary. 

At 18 weeks, we found out our little munchkin was a boy.  The ultrasound tech said at 14 weeks that she thought she saw a penis but it could have just been the cord in the way so she wouldn't commit to her hunch with any certainty.  I figured it was a boy, but I don't know if it was becuase of some motherly instinct or if it was because I secretly hoped to have a girl first.  Okay, not so secretly.  When we found out it was a boy, I don't think either of us were surprised.  Happy either way, but not surprised.  I was just glad to finally know SOMETHING about the baby so I could start planning and buying stuff.

I started showing aroung 16 or 17 weeks.  Man, was I impatient.  I wanted that cute belly like crazy.  Too bad there's a period of about 2 months where you just look fat, not pregnant.  I don't know how cute it was when it showed up, but it did.  I think I was 18 weeks and 5 days when I felt what I knew for sure were kicks.  It was so cute - I was sitting on the couch, using the laptop and I felt some flutters.  I yelled at Theo's daddy and he came running in and put his hand on my belly, thinking he would be able to feel him too.  I was closer to 22 weeks when he was able to, but that was kind of a fluke.  He wasn't able to feel much again until 24 - 26 weeks.

Heartburn developed around 24 weeks and lingered with me throughout the pregnancy.  The first time I had it, I thought I must be dying.  For people who get heartburn all the time, pregnant or not...oh man.  Your life sucks.  I'd never had heartburn before and it felt like my throat was closing up to where I couldn't breathe.  It was hot and painful and made my eyes water.  It subsided after 10-15 seconds, but often came back multiple times.  Sometimes what I ate seemed to make a difference, but towards the end, it didn't matter much at all.  Tums and Zantac were my BFFs for awhile.

The belly was definitely getting big by 28 weeks, which was the week of Christmas.  I had my 2 hour glucose tolerance test that week and the 3 hour test at 30 weeks, then my result...BIG FAT FAIL.  I will write another blog on Gestational Diabetes, but from there on out, I was on a strict diet and was checking my blood sugar 4x a day.  Ick.

Also around 30 weeks, I went into major freakout mode because all we had in the baby's room was furniture and a few clothes.  No carseat, no stroller, no mattress, no changing pad, diapers, etc.  Nothing!  And no baby showers were scheduled yet so I was nervous about lots of things.  Then, everything magically fell into place.

I had a baby shower at 34 weeks and another one at 35 weeks. I am still astounded by everyone's generosity.  We barely bought anything in Theo's room.  In fact, I can look around his room today and identify pretty much every item in there and who it was a gift from.  The only big purchases we made were his furniture and bouncy seat. 

After Theo was born, we traveled 7+ hours (it's supposed to take 5) to my mom's, where she threw Theo a book party.  Since we already had everything we needed, mom asked everyone to bring a favorite children's book with an inscription.

My husband's work threw him a "diaper shower" so everyone brought a pack or a box of diapers.  My sweet cousin, who works at a hospital, can get diapers at a discount so she has given us TONS of them.  I'm happy to say that we have only bought diapers at the store ONE time in over 6 months...in case you didn't know, that's pretty awesome!

To date, I have sent out over 80 thank you cards (and I still have a short list of names on the dry erase board of people I still need to send them to).  So overwhelmed by the love!

I remember around 34 or 35 weeks thinking "what's wrong with people? Being pregnant's not so bad!"  I had heard so many people talking about being DONE with pregnancy and taking all sorts of measures to try to coax their bodies into labor.  I was in no hurry.  I figured that I was a lot less busy than I would be after the baby was born, not to mention the physical discomfort I would be experiencing after giving birth!

That mindset changed pretty rapidly once I hit 36 or 37 weeks.  Everything was uncomfortable.  Sitting. Standing. Lying down.  Showering. Eating. Using the bathroom. Tying my shoes.  Everything.  Every day was a day when I couldn't imagine being pregnant for another 24 hours.  Each week felt like a lifetime.  Ooof, that was rough. 

At my 38 week appointment, the doctor suggested an induction the following Monday, which was the day I would reach 39 weeks.  After asking a million questions, we agreed and started reciting Theo's birthday in our heads.  March 8th ... it has a nice ring to it.  :)

One thing I liked about the timing of my pregnancy was the weather.  It gets damn cooooold in the midwest for several months at a time.  While the winter wasn't too extreme last year, the coldest parts of the winter were towards the very end of my pregnancy...January and February.  I became so hot-natured that I would have to go stand outside in 10 degree weather after blow drying my hair.  Everyone else would be freezing and I was comfortable for a change.  I can't imagine being hugely pregnant through the summer.  For anyone who has endured it...props to you. 

Soooo, anyway...I went to the hospital on Sunday, March 7th to start the induction process, but that's a story for another day!

Have a great weekend, ya'll!

~C~

any excuse to go to Cheesecake Factory

I've talked before about the day after our 6th wedding anniversay and how special it was, because it was the day we got our BFP (big fat positive, in case you missed it).  That morning, I couldn't hardly believe my eyes (which were still fuzzy with sleep and blurry with no vision correction), but at the same time, I knew exactly what I saw.  It was nothing out of the ordinary for me to take a pregnancy test as soon as I possibly could, more or less to put the anticipation of not knowing one way or the other out of my mind.  That fateful morning, I saw 2 lines.  I tried to think of ways that a false positive could have happened while I took a shower.  I think I smiled the whole time I was in the shower because I knew better. 

(not me.  or my pregnancy test. just for effect)

When I got out of the shower, I called my sweet husband into the bathroom and tried to look confused.  I told him I wasn't wearing my contacts and asked him if the test looked like it was showing one line or two.  He looked at it and said assertively "two."  I continued playing dumb and asked him to look at the instructions to see what two lines meant.  He looked at the instructions, then at the stick, then at me, and repeated that cycle about three times.  By the third go-round, I'm pretty sure I had a huge grin on my face and we started hugging and laughing.  Neither one of us could believe that we finally got what we had wanted so desperately for the last several months. 

That day was possibly one of the worst days for me at work, but I handled it with grace.  Nothing could spoil my good mood.  After work, I took another pregnancy test, which turned positive immediately, and that was reason enough to go to Cheesecake Factory.

We kept our little secret to ourselves for about 24 hours...the next morning (after I did one more test, just to be sure), I started making phone calls to my family and very best friends.  That night we told my in-laws over dinner and surprised them, as they didn't know that we were trying.  Surprising people was one of the funnest (jury's still out...is funnest a word?) parts of getting that BFP. 

We waited to announce our news to acquaintances, Facebook, our employers, etc. until we got the thumbs up from the doctor at my 12 week check up.  Truth be told, I was terribly afraid that I would miscarry.  I was pessimistic after trying for several months to conceive and afraid that whatever made it take so long might also create a hostile environment for our little embryo.  I tried not to get attached to the idea of the baby - pretty tough thing to attempt.  The anxiety let up after 12 weeks and we were happy to share our news with the world.

That 8 weeks from the time we found out until the time we were able to shout it out was undoubtedly the longest part of my pregnancy.  I wanted so bad to be able to tell everyone and to look pregnant, because I certainly felt pregnant.  I don't know why people say pregnancy feels like it lasts forever...overall, I thought it zoomed by in a flash.  Good thing too, because I remember feeling quite miserable towards the end.

I guess that's a story for another day.  Hope your day is a good one!

~C~

does BD mean Baby Dance or Bed Down?

Just wondering, because there are so many acronyms that you learn when you obsess over having a baby... anyway...

Before we were even married in 2003, DH (dear husband) and I had a ten year plan.  I don't think we ever called it that, but we had talked about how we hoped things would play out.  I would graduate from college in 2 years.  We would start trying for a baby in 4 years, and deliver that bouncing bundle of joy in no more than 5 years, and so on and so forth...

Well, it took 4 years to graduate from college.  When we had been married four years, I had been at my job for 2 months and wouldn't qualify for FMLA unless I worked there for 1 year at the time the baby was born.  Even then, I didn't feel right getting pregnant at the same time I was just getting my feet wet with my new social work-y, super stressful job.  Not to mention the fact that we. just. weren't. ready.

After 5 years, we started talking about it and decided that we would start TTC (trying to conceive) in the Fall of '08, because, well, wouldn't it be lovely to give birth in the Summer of '09?  We could put little sunbonnets on our newborn baby and life would be all daisies and butterflies.

The Fall of '08 rolled around and I heard about an Aflac disability policy that would mean I could get paid a nice little chunk of change for my maternity leave, so I signed up.  Problem:  You could give birth no less than 10 months after the policy activated.  Of course, to be safe, it seemed like the responsible (and non-money-wasting) thing to do to wait 2 months instead of 1, just in case said baby was born 4 weeks early.  Because naturally, I was going to conceive the very first try.

With the way things worked out, we ended up not being able or ready to start ttc until late November 2008.  Not too shabby...just in time for that Summer '09 babe.  I had thought of all kinds of cute ways to announce at Christmas to the in-laws and my family that we were expecting and knock their baby booties off with the surprise.  Two days before Christmas... AF (aunt Flo).  And of course she was 4 days late, just to be a wench.

No big deal, must have just been a fluke.  Our timing was off or something.  You know, because, you've spent your ENTIRE adult life trying NOT to get pregnant so it seems like the first time you have totally unprotected sex, BOOM!  Knocked up.  Uh uh.

January:  BFN (big fat negative), AF showed up
February:  lots of BFNs because AF didn't show up at all
March: BFN, AF.
April: BFN, AF.
May: BFN, AF.
June: BFN, AF.  And lots of crying because it had been 7 months since we started TTC and nothing.  This was supposed to be easy.  It's what a woman's body is biologically created to do, right?  Six unsuccessful cycles and trust me, we weren't just "winging it," we were taking advantage of just about every product on the market that is intended to increase fertility and chances of getting that ever-evasive BFP (getting the hang of this?). 

I researched fertility on the internet.  I talked to my doctor.  I read forums and Yahoo! Answers.  I bought books about fertility.  And then a friend bought me the book Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which is all about charting your ass off and taking your temperature every day, etc.  I won't go into the ooey gooey (heh heh) details of it all, but I started charting.  Coincidence or not, I don't know, but ...

July '09: BFP!!!!

The day we found out was the day after our 6th wedding anniversary and I kicked myself for not obsessively taking the test the day before I was technically supposed to, like I had every month before.  I was in shock and disbelief.

It was 8 months from the time we started trying until we got that BFP and it felt like a lifetime.  Every month was full of anticipation and heartbreak, followed by growing feelings of desperation.  And we were still in the "normal" range of how long it takes a couple to conceive.  I cannot imagine struggling with fertility for years on end like some folks we have known.  I was already trying to decide if fertility treatments were in our future and if that was the road we would choose if we were unable to conceive on our own.  I had received some disappointing news from my doctor when I had labs done and had begun to give up.  Already....after 6 unsuccessful cycles!  I feel for those who have to try for a long time to get pregnant, because once you have that desire in your heart, you can't turn it off.

My pregnancy story to come at a later date...

~C~

losing the baby weight

Getting fat was one of my biggest fears about getting pregnant.  I maaaaay have even subconsciously put off getting pregnant as a result of this fear.  I wasn't afraid of the kind of "fat" that happens because you are currently pregnant (I advocate for healthy pregnancy weight gain).  I'm referring to the extra 20, 30, 40+ pounds that some people carry for years after baby.  The kind of extra weight that makes it uncomfortable when you cross your legs or try to get up from a cushy chair.  The kind of extra weight that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin.

I assumed that after I had a baby, I would have flappy skin that hung down to my knees, and I was positive that my belly would be covered in stretch marks that made my tum tum look like a road map.  I knew for certain that my bikini wearing days would be a thing of the past.  To be honest, I was sure of that before I ever got pregnant because my weight had escalated to the highest it had ever been in my life.  I had surrendered to the notion of being a big girl from there on out when we decided to have a baby.

After trying to conceive for the better part of a year (another day, another blog), I found the motivation to take control of my steady weight gain and dropped 13 pounds in about 6 weeks by incorporating calorie counting (and logging), portion control, and lots of exercise.  Bada bing bada boom, I got pregnant, thereby putting the brakes on my diet.  I couldn't have been happier... that was 13 pounds I wouldn't have to lose later. 

By 28 weeks gestation, I had gained 27 pounds.  That was not exactly on track with the recommended 25-35 pound recommended gain.  I had slipped back into overeating and the holidays were not kind to me or my will power.  At 30 weeks, I got a bomb dropped on me.  A big fatty boombalatty bomb.  I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes.  Yuck.

I was put on a strict diet/eating schedule.  I lost 4 pounds in the first couple of weeks after my diagnosis but then slowly began putting some weight back on as Theodore rapidly grew.  By the end of my pregnancy, I'd gained a nice, even, OB/GYN-recommended 30 pounds.  Though I was initially devastated to learn that I had Gestational Diabetes, in retrospect I am thankful because I ate healthier than I ever had during those last 9 weeks of pregnancy.  It was good for me, good for the baby, and I was diet-controlled throughout (I didn't have to take Insulin).

I gave birth on a Monday and by that Friday, I'd lost 10 pounds.  A week later, 17.  Two and a half weeks post partum, I'd lost 21.  Aaaaaand cut.  I thought the rest of the weight was there to stay.

I didn't lose an ounce from 3 weeks postpartum until I went back to work at 12 weeks postpartum.  10 pounds FELL OFF with no effort whatsoever in the next 6 weeks or so.  I do believe this is tied in with breastfeeding, as I recently read an article saying that you get the most weight loss benefit out of breastfeeding between 3-6 months.  Since then, I've lost another 5 or so. 

Total weight gain during pregnancy: 30 pounds
Total weight loss 5 months postpartum:  36 pounds

I realize that with breastfeeding, I am burning an extra 500 calories or so a day.  As that decreases, I will have to watch my calorie intake and remain active, both of which have been problematic in the past.  I'm finally comfortable with my weight ... more so than I had been for 2-3 years before I had a baby.  Sure, my stomach is softer and my hips are wider now, but these are small prices to pay.  For the first time in a long time, I can say I'm happy with my body.  Would I have been happy with this body 5 or 10 years ago?  Probably not, but it is what it is.

At the end of the day, I don't believe that weight loss success has anything to do with numbers, rather it is a feeling. It's feeling healthy and energetic and having the desire to move. It's fitting into the clothes you want to wear and liking what you see in the mirror.

I hope that if anyone else out there is scared of the pregnancy weight gain, maybe this will lend a little encouragement.  It CAN be done!  My only advice:  Breastfeed, breastfeed, breastfeed.  (I don't mean this to sound rude if you can't or choose not to...I'm just saying this was the secret to my success.  With that being said, I do realize that losing the weight was easy for me, but I DID have to work hard to successfully breastfeed, therefore I think I deserved and was a recipient of the easy weight loss by default).

 ~C~


p.s. About the stretch marks:  I was diligent about putting on Burt's Bees Mama Bee belly butter every single day.  That, drinking lots of water, and slow, steady weight gain may have saved me ... I only got two stretch marks (one on each hip).  I may choose not wear a bikini again, but it wouldn't be the scariest thing ever if I did!