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Still here, still pregnant

We’ve hit the 28 week marker. Time has moved so slowly I thought that I’d never get here. And now it’s third trimester time. Did I hit the uncomfortable stage of things this soon last time? I don’t remember. I’m already having trouble breathing and eating – where’d all the space go? At my last appointment, I was measuring a week ahead already. That prompted my doctor to go ahead and schedule a c-section.

Unfortunately, Thanksgiving gets in the way. And that means dates are limited, especially since I don’t want to go in on my other son’s birthday. I refuse to have two birthdays on the same day if I can avoid it.

So the doctor scheduled it the day after. Sigh. I don’t care about being in the hospital on Thanksgiving. I really don’t. But I am frustrated that I’m limited to two days just before then AND the doc chooses the 23rd. Why couldn’t he schedule it on the 24th and at least give us a day in between?

And don’t get me started on feeling like my choices have been taken away. My original due date was 11/29. But based on conception date, I know that’s early by at least 3 days. I didn’t get a chance to give him those details (and would he listen anyway?). Because of my gestational diabetes, he doesn’t want me to go to my due date. In fact, he apparently doesn’t want me to get too close to that since it’s possible my son will be big.

Let’s face it. i have a big family. I don’t think it has a lot to do with diabetes. We’re just big people. My other son was 9 lbs. 10 oz. My uncle was either 10 or 11 lbs. when he was born. Another uncle, other side of the family, was somewhere in the 6′ 6″ range as an adult. My hubby is 6′ 2″ See? Big people.

If I’m “lucky” I’ll go into labor on my own. But since the c-section is a week early and my last son was late, that’s not looking likely.

I was really angry and upset when I first got the news. Now I just feel resigned to it. The ultimate goal is a healthy baby and mommy, no matter how we get there. I just really hate feeling that my choices are limited. I was really hoping this pregnancy would be different. Instead we’re hearing the same tune just three years later.

And that’s part of why I’ve been avoiding much personal blogging. It all turns into angry rants or whining. And who really cares? It could be much worse. At least I’m not in the hospital on bed rest, unable to work or take care of my son.

One thing I’m dreading is caring for my older son while trying to recover from a c-section. Did I mention that he weighs 44 lbs.? Yeah, there will be no lifting him out of the crib in the mornings. Which is one reason why my husband is pushing to get him a toddler bed – one that he can crawl in & out of. (That still won’t help with diaper changes, though, which we do on our waist-high bed.)

I’m a mess. Have been the entire pregnancy. Worried about money. About how I’ll care for two kids at home by myself. How my older son will react to mommy’s attention going to the wee babe. How I’ll miss this wonderful time with my older son. We are such good buddies. Man, I love that little guy. But I don’t want to write a bunch of anxiety down, lest my younger son someday think he wasn’t wanted. He really is. So much so. But I haven’t done anything to prepare for his arrival — which is now ELEVEN weeks away thanks to the surgery — nor have I taken more than 2 weekly belly pics. Last time? Took a ton. This time? Not many. I wonder how I’ll give both of them adequate attention when I don’t even feel like I give ONE child enough attention (thanks to having to work so many dang hours – another story in itself).

See? Even I don’t want to listen to me anymore. Hence posts about anything or everything except my pregnancy. Or nothing at all.

I suppose I could write about how much I loathe both of my downstairs neighbors right now, BOTH of whom are doing remodeling. I hate it with a burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. Wouldn’t you think it would be, I don’t know, courteous to let your neighbors know that you’ll be starting some noisy remodeling? Especially those that you KNOW have small children? Yeah, none of that. I hate this place. Hence my looking for a 2 BR closer to hubby’s work. But those are way out of our price range. Actually, EVERYTHING is out of our price range. And I feel trapped. Another source of anxiety.

I really hope all of my stress doesn’t affect the wee babe, too much. But it probably has considering that it affects my eating and blood sugar numbers. See? Mommy fail AGAIN. I just want this to be over with so we can go visit my family and decompress for a month or so. Really hoping that helps. I need a break. I need to stop worrying about money, living quarters, my car that’s going to need a lot of work soon, working too hard for too little… I need something. I just wish I knew what it was.

There comes a point in time

There comes a point where the words just won’t come. You don’t set out to leave a heavy post, or just leave people hanging. A few days go by, you convince yourself that you’ll be back. But the longer you’re gone, the harder it is to find the right words. A subject, any subject. I don’t subscribe to writer’s block. Yet, there is something on the periphery of my vision, something that distracts me and pulls me away. Or maybe it’s that inner voice that tells me I’m not good enough, interesting enough, or even remotely funny enough.

And maybe I listen just a tiny bit too much. Or not enough. Or… see how it goes? It’s a constant rabbit hole – changing direction, telling me I’ll be out soon. But I never quite find my way out, instead burrowing deeper into that hole. Burying my head? I don’t know.

I suppose we all go through times where we doubt ourselves, especially the constant navel-gazing that occurs in the blog world. I want to reach out, to connect. And I forget how. I compare myself to others, wondering how they manage to connect to the thoughts of so many people, while I connect to so few.

I wonder if I should just go back to pen and paper? And yet, I love writing so much and I’ve been doing it for so long that I just can’t fathom quitting. And here we are. Brick wall, meet impasse.

I thought at 35 I’d know a little more of what I want, who I am, where I want to be. I do, but I don’t. Today, this week, this month? I’m in the ‘I don’t’ phase.

Can you feel stuck and yet grateful for your freedom at the same time? I love what I do, love the people I work with. I have the best office mate one could want, even if he does tend to stand by my chair and yell. But it’s never enough money and some of the goals we have will, frankly, require a lot more than what we have right now.

Therein lies the (one of many) rub. More money, limited time. How does one do it without chasing too many projects? We can only cut our budget so far.

So many thoughts, and it’s so hard to organize them coherently. Please tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me you go through this sometimes, too. I think I need to hear it right now.

Face of earth found when I fell off of it

We’ve been at my parents’ house for the last two weeks. I keep sitting down at the keyboard and walking away, unsure of what to say. There’s so much going through my head and heart right now. Writing usually helps me make sense of it. But sometimes I just have no idea where to start.

Those of you that have grandparents nearby – ones who are involved and love to see the kids – are so very lucky. And I wish I could give that to my parents. I want them to see their grandson all the time. And that’s just not possible right now. It kills me every time I think about it. Therefore, I try not to think about it too much.

My parents are so cool with the little guy and their great-granddaughter. I love watching them all together. It fills my heart so full I think it’ll burst. I just sit and watch, taking it all in, trying to memorize everything. So much so that I forget to break out the video camera and capture some of it. (Including Christmas Eve with the whole family – commence head smacking maneuvers.)

So what’s the problem? It’s not enough. This time with them. Their time with the kids. I love watching my mom and dad help the kiddo walk. He wants someone to help him walk everywhere. He loves it. It won’t be long until he’ll be taking off on his own – his balance gets better every day.

And when the Boobah crawls from the living room to the kitchen, where it’s tiled, he gets up on his tiptoes and crawls with his little bottom stuck in the air. It’s hysterical to us. So is his attitude – he is so stubborn and knows exactly what he wants. He won’t take any less. And he’s strong. He pushes his big truck – one that’s designed for him to walk behind – around with one hand. If you’re not careful, he’ll shove against you so hard that he’ll push himself right out of your arms.

He’s funny, silly, goofy, and just so much fun to be around. I’m trying to be grateful for the time we all have together instead of lamenting that it’s not enough. It’s so wonderful to have the extra hands, the extra help around. It really does help keep me from feeling so overwhelmed. And maybe I’ll be able to take some of that calmness back home, when it’s just me at home with the kid trying to get work, housework, and everything else done while keeping the kid out of trouble and entertained. Some days – maybe most days – that’s a tall order.

My family is such a gift. I need to be grateful for what we have, instead of crying about what we don’t have. But wanting to be near them is a strong motivator to get things in order and move. With low interest rates and falling real estate prices, it’s actually a perfect time to do so. I wish we could. Oh, how I wish we could.

How do you process something like this, anyway?

If you follow me on Twitter, you saw a lot of posts about the F-18 crash in my neighborhood yesterday.

Let me start by saying that the kiddo and I had left our house about a 1/2 hour before. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, just getting out of the house with the boy. Mondays are my day off so it’s perfect for a short jaunt. We wound up meeting my husband at Costco and doing a little last-minute shopping before we head to visit family for the holidays.

When we got back into our cars, we heard the news on the radio. My heart froze for a minute. Would we come back to a home? Maybe that sounds a little melodramatic, but that’s what goes through your head at first when you don’t know exactly what happened nor where. We knew it was our neighborhood, which really isn’t that big.

As we heard more, we figured out it was just down the road a bit. Less than a mile. Really not that far at all, considering the size of San Diego.

More details poured in over the afternoon, and I found myself unable to break away from the news. I needed to know more. Was it someone we knew? A classmate of our daughter? Eventually they started giving the house address. A wave of relief swept over me and then I immediately felt bad.

Some man went to work one day, and before lunch his whole world was gone. Wife, two kids, and the grandmother. The entire house. Instantly gone. No warning. No way of preventing. Just gone.

Let me stop here for a moment. I believe that the pilot truly did everything he could to avoid hitting the homes. He was headed for a canyon, trying to make it there. He stayed in the plane until it was seconds from the ground. What more could he have done? I think he’ll be beating himself up enough as it is. I think the calls for the military to leave Miramar are ridiculous. I don’t feel like saying more on that topic right now.

I cannot imagine losing my whole family in one swoop. It makes me sick just thinking about it. How would you go on? My heart goes out to that poor family. It’s awful.

I couldn’t get to sleep last night for quite a while. I couldn’t get my brain to quiet down, to stop thinking about this. You try to protect your family the best you can. But you can’t control everything. I want to, dammit, but you can’t. And that’s what keeps me awake. The things you absolutely can’t plan for.

I have to distract myself, think about other things like fluffy bunnies and kittens. And puppies. Because if I don’t, I’ll think too much about what I would do if I lost my baby. Or my husband. It could easily drive you crazy. If I lost them both at once, I think you’d have to cart me off to the looney bin. Seriously. I don’t think I could handle it.

So I have to force my mind to other things. Think about what I do have, And remember how fleeting life truly is. It makes all the little irritations just drift away. Because in the end? It’s all just small stuff.

I hug my little boy a little closer, remind myself to be kinder to my husband, and enjoy what we do have. And be extremely freaking grateful for it. Extremely.

When words fail

I have so much going on in my head right now. It’s hard to make sense of it all myself, much less put it in order for anyone else.

I’m fine, hubby’s fine, baby’s fine. Just busy, and trying to find my way through all of the crap in my head.

We’re waiting to see how much my insurance will be on COBRA. Should find out sometime soon. I am dreading that letter, as I expect it to take everything I’m making right now – and possibly more.

Still trying to find a way to get it all done. It never gets done, but I’d like to get a better handle on things. more…