Days Like This

Sometimes you're the windshield and sometimes you're the bug.
Mark Knopfler

The last couple of days have been nothing short of miserable.
On Tuesday, I came millimeters away from dropping out of school and, in fact, have yet to make a decision about whether or not I will stick with it. However, after 5+ years toward a degree, dropping out 2 months before the end seems absolutely crazy...

I have two midterms in Latin today. Because of all the craziness surrounding the move I got very behind in my Latin studies. Though I have been working hard ever since that time, language is so cumulative- you can't really make up for time lost. Failing a midterm is basically sealing your fate. I learned this my sophomore year after misreading the time of a final and showing up 30 second AFTER it was over. My professor turned a deaf ears to my pleas for mercy and, although I had a B in the course up until that point, that one F caused me to flunk the entire class. It is the only F I have ever gotten in my entire life on anything besides a 6th grade math test. And it sucked.

I can't remember a time any longer when my life was not hectic. It has been at least a year and a half. Things have settled down for a brief period.. but they are really only going to get worse from here. We start our Prepared Childbirth Classes next month and we have less than three to get ready for Liam. His nursery is a complete mess and we have very little of anything we actually need for him. The house is also still not in working order; things - BIG THINGS- have to be done before the baby gets here because, otherwise, they just will not get done at all. Or they will be done poorly. I have a 20 page senior seminar paper that will be due near the end of the semester in which I basically have to prove I am ready to graduate and which I cannot settle on a topic for. I also have to create an online portfolio of my entire college career- a nearly impossible task considering the scattering of my education. I will also have 3 finals- plus any normal assignment that comes up. On top of this the commute alone takes 8 hours (and two entire days when I stay with my parents) out of my week.

The problem is.. this is not an "if at first you don't succeed" situation. I pretty much have one shot to get it right or my academic transcripts are marred forever. If I were to withdraw and return later- I would have a much better chance of succeeding and I would not have to worry about making up for failing grades. But I just can't bring myself to give up either.

On top of this, the stress is considerably overwhelming. I have been in similar situations before and, besides a fair amount of whining, I handled it with no problem. I have worked full-time while going to school full-time and trying to plan a wedding. I have been making the trek back and forth between Kennesaw and Chattanooga for two years. But being pregnant makes everything more difficult. Waking up, getting out of bed, focusing on school, just moving my large body from place to place is a challenge... even the drive is uncomfortable.

I got about 4 hours of sleep Tuesday night; between worrying about what to do and this strange pain that has made its way into my abdominal muscles, I was tossing and turning. I spent the ENTIRE DAY cramming for these tests and I figured last night, I would pass out with no problem. I was nodding off against the cart at Wal-mart, waiting for Ryan to pick out the type of hot dogs he wanted (although to my credit, it took the man 7 full minutes to decide- I mean.. seriously?!). But that was not to be- after crawling into bed at 11 p.m., I woke up clutching my stomach in pain. I am guessing that my abdominal muscles are seperating... it is the only thing that makes sense. I went to look at the clock, praying that it would be almost time for me to get up anyway because I knew I was not getting back to sleep and when I saw that is was only 1 a.m.- I pretty much broke down. Then I found myself boiling water in an attempt to get a bath warm enough to tolerate (our water pressure at the house is horrible and lukewarm at best). When that did not help, I tried a warm washcloth and finally at 2:30 a.m. made my way to the drugstore for some Tylenol and heatwraps. They seemed to work somewhat and I finally nodded off around 4 a.m.- waking two or threee more times to pee before the alarm clock started blaring at 7 a.m.

When I get to work this morning- I find out that my boss had told me the days of their vacation wrong and I could have had the day off (which would have been wonderful because I really need more time to study for my tests) but "since I was here anyway"... I get to hang out with all four kids while they run errands and stuff, which would be nice except it hurts to move and I am exhausted and I really, really, really need to study.

I am feeling very squished at the moment- definitely the bug running headfirst into the windshield. I am not entirely sure how to handle it all. Ryan is worried about the baby- he has been the one encouraging me to stay in school (along with my parents) and all of the sudden he is whistling a different tune after looking up what stress can do during development. Considering Liam is already small, I have to admit I am a little concerned as well.

My mother went crazy for a minute Tuesday night and told me she thought I should quit too.. but then sent me a text the next morning begging me not to.

It is a lot to figure out and I do not have a lot of time to do it in.
And... I am being beckoned to go play monkey in the middle.

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Retrospection

Remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.
Epicuris

While this has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this post... I have to mention that my little bug turned one yesterday! One!

It seems impossible: impossible that he has been on the planet for an entire year and just as impossible that he has only been here for a single year. He has been both a holy terror and the greatest joy and he has taught me oh, so very much.

He is currently sitting next to me in his high chair having a very deep and meaningful conversation with his Cheerios. He picks each up one at a time, inspects them thoroughly, and gives them an individual pep talk that is something along the lines of, "AH! Daaaaaaaaaa! Bo-bo. Ba. Da. Ah. Ba. Ohhhhhs!" before consuming them with gusto. Every time I look at him (which is just about every three seconds because he is so dang cute) he gives me his adorable cheeky grin and giggles. He is pretty much pure trouble and I am completely convinced he is an evil genius who is harboring horrible plans for world domination in that chubby little head and is busy turning us all into his minions.... but I will gladly be his minion if he keeps smiling at me like that and giving me cuddles. (Though he is more than welcome to stop scaring the crap out of me by learning things like HOW TO CRAWL UP THE STAIRS!)

Like I said, that is not at all what this post is about....but it must be mentioned: Happy Birthday, my little man!

Moving On. [This is long- but it is more for me than you.. so get over it. ;)]

I think I may have mentioned once or twice that this pregnancy was unplanned. I mean completely... and totally... %100 unplanned. In fact, I think the term "unplanned" is not actually very accurate because we were planning.... on not having kids for a good two or three years. And we thought that we were doing the things people do when they are planning on not having kids.

Ryan and I were married in January of this year- yeah, this one... right here. 2009. He proposed in June (in the most wonderful way that you will just have to ask me about sometime because I love to tell that story) and we had a pretty short engagement due to circumstances beyond our control. We weren't even living in the same state and we were both leading crazy lives: I was working 40 hours a week and going to school full-time in Georgia and he was working two jobs in Tennessee. We saw each on weekends.. if we were lucky. Our wedding was mostly planned by my mother and I learned a good lesson in just letting things go. While it was basically the opposite of anything I would ever plan for myself, it turned out nicely and I believe people had a good time. That was all Ryan and I really wanted: a big party with all of our friends to celebrate this great thing.

Most people probably don't start their baby story with their wedding story but considering Liam was conceived less than three months after our wedding day- it seemed appropriate.

After being on birth control for about six months, (three before we were married and three after) I just could not do it anymore. Ryan and I decided we would go with something that did not screw with my hormones quite so much. So after I finished my last pack, I did not get the prescription refilled.

And here is where it gets fun, folks: [Ahem] I took my last birth control pill on April 1st and Liam was conceived on April 4th.
Yeah. Really. Of course, we did not know that.

[Now the next bit of this post may be a bit TMI but you have that fool-proof little X in the upper right hand corner of your screen... so use liberally if you are uncomfortable.]

For the month of April our preferred method of birth control was condoms. On April 17th, I got my period and all was well (or so we thought). However, in addition to having sensitive hormones, I am also blessed with a sensitive vagina- it not only disapproved of latex condoms but also of any alternatives (we are now the proud owners of an entire drawer of completely useless contraceptive of various brands). So in May I asked Ryan if he would be comfortable with charting instead. He agreed with only mild hesitation. We figured that, coupled with pulling out, it probably was not that risky.

In early June I began to become increasingly aware of pregnant women and babies- they were EVERYWHERE. They were stalking me. Facebook was sending me ads asking me if I was pregnant. Wal-mart wanted to know if I needed coupons on diapers. I was having dreams about babies and it was all very weird.

One weekend morning, Ryan and I went to brunch. I waited 20 minutes for them to bring out a fresh pot of my favorite Hazelnut coffee. I glanced at the coffee bar every three minutes, knees shaking in anticipation. When it came...I got my cup, fixed it up, smiled contentedly, took one sip... and my stomach turned. There was nothing wrong with the coffee. I just could not stomach it. I poured the rest out sadly and Ryan joked, "You need to take a pregnancy test." I happened to have one at home so, when we got there, I laughed about feeling like the world was impregnating me and went to pee on the stick just to settle my mind.

You know how it says to wait three minutes to read your results on those things? Yeah. Try three seconds! It immediately turned positive and I screamed at the top of my lungs for Ryan. He choked out a response... knowing I would not be yelling for him under normal circumstances. I walked to the top of the steps. We stared at each other: I was as white as death and he was as red as a tomato. I laughed. Then I swallowed. Then I stumbled down the stairs. Then I stared. Then I started sobbing. I showed Ryan the test. He hugged me. I snotted all over his shirt. He smiled. I kept apologizing for ruining our lives. He kept telling me I had nothing to apologize for. This cycle repeated itself for a good two hours.

When I finally calmed down I realized... there was NO WAY this test was correct. I needed to take at least two more before I freaked out. Over the course of a week, I ended up taking six: every single one was positive. Positive. Positive. Positive. Yet, because I had no symptoms- beyond that one little, tiny coffee incident- I somehow convinced myself that there was something else going on. I thought maybe I had been pregnant but miscarried very early and the hormones were still working their way out of my system... or maybe the bladder infection I was also suffering from somehow screwed with the results of the test. ANYTHING besides an actual human being growing inside of me. So I went to AAA Women's Services- their medical level pregnancy test.... was positive. The nurse on staff laughed at my denial and made me promise to go to the doctor. So, we made the appointment.

I will spare you the details of that first office visit- what with the paperwork and the "when was the date of your last menstrual cycle?" (to which I answered April 17th with a fair amount of confidence) and the peeing in the cup and whatnot. But it ended with a wand shoved up my vagina and a picture on the screen that looked like this:

Except.. you know.. moving and alive... and MOST DEFINITELY A BABY!

And the doctor says, "Well, you are a little bit farther along than you think you are." Because that period I had in April was apparently no such thing.. so we somehow got pregnant while using condoms and all the anxiety over whether or not we were charting right was for nothing. And the first thing I think is, "Oh, shit." Which is not a really pretty thing to think when you are looking at your very first child for the very first time.. but I thought it anyway because Ryan and I went to Atlanta for a weekend once and I drank... and finals were in May and I lived in coffee shops and sometimes had upwards of 5 cups of coffee a day and I freaking LOVED the heck out of some sushi! And all these things are running through my head at high speed until the doctor says, "And everything looks great!"

Then I could breathe.. but only for a second and then it hit me: THAT IS AN ACTUAL BABY!

And Ryan had to lead me out of the doctor's office because I was pretty much a zombie... except when I would catch Ryan's eye and we would giggle... or i would look down at the picture in my hand and giggle.. or just giggle into space for no apparent reason. We kept the news to ourselves for almost a month and that was a very interesting and special time. We knew that once the news was out it would not be our secret any longer so we just enjoyed it.

Since then, I think we have gone back and forth about how we actually feel. There are days when it feels totally okay and days of hyperventilation. Sometimes fear just grips my heart because I know that I am not at all ready to be responsible for another human being and I know that if anything happens to him ever I will never be the same again and how can I handle that right now? Or ever, for that matter?!

However, I know that not only is this baby going to add something to our lives that we did not even know was missing.. but he is really going to make it better in so many ways. There have been numerous occasions when we realized that if we were not going to be having Liam Eliot right now, we would be missing out on something pretty amazing. Not just Liam himself... but other things in our lives that have been a direct result of his existence.

It is definitely going to be hard. And we are definitely still having our OH MY GOD! ARE YOU F*CKING SERIOUS?! moments. And I don't know that we will ever not have those moments. Even when Liam is 38 years old.

We were not even remotely prepared... but, you know, Ryan and I tend to need gentle nudging (or forceful shoving) to get us moving in any one direction most of the time. Just because it was not our timing.. doesn't mean it was not the right timing. And maybe there is never a right time- maybe this is just how life goes. You get thrown into the middle of something and it's sink or swim.

Better start paddling!

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Facio What?!

This is what I am doing:


And this is how I feel about it:



The end.

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The Home Stretch

Pregnant women! They had that weird frisson, an aura of magic that combined awkwardly with an earthy sense of duty. Mundane, because they were nothing unique on the suburban streets; ethereal because their attention was ever somewhere else. Whatever you said was trivial. And they had that preciousness which they imposed wherever they went, compelling attention, constantly reminding you that they carried the future inside, its contours already drawn, but veiled, private, an inner secret.

Ruth Morgan

Today...*drum roll please* I enter the third trimester. And as a wonderful present for making it this far, pregnancy has decided to punch me in the face.

Let's review, shall we:

Last night, between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m., I woke up four times to pee, thereby doubling my usual number of nocturnal bathroom excursions. Each time I propelled myself from the bed I noticed that my back and neck and feet were getting achier. At 4:00 a.m., I got into the shower in an effort to relieve the discomfort which had somehow climbed from a dull ache to a throbbing pain in a matter of two hours. While waiting for the water to get warm I stood in front of the mirror and noticed that not only am I breaking out in places I did not even know it was possible to break out in... but my nipples are now leaking at a fairly alarming rate (well, at least when compared to the rate of leakage a couple of weeks ago... namely.. little to none.)

The shower seemed to work but then I had to take three Tums before laying back down to try to sleep because I made the mistake of drinking a glass of water. Just as I started to drift off... Liam decided to practice his hardcore dance moves on my diaphragm. It felt a little something like this:

I finally fell asleep around 6:00 a.m. and then lugged my whale self out of bed around 9 in order to make an appointment. (It was for my CAP classes at AAA Women's Services.. which I will blog about one day soon because they are amazing.) I got up, got dressed, ate breakfast, got into my car, went to my appointment... walked inside... and then realized it was for NEXT WEEK.

Actually, that is not true.

I never realized it was for next week- I had to be told it was for next week by a very confused receptionist because Liam is stealing all my brain cells and, at the rate he is going, he better be a freaking genius. You think I am kidding.. but I am not: it is genius or bust.

So, I decide to go work on some homework (not actual homework.. which I should work on.. but AAA homework, which is much more fun). I start reading a pamphlet about bonding with your baby and there is a section titled, "Dad's Important Role." It is maybe two paragraphs about the relationship that can form between a father and his baby... and.. of course... I start bawling. Not quiet, normal "oh, how wonderful life will be" sniffles, but full-blown crazy preggo sobbing. In the middle of Starbucks. For approximately three minutes. And then I was fine.

In addition to all of this, I am pretty sure I spent the afternoon experiencing my first authentic Braxton-Hicks contractions and they were rather uncomfortable and it suddenly occured to me that one day in the not-so-distant future... I will actually be going into labor.

It also occurred to me that I have absolutely no experience with significant amounts of pain. I have never had stitches or broken a bone or had appendicitis. I have never even had real menstrual cramps. I did have pretty extensive jaw surgery when I was 18 but it was elective and the painkillers they gave me were basically amazing. It was mostly just uncomfortable because my mouth was wired shut for 8 weeks and my face blew up like a balloon... but I really did not feel too much as long as I popped my pills on time.

I mean.. my mom talks about how I never fell when I was learning to walk- I would lower myself to the ground gently... and the first time I skinned my knee I limped for a week. To this day, stubbing my toe or cutting my thumb is an earth-shattering event. I can sulk over it for hours.

So I don't do well with pain... at all, really. And I am beginning to think I might be a little naive to believe that I can walk into this situation which includes some of the most intense pain anyone ever feels ever in their life with absolutely no working knowlege of pain in general... and do it without intervention. I just don't know.

Well... anyway, the third trimester seems to be welcoming me with open arms. It honestly terrifies me to think about how fast the next three months are going to go by... but it is exciting at the same time. It is amazing how many changes Liam will be going through... and me too for that matter. We will see how it goes, eh?

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Oh, my...

There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
Sylvia Plath

I find the above quote amusing in a twisted sort of way considering Plath's fate. [She stuck her head in a gas oven and killed herself.. for those of you who are not fortunate enough to know that little tidbit of information compliments of my Senior Seminar class; we just finished studying her last week and my professor made us all promise not to go home and slit our wrists- her poetry is that uplifting.]

However, if it is true.. I could certainly have used a hot bath after my registry excursion yesterday. It was entirely overwhelming. I mean.. I know I said something about babies needing a lot of stuff, but it did not even remotely prepare me for just how much stuff babies need. Have I mentioned that babies need a lot of stuff?!

After three hours in the store with my handy-dandy checklist I decided to finish up online. This was a very good idea because you can read reviews of the products and I ended up making a lot of changes based on the ratings other moms have given. (Ha, ha. "other moms"- I wonder how long it takes to get used to that.) I got back online today and made a few more changes and now I think it is... in some manner of speaking... complete.

I know I will continue to edit and change things as I am given hand-me-downs and visit garage and consignments sales. Remember how I mentioned that our Target registry was mainly "big-ticket items?" It has now come to my attention that there is very little in the realm of baby that would not qualify as a big-ticket item. This crap is expensive! And it is all marketed as if babies did not survive for thousands of years without spa bathtubs and play mats that flash and whistle and sing and light up every time baby turns his head. And it is all "designed to aid in your baby's cognitive development." And so you are standing there thinking, "If my child does not have this exercise saucer with the dancing alligators, he will not develop cognitively and he will be stupid and IT WILL BE ALL MY FAULT!!" And so.. you scan it.

I did end up scanning a lot of things I am not sure I would personally enjoy having in my house.. but it is mostly because every time I say something about not wanting one of those vibrating, bouncing baby seats or hating toys that bleep and blip and have no off switch, my mother looks at me as if I just told her I plan on holding Liam upside down by his ankles whenever he cries and giving him bourbon to help him sleep at night.

I know she would just pick it up for me anyway.. so I would rather have at least some say.

I am very different than my mom when it comes to parenting philosophies, I think. When I was born I instantly became the center of her universe. She was completely incapable of talking about anything besides me, her schedule revolved around me, and our entire home was overtaken by my stuff. The truth is... I would have turned out to be a spoiled rotten brat if my brother had not come along when he did and saved me from her.

I, on the other hand, am looking forward to making Liam a part of my life- not trading it in at the hospital for him. Maybe it is different because my mother was an entire decade older than I am now when I was born, and she had been single up until a year and a half before (when she met my dad and married him in four months- yeah, that is an interesting story). So she had plenty of time before me to pursue her other interests and when I came along I just... was her interest.

But I am not quite there yet. I know that life will be put on hold for a bit while we adjust to life with Liam... but the point will be to adjust so that we can get ourselves back in control. That is just too much to put on a baby; an infant is not capable of creating a safe, happy, healthy environment for a family- that is our job. This is why we are planning on using PDF (parent directed feeding). It is also why I am not such a huge fan of all the various loud, flashy toys and gadgets that would be entirely capable of overtaking our small home. Clutter stresses me out and, besides that, this is the first time I have had a place to call my own- I am having fun decorating it and do not want the entire place overrun by Liam's things. I like simple and I think that he will be just fine with simple. I have also insisted that Ryan maintain his outside interests after Liam arrives- and he is willing to help me do the same. I think a huge part of raising a child is maintaining your own sanity.

So.. I tried to stay on the simple side when picking things out for Liam Eliot. I tried to find subtle patterns for the swing and highchair that would not entirely clash with our living room. Since I know he won't care less whether or not his towel makes him look like a little ducky or a cow- I just picked things I liked, since I am going to be the one staring at it all the time. And everything.. I mean absolutely everything, has an off switch.

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The Stuff of Life

It sometimes happens, even in the best of families, that a baby is born. This is not necessarily cause for alarm. The important thing is to keep your wits about you and borrow some money.

Elinor Goulding Smith

Every Tuesday after class I stay over at my parent's house because I have class again Wednesday night and nothing in between so there is really no point in making the trek back up to Chattanooga at 10:00 p.m. and returning to Kennesaw half a day later.

I usually bring a load of laundry with me and spend the day washing clothes, doing homework, and getting sucked into the cable vortex because, when all your television is capable of producing is that manic snow, even commercials are entertaining. And then you find yourself saying things like, "Hey! Have you seen that commercial where that mom finds the rollover minutes in the trashcan? It is so ironic and funny!" and people look at you like you are crazy because apparently that was ironic and funny about six months ago when it first aired and now it is just irritating. I generally watch Law and Order:SVU and Animal Cops.... or random home improvement shows and talk shows... because that is really all that is on in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, but, hey... beggars can't be choosers.

Anyway, all that to say.. THIS Wednesday is different. I have a load of laundry in the washing machine and as soon as I transfer it to the dryer (and make myself look like a human) I am off to register at Babies R Us.

Ryan and I discussed it and decided that, since I have a lot more tolerance for long shopping excursions and since I am also pickier about what we get for the baby, I will make the initial registry and then he can edit if he so chooses. (He said he did not care either way.. but I am pretty sure I heard a huge sigh of relief when I said I did not mind going alone.)

I got that suggestion from a book called first time Mom . It is honestly the best book I have read so far. It is amazingly simple and direct- just an honest look at one woman's complete experience. She really spares no details and she includes a TON of really helpful lists. She explains EVERYTHING from the moment her water broke (which, for her, happened before she went into labor) until her son was about 6 months old. I picked it up at the library and immediately knew I wanted it to keep... though I have yet to get my own copy. Sigh.

We already have a registry at Target but it is mostly for our family and ourselves as most of the stuff on that one are big ticket items like a crib and breast pump. I am really looking forward to creating this one because it will include all of those little things we will be using every day. Besides, I pretty much love browsing baby stores.. although, I can almost guarantee I will find at least ONE thing on sale that I just have to get. It is inevitable.

It is really incredible how much stuff one little, tiny baby needs. The day we found out we were pregnant, Ryan and I picked up a book at a used bookstore for 50 cents- the entire book is just a checklist of stuff you need to keep your baby alive. It doesn't even include any of the fun stuff like toys and books and cute little baby overalls; just the basics... and It. Is. An. Entire. Book.

All I can say is... THANK GOD FOR GRANDPARENTS!

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Round and Round She Goes

Everything grows rounder and wider and weirder, and I sit here in the middle of it all and wonder who in the world you will turn out to be.

Carrie Fisher

I do not even notice how much my belly has grown until I look back on pictures and see how much it has expanded in just a couple of weeks. It is honestly very bizarre... and I am surprised I have yet to experience a single stretch mark. *fingers crossed*

I suddenly have this new found appreciation for Santa Clause, with his "broad face and little round belly." I mean... how does the guy do it? Spending an entire evening lugging around a sack full of toys and going up and down chimneys with that gut?! I can hardly bend over to tie my shoes! And shaking like a bowl of jelly every time you chuckle just is not as jolly as they make it sound. Seriously. I respect that man.

And now, ladies and gentlemen.... I have an announcement to make:
*Ahem*
Are you ready for this?

.....I... have a.... mullet.
A mullet. Did you hear me? A MULLET.
Yes, my friends, a full-blown mullet. It's true.

I had recently decided to grow my hair long again as I have heard repeatedly the the ability to throw one's hair up into a pony tail rather than shower comes in quite handy when adjusting to life with a newborn... but since it has been over three months since my last haircut, I figured I needed to go in for a small trim just to make sure it was healthy.

Apparently.. going three months without a haircut is not such a great idea because your ends can split up and up and up... and then your "trim" just to "get it healthy" turns into four inches of length whacked off the back of your head. So.. there is that. And.. I probably should have been suspicious when I realized that the hip 40-something stylist with the pink, spikey punk hair that I ended up with had a star shaved out of the back of her head and bejeweled jeans- but... I wasn't. So there is that.

However, I did not fully realize the extent of the mullet until I got home. At which point I stood in front of the mirror for a good five minutes completely and utterly stunned. I then began to laugh hysterically.. because really, what else are you going to do?

I suppose when she realized that I was disappointed in how much we were going to have to cut off, the hairdresser decided to leave as much length as possible wherever possible- and so... MULLET.

And here I reveal it for your viewing pleasure:



Let me be honest in saying that these pictures do not fully capture the mullet-i-ness of this haircut. But it is hard to do that on my own since it is hard to snap pictures of the back of one's head and as we all know... THE PARTY IS IN THE BACK!

Oh, well... so is life.

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