No Smoking

I work at Children's Hospital in Aurora and our entire campus is smoke and tobacco free.  There is no smoking anywhere on campus and signs are posted ALL over.  I love it.

So when I smell smoke anywhere on campus, I know it's a rare thing and that someone nearby is breaking the rules--and I'm not above letting them know that.  It's easy to tell them that they can't smoke on campus and why: we have babies and kiddos that are being treated for many different illnesses, many of which are respiratory, and it is especially harmful for those patients to be exposed to smoke and tobacco.  It even states in our employee handbook that it is a violation of policy for employees to smell of smoke while working.

We don't have designated smoking areas.  You just can't smoke on campus.  Did I mention that I love it!?

So this morning when I took the shuttle over to the main hospital from our administrative building across the street (where we watch people from our windows who walk almost to the limit of the property to smoke but usually stop right in front of the "no smoking" sign to light up), I was shocked to see someone standing right outside the parking garage smoking.  As the van pulled up, I looked at the man and shook my head.  When the van stopped and I opened my door, he started walking away.  And I chased him--belly and all!

I said, "excuse me, sir?" (Nothing).  I kept going, "sir? excuse me!"  He turned to me and I said, "I'm sorry, but you can't smoke here."  He looked me right in the face and through some thick accent (English is not his first language) he said, "I'm not smoking."  Umm, what?! I pointed to the burning cigarette butt in his hand and said, "What?!" I repeated myself, "you can't smoke here."  He gestured to me as if to offer me a cigarette, "You?" he offered, looking right at my pregnant belly.  I laughed and said, "No! You need to go across the street," and I pointed, waving to the end of the hospital's property.  He turned and started walking, and I did the same.

Now, I'm sure he had no intention of going all the way to the end, his butt was almost completely burned down, but it just makes me laugh at the ignorance and selfishness of people. 

I approached another guy once who was on the phone outside the main entrance of the hospital.  I had no problem interrupting his conversation to inform him of the rules of our smoke-free campus.  He tried to hide the butt behind him and told me that "it was out."  NO, it wasn't.  So I stared him down, and when he went back to his phone conversation telling the other person on the end of the line that this (beep)ing person was telling him that he couldn't (beep)ing smoke, I held my stance and stared some more.  He turned to me and yelled, "what?! It's out!"  It wasn't, but I shook my head and walked away.

It's just not worth it for the sake of the kiddos inside that building.  I'm sure that last guy was the dad or relative of a sick kid, and I feel for him.  And maybe that's his way of dealing with the stress of why they're here in the first place.  But we have rules, and for many reasons, those rules need to be followed. 

As an employee of the hospital, while I may not be clinical and actually treat the patients, I feel like it's the least I can do for them to keep them from smelling the cigarette smoke.  I'd want the same for my kids.

My Easter Story

Easter season always excites me, as it is my "re-birthday."  In other words, I was born again in Christ on Easter 19 years ago.  This morning, I found myself wanting to get up and cheer in church as the pastor told the story of Christ's resurrection.  He conquered death!!

But back up to when I was 10 years old.  My family went to church on Easter Sunday (this was not a regular occurrence for us before this, we went on Easter and Christmas usually...)  We attended Cherry Hills Community Church's service at Fiddler's Green--oh the crowd that shows up every year!  I knew many faces from school, but I still felt like a visitor.  However, during his sermon, Pastor Jim Dixon prayed a prayer for those in the congregation that would make the decision to follow Jesus.  I had probably heard it before, and I've heard many times since, but it always starts, "Come into my heart, Lord Jesus..."  I can hear Pastor Dixon's voice with those words.  Something in me changed this time when I heard him speak that phrase.  But after service, our Easter progressed just as it had before: we went home, dove back into our Easter baskets that we had received that morning (stuffed bunnies and all), got ready for family to come over, may have done an egg hunt in the back yard, played with our cousins, ate way too much yummy food, and went to bed. 

Except 19 years ago, I couldn't go to sleep (and not because of the sugar rush).  I remember laying in my bed, the rest of my family had gone to sleep too, lights were out, and I just could not focus on anything but that phrase I'd heard earlier that morning: "come into my heart, Lord Jesus."  Yes!  I wanted that!  I needed to say that prayer and be changed!!

So I got out of bed, crept into my parents' room, woke up my Dad and climbed in between my parents.  I told them that I had really heard what the pastor said that morning and I wanted to pray that prayer.  My memory serves that my Mom started crying, and my Dad got up to go get my sisters out of their bed (or maybe I was sent for them)... Either way, all five of us crammed onto the bed and in our sleepiness, we prayed as a family.  It was a defining moment for me, and I can still picture it.

My Dad helped me with the words to say to Jesus to invite him into my heart and into my life.  We prayed together as I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, recognizing that he had died for me and now lives in my heart.  My sisters had already made this commitment and each have their own stories, so it meant a lot that they were present for my moment.

Then, as a family we decided to make a commitment together to regularly attend church. And we did! The next Sunday I remember my parents walking me into the fourth grade Sunday school class where I met two girls: Amanda and Danielle.  I don't know where they are now, but they were my Sunday school friends for many years after that.  In fact, later that summer, my family chose to be baptized--all of us together--and my friend Danielle's family did it at the same time.  I remember feeling so special and so proud that our family would all do that together "in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit" (DUNK!) 

On the way home from church this morning, I heard a song on the radio (by Casting Crowns, adapted from the hymn "One Day") that has become my Easter song, and you don't find many of those.  Christmas carols? Too many to count! Easter songs?  Ummm... But the chorus has really touched my heart and excites me every time I hear it and picture the transition from God's life, to death, to life again:

Living He loved me.

Dying He saved me.

Buried He carried my sins far away.

Rising He justified reigning forever.

And one day He's coming, oh glorious day!

Oh glorious day!!



Happy Easter, everyone.  He is RISEN!!!

Oxymoron: Financial Peace

On March 2, 2011, John and I began our journey with Dave Ramsey in Financial Peace University.

 

 

We are just over halfway done (13 lessons in all) and have made GREAT progress!! We are learning A TON and it has spurred very healthy and fruitful--and honest--conversation between us.  For the first time in our marriage (maybe our lives, but I won't speak for John), we are living by a budget.  In the past, we put together more of what I call a "recap" of our monthly earnings.  But that didn't really do a whole lot for us besides depress us, and we didn't take every category down to pennies. Our recap was more of a 1,000 foot snapshot of what we "thought" we were spending.  But, there was no hard structure to it, nor was there any consequence if the total at the bottom was negative and the next month looked totally different.  I guess it was more of an exercise in futility.

Also in this class, we have learned the importance of when and how often we talk about the budget.  John has a mind for numbers and with his school and studies right now, he's on the computer all the time... so it's safe to say that he thinks, analyzes and sees the dollar signs much more often than I do.  And that's still okay  and it works for us (and him!)  We have a family budget meeting about once a week to keep a handle on our budget for April since it's the first time we've really had to challenge ourselves to live by it. 

And you know what?  So far, it's working!!  We were even able to go out to dinner (and dessert!) with my whole family last night to celebrate my birthday, and we came in under budget for that outing! That's great!!  It's really makes us think about where our money is going, how far we can stretch that dollar, and ask ourselves, "do we really need this or that?"  Our new and freeing answer: NO.

This morning, after breakfast, we underwent a little plastectomy (a Dave Ramsey term), and it looked something like this:

OUCH!!  Two of those are John's.  The other one--the red one--has been paid off and closed... and yes, it hurt a little.  That pretty red card has been my safety net for almost six years.  Okay, that's disgusting.  We have a new safety net now, and it feels MUCH safer and MUCH better.

When we fulfilled the first Baby Step in the class (set up an Emergency Fund), we went to our nearest credit union and opened a mutual fund.  In doing so, we received a copy of our credit report and scores (ewwww).  John and I have studied our reports, and in the last few days, we have CLOSED 5 credit accounts between us that were either sitting idle or were just paid off.  There are still a few left, but we're working on those with the lesson we learned about the "Debt Snowball."  Again great progress made there.

In the debt lesson, we saw a video of a cheetah chasing a gazelle:



Dave pointed out that in that situation, we are the gazelles and our creditors are the cheetahs.  Or (if you've been through FPU): CHEEEEEEEEEETTAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   And right now, we are killing our cheetahs.  One by one.  And are thrilled about it. 

Now, every time a new credit card offer hits our mailbox, we raise it up in the air and yell "CHEETAH!!!" then quickly drop it in the shred box.    That feels good! Actually, it feels more like this:



See?  No more cheetah!! 

I can't wait to post with the title: WE'RE DEBT FREE!!!  Stay tuned for that momentous day!!

The Artist in Me

Last night, I went out with a group of ladies from work to Canvas & Cocktails.  It was so much fun!!  We went to their website, chose a painting we wanted to do and when we noticed that the night was a fundraiser for the March of Dimes, we signed up!

Here is the painting we chose, "Red Trees":

Tree, flowers... call 'em what you like.  I love decorating with red in my home, so I loved it!!

At C&C, you start with a blank canvas (all paints and supplies are provided), and the instructor stands at the front and walks you through the painting STEP-BY-STEP.  Really, it's dummy-proof.  A couple gals from work were very nervous about it, stating that they had zero artistic ability.  Well, the great thing about C&C is that you don't have to! Everyone's turns out completed different, and it's a blast to do!  The instructor will give you instructions, then crank up the music and let you paint.  Oh, and don't forget the "cocktails" part of the evening, the flowing wine helps some with their paintings immensely.

Now, I will warn you, if you're a Type A person (like me), or a little OCD (as I admittedly am), this is more a challenge for you because you want your painting to look exactly like the instructors.  And mine usually do.  Haha!!  I mean, when she said to start with yellow 3/4 of the way down the canvas, I wanted to pull my ruler out--until she said "Type A's: don't worry about a ruler or perfection, just eyeball it."  Oh man!  And when my neighbors were doing their own thing and painting something other than what was instructed, I came unglued.  Later on in the evening, the instructor was making her rounds and stopped at my table; one of my friends pointed out that I'm one of her Type A pupils, and she urged me to have a glass of wine, not just the water I was sipping on.  In unison, my co-workers exclaimed, "But she's pregnant!!!"  :)

So we all worked and painted and perfected and touched up and (they) refilled thier wine glasses, and here is the finished product (see the ones who didn't follow the rules?):

And here's a close-up on mine:

It has replaced a monochromatic picture of John's and now hangs proudly in our bedroom. 

I love the decorating tip to have one color repeated throughout every room in your home, and my color is RED.  Until this painting was created and hung up, we didn't have any red in our bedroom (it's beige and brown and blue).  And this is so much happier!!

I had previously painted "Whimsical Tree" at C&C (look it up, it's bright!) and it didn't go with our decor at all, so it's sitting at my desk at work.  My next painting will be a challenge for me, because I've chosen what I want to do, but I actually--believe it or not--want to alter the colors so that it fits the color scheme of the nursery.

So if you're reading this and you want to go to C&C with me, let's do it!!  I can't wait to go again!!

Thinking about preganancy photos...

I'm contemplating the idea of pregnancy photos... I think I really want to do them, but I also want to do them right.  I've seen some that are really beautiful, and I've seen some that are hideous.  I won't call you out in the latter category, rather I'll send you here: http://pregnantchicken.squarespace.com/pregnant-chicken-blog/2010/12/10/awkward-pregnancy-photos.html.  Viewer discretion is advised!  LOL.

My sister took her daughter, who turned 4 just two weeks before becoming a big sister, and did adorable pictures together at Portrait Innovations.  I love the way hers turned out!  But I wanted to do outdoor shots (seeing that Spring is right around the corner and we're expecting a Summer baby.) 

So here are my questions:

• Where to take the pictures?
• WHEN to do them (how soon before delivery?)  I still want to look pretty, not just HUGE.
• How much is a reasonable amount to spend?  On the sitting fee?  On purchasing the photos?
• What if I don't like them??????

If anyone has recommendations, I'm all ears.  I have friends and  friends of friends that have their own photography business, but I just don't know THE person to go to.  HELP!!

Part 3: test results

I have gestational diabetes.

And I'm not happy about it.

Here's what this means:
I will meet with a dietician in the next week or so to determine what I should and should not be eating in order for my body to process sugars efficiently.  Then, she will send me home with a kit and a tracking sheet, as I will have to prick my finger and test my blood before every meal.  Every meal.  Awesome.  I used to look forward to meal time, now I have to inflict pain.

This is not my fault.

I asked the nurse if there was anything I could do to prevent this and she said no.  This is not the result of anything I did or could have done differently.  This is just my body reacting to how it processes sugar.  She said that sometimes the placenta can store more sugar than it needs to, which can lead to this diagnosis.

And, I think my doctor's office (though I very much love and trust them) is being overly cautious.  The first result was one point over.  They did four blood draws for the second test, and two were high.  This tells them that I have GD.  But wait--two were high... so then two were low!  Shouldn't it be a 'three strikes you're out' rule?  I don't get it.  And I think it's a lot of worry and stress on my body to go through all this, and that can't be good for the baby either!

But, I'll do what I'm told.  I'll endure the next 14 weeks (or however long he stays in there cookin') and will make the best of it.  I'm not going to jeopardize his health by NOT listening to the doctors, so here we go. 

Hold on tight baby, this road is gonna get bumpy.  Mommy might cry.  She already has a lot.  Daddy might cry (he doesn't do needles or blood).  He's being a trooper though and really supporting Momma.  In fact, he's making dinner right now and promised to pamper Mommy a little tonight... yes please!

So there you have it.  Let's talk about it.  Let's keep telling me that this isn't my fault and I couldn't have done anything differently.  It is what it is, and I'm going to be strong and get through this for my health and the health of my precious little peanut... who will be fine.  And perfect.  And wonderful.  And here before I know it.

Awaiting the results

The test on Friday went well... until the end.  When I got sick.  :(

We started at 8am and they drew my blood first, then had me drink the WHOLE bottle of the nasty stuff.  Oh man, those first few gulps aren't so bad, but then I held the bottle up and realized I had a LOT more to drink.   "I can do this," I said aloud... and chugged.

The timer started for the first hour, and I was doing great.  I went to the comfy room that they set John and I up in; I had a huge leather recliner to rest in, John sat in a chair next to me, studying for class on his laptop.  I read a little bit in my "What to Expect" book about gestational diabetes, and part of it helped, part of it was hard to read.  It confirmed that it's not the worst thing to happen, but then it said that having it could increase the mother's and baby's risk of developing diabetes later on in life.  That's exactly what I fear!  But, we don't know if I have it yet, so we'll see.  (I know, I'm probably being way too dramatic and everything will be fine.)

When the timer had a few minutes left, I went back to the nurse to get poked again, this time in the other arm.  Not so bad, set the clock for another hour. Rinse and repeat, right?  By the third blood draw (which hurt, cause that arm was already poked once and was very sensitive), my tummy was growling!!  I can't remember the last time I went this long without eating--even before I was pregnant!

After the third blood draw, John was thinking about heading into work.  But for some reason (partly because I was just enjoying some quiet relaxing time with my hubby), I asked him to stay.  And when the timer had 20 minutes left on it, we found out why he was still there.  Without much warning (just enough for me to pull my hair into a ponytail, actually) I got sick.  Well, not really sick, it was really just dry heaving because there was NOTHING in my stomach!!  But I grabbed the trash can and between heaves asked him to get the nurse.  He's amazing at taking care of me; he's really stepped up through all this.  Two very sweet nurses came in and put cold washcloths on my neck and head (ruining my hair thankyouverymuch!) and laid me back.  I didn't really even feel dizzy or nauseous, just weak.  Hello!? I haven't eaten since 8:00 the night before, and you're taking blood!  Are we done yet?

John helped walk me back to an exam room, where the nuse laid me back for the last draw.  It's amazing he came with, the man hates needles!!  I usually do great with needles, I just can't watch them go in, but it doesn't bother me too much.  But I think she used the same spot as the last one in that arm!  I used to give blood regularly and am actually bummed I can't right now, but for good reason.  :)  Anyway, she gave me apple juice and crackers afterwards which helped, but wasn't enough.  I stopped and got lunch on my way into work and pretty much inhaled it.

When I got in the car after saying goodbye to John, I cried.  He felt horrible learning this later; he asked, "what could I have done differently? I was there to support you so that it wasn't too terrible to endure, but you were crying?"  Well, yes, but the funny thing was, I didn't know why I was crying.  I was frustrated that I had gotten sick right at the end, but my body was just reacting.  I guess it was reacting too when my hormones took over and I couldn't help but cry.  I couldn't help it and I didn't know why!!

It made for a very exhausting day, and I anticipate tomorrow being the same.  When the doctor's office calls, it will either be good news or bad news.  I mean, I honestly feel that the diagnosis of gestational diabetes is bad news.  I know it's not the end of the world, I know some women who have had it and survived and have some amazing kiddos... it's just something I didn't anticipate dealing with, and I hope I don't have to.

So tomorrow is D-day and I'll update once we know the outcome.

Things Women Don't Talk About: Part 3

Note to reader: the title of the post is a means of therapy for me. I've found that unless you have sisters, a mom you can talk to about anything, or close girlfriends, women don't usually talk about all the gross details of being a woman. (Parts 1 & 2 are in draft mode; later topics to come as well.)


GESTATIONAL DIABETES

Last Friday I had my 24-week OB appointment and endured the hour-long drink-the-nasty-crap-and-wait-for-your-blood-to-be-drawn glucose test.  It wasn't as bad and I had expected it to be (let's be honest, as other people had warned me it would be).  I psyched myself out.  But the stuff didn't taste THAT bad, the waiting was fine--although the receptionist did say that I would have my appointment with the doctor during that hour, and she lied--and the blood draw was practically painless.  No problem.  When I finally met with the doctor, she said they'd have the results on Monday and that no news was good news.  Awesome.  I've got this.  I'm fine.

So today, when the doctor's office number showed up on my phone as a missed call, I was not-so-fine anymore.  Uh... you have news?  Shoot.

I called back nervously, figuring that they just wanted to settle my fears and tell me that the test results were normal.  Wrong again.  The nurse explained that they want my blood sugar level to be under 135 and that mine was at 136.  One stinking point!  One point!!  So as a result, I have to go back for a three hour glucose test where I'll drink twice as much of the nasty stuff, then wait three hours during which time they'll draw my blood FOUR times.  THOSE results will tell them if I have gestational diabetes.

Before today, I've never known anyone personally who had gestational diabetes (my co-worker, who heard me crying on the phone* came over to talk to me; she went through the same thing two years ago and did have gestational diabetes).  And before that, when I did hear about someone else having it, it always sounded so scary and serious.  Like bed rest.  So my first reaction was fear.  I don't know enough about it to understand it, so I'm scared.  I thought I had done something to harm my baby, but was told over and over that this isn't my fault.  I worried that this meant I gave my baby diabetes.  That's devastating to think about, and so not fair to him!!  Luckily, also not true.

I pray every day for a healthy baby, so hearing the term "gestational diabetes," I let my mind wander to dark unknown places and blamed myself for this (possible) diagnosis.  As it turns outs, the greatest worry for the doctors is that my baby would be born big.  My co-worker told me that her doctor warned her of a 9 pound baby, so they induced her a week early.  Her son was a beautiful, healthy, 6 lb. 15 oz. boy, perfectly healthy (and absolutely adorable!)  Okay, I feel a little better.  My sister told me of her friend that also had gestational diabetes, and her 7-month-old daughter is in the 6th percentile for growth now.

So I know what the implications can be if the expectant mother doesn't follow doctor's orders (strict diet, testing your blood, etc.) but it really isn't the end of the world.  I have psyched myself out again, but I know that my going back for the second round of testing doesn't necessarily mean I have it.  My first result was so low, that it might turn out just fine.  Then again, it might turn out that I have it, and the next 15 1/2 weeks will be challenging, but doable.  There are some women that deal with much more serious things during their pregnancy.  I will be fine.

My problem has always been that I like all the wrong foods (just ask my mother).  I also just really like food period, so I've struggled with weight most of my life.  In fact, I was worried that I would not handle the pregnancy weight gain well (10 pounds up so far, and about 15 or more to go--yikes!) but I know that there is a greater reason to gain weight, and bikini season (HA!) will just have to wait.  Luckily, summer will just about be over by the time I imagine being anywhere near (or wanting) to shove myself into a swimsuit.  Phew!!  This little guy is already worth every pound though.

So, I called and scheduled the dreaded 3 hour test for Friday morning this week; the nurse said I could do it anytime in the next two weeks, but I didn't want to dwell on it any longer than I had to.  I'm just going to go and get it over with.  I'll update with the results once I have them.

That being said, if you're a praying woman and you're reading this, please say a prayer for my health--both physical and mental--during this testing.  Like I said, I know it isn't probably as serious as I'm making it, but I am taking it seriously and hoping for the best.  God is in control.  I emailed my mom earlier to say that I know that God is the one making this baby, I just get to keep him warm while he grows and make sure that I'm doing right by him.  In the diet category, I think I can do better.

*My number one rule is that I don't cry at work. I broke my own rule today. Fail.

Our boy's got rhythm!

No wait, just hiccups. 

I was never so happy to have my little peanut moving around so wildly a week or so ago that he woke me up, and when I realized the consistent rhythm of his movement (similar to what I had felt the night before), I realized that our boy may not be the next best drummer, instead he had the cutest hiccups this Momma has ever experienced!!

My own hiccups are quite loud and violent (I annoy myself!) but my little guy's are... adorable.  :)

Next on the cute list was my dear husband when he felt his son move inside my belly for the first time.  I've been trying to have him feel it for weeks, but every time he comes over and puts his hand on my belly, the kid gets stage fright.  But yesterday, I woke up to my little acrobat doing quite the routine!  So, I quietly reached over, and without a word, put John's hand on my belly.  We had been lying in bed awake for awhile but hadn't spoken yet, so when I made this motion, he gave me the sweetest look of anticipation.  Suddenly, our baby kicked, John gasped and said aloud, "Well I felt that!" 

The smile on his face was sheer joy, and as he climbed over me, he wrapped his arms around my neck and told me that he fell in love with me all over again in this very instant.  He pulled back, kissed me, and followed it up with, "and I'm sure glad that's inside you and not me!"  THERE'S the man I love!!  Haha!

Pucker up, baby!

Last night we celebrated my niece Kenzie's 4th birthday by going out to dinner with her Mom, Grandpa and Grandma.  First of all, I can't believe she's already FOUR (we have all told her to stop growing, but she just giggles).  Second of all, she is too stinking cute and silly!!!!  She is an absolute kick to hang out with and says and does the silliest things. 

After dinner, some of the staff came over to sing her the traditional Red Robin Birthday Song:

One! Two! Three! Four!

Happy birthday, have a happy birthday!

Happy birthday, have a happy day!

Do we have a birthday here?

YES we have a birthday here!

Birthday where?

Birthday here!

Ohhhh-ohhhhh-ohhhh-ohh...

Happy birthday, have a happy birthday!

Happy birthday, have a happy day--HEY!!

Kenzie was delighted at the song, the clapping, the attention... but most of all for the ice cream sundae that accompanies the cheer! Who could blame her?  And she was just telling us that she still had room for ice cream in her tummy (and even pointed to where).  My, I do love that girl.

Well, we couldn't let her celebrate alone... and since she had stirred her sundae to "soup," we ordered a Mile Hi Mud Pie for the table.  Yes please!!  After passing it back and forth (though when it stopped at Amy and I, my Mom felt it necessary to comment about two pregnant women eating ice cream.  Yeah, yeah yeah...) most of the chocolate and caramel from the plate made it's way to Kenzie's hands.

Amy and I took her to the bathroom to wash up, and while we waited for Amy, Kenzie turned to me and gave my belly a big SMOOCH and said "cute baby!"  I've had some pretty great moments during this pregnancy, but that single moment is definitely in my Top 10 so far.  I'm not sure I've felt anything sweeter (though I've gotten some very sweet belly rubs) than my 4-year-old niece kissing my belly. 

That warmed this Momma's heart.

I felt LIFE!!!

I was sitting at on off-site retreat today for work and was completely distracted by the flutters in my belly.  No, not nerves... not gas... not even hunger pangs.  I felt the baby move!!!

But before this... I was sitting on the couch with John about two weeks ago and I put my hand to my belly in surprise and said, "Oh! I think I just felt the baby move!"  His tender reply: "I think you just want to feel the baby move."  Maybe so, but I'm pretty sure that was it.

Then about a week later, as we were cuddled up in bed about to fall asleep, I gasped again, "Holy cow, I totally just felt the baby move!!"  To which my sweet husband blurted, "Holy cow you just woke me up!"  LOL!  Not the reaction I was looking for... I said, "sorry, but I am really feeling it moving around." (P.S. I hate calling our child an "it," but we'll find out the gender soon enough...) John was startled awake by my exclamation, so I whipsered, "okay sorry, but I really did feel the baby move... go back to sleep."

Today, there was no mistaking the acrobatics going around in my womb.  I eagerly put my hand to my stomach, but I realized that it's going to be awhile before it can be felt from the outside.  I so want John to feel his baby moving around inside of me.  But instead I texted him, "I'm feeling the baby move a lot today!"  He is so excited about this baby and when he got home tonight, he was asking me all about what it was like to feel that.  I told him one time that it made me a little sad that as a man, he'll never get to feel that life inside of him... but he said he's okay with that.

I've been eager for this sensation.  It's similar to how I needed to see the little peanut on the first ultrasound in order to feel more of a connection to the new life inside of me.  Lately, I've felt like I needed to feel movement in order to increase our bond.  I am so blessed to be able to carry life, and I have this incredible joy in knowing that I get to care for this baby now and for the rest of its life.  What an amazing high this is!!

No comment

I learned today that my posts are not up to par with my fellow bloggers (well, my sisters anyway).  Apparently I don't invoke a lot of thought or feeling that is deserving of a comment or two.

Well, that's okay.

I was hesitant about blogging in the first place, then I never knew what to write so I didn't (and got slack for that too)... and the truth is, I'm not writing for anyone in particular.  Yes, it feels good to get a comment or two, but honestly, I don't expect them. 

I often have a lot of thoughts about things and think, "that would be good to write about..." But then I don't.  So when I do take the time to sit down and get it out, it isn't for you.  Read it or don't.  Comment or don't.

I had a band teacher once who told us that practice didn't make perfect, it made permanent.  To relate that to blogging, I feel that if I practice writing more, I will improve (and maybe my subject matter will be more interesting too,) but maybe I'll get into more of a rhythm of blogging more interesting topics.

Until then, this is what you get. 

Perspective

I thought today was going to be a really great day: I finally had a good night’s sleep, which hasn’t happened in about 3-4 months.

However, after rolling over in bed, I had the overwhelming feeling that I was going to be sick—and I was.

I recovered and mustered up the strength to shower, then immediately got sick again after stepping out, still dripping wet.

I regained my strength again and went downstairs for a shake, discouraged and emotional, but pushed through.

This morning dragged on and it seemed to take me forever to get ready. I finally left the house after 9:00am.

On the way in to work, I came across a very bad accident involving a small car and BIG truck and lots of emergency vehicles.

We were detoured, which made my commute longer, adding to my stress and frustration.

Then, I pulled up behind a cop car with someone in the back seat (you don’t see that often), and my mood changed…

Perspective.

The person in the back of that cop car is having a worse day than I. And, I wasn’t in that bad accident I saw before.

After pulling onto Colfax, I saw a fire truck pulled into a bank and paramedics walking inside. I’m not the person in the bank.

Perspective.

I pulled into the parking garage to go to work. I work at a hospital. I’m not here because I’m being treated.

Perspective.

I am blessed. I am so very blessed with an amazing husband, a baby on the way, a warm house and food and clothing.

I am blessed with the support of my family and many friends, and I have a good job to be proud of.

So what if I got sick this morning and don’t feel well today? I’m pregnant! And that is such a huge blessing!!!

Perspective.

Here kitty, kitty!

I cleaned the house today.  I vacuumed every carpeted room, all the wood floor and even swiffered it.  This activity usually keeps the pets busy too running from room to room--away from the vacuum.  It can actually be quite funny.

Wrigley will usually gets curious enough to come check out what it is I'm doing until the evil roaring sucking machine comes towards him--and then he bolts!  Gus, on the other hand, is quickly scared out of whatever room I make my way into.  Sadly for him, I usually end up following him into the next room (not on purpose, I swear!)  However, we have used this trick as a way to get him out of a room that we don't want him in.  Mean, I know.  But he's a cat... he's got like five lives left, at least.

So after vacuuming the main floor today, I headed upstairs.  I tackled the stairs on my way up, cleaned our bedroom, the hallway, and the guest room.  Then it dawned on me--where's the cat?  The last time I had seen him was when he ran scared out of the family room (one of the first rooms I vacuumed).  He wasn't under either of the beds, behind the armoire, in the closet... hmm...

I hollered down to John in his office, "hey, have you seen the cat?"  "The cat?" he echoed back... and we both started searching.  I really don't know how long we looked, but we searched every room, high and low, multiple times each before we stopped and panicked.  Basement? No. Under the couches? Lifted and looked.  No.  Outside?  Wait, did he get outside??? 

Gus is not an outdoor cat.  He got out ONCE, about 5 years ago.  It was up in Arvada (the old house) when John still lived with Walter.  Our stealth little feline tore through the screen of a window that Walter had open during the day (we do not blame Walter for this AT ALL).  Gus was gone for a couple of days before he was discovered in the back yard.  He hadn't run away!!  Walter opened the back door and heard a small mewing from under the pine tree in the corner of the yard.  Poor Gussers never left the yard, and probably hadn't eaten the whole time he was out there.  Needless to say, he was happy to come back inside for some food and TLC--which he got!

However, the outside in this neighborhood is MUCH different than the outside at the last house.  Poor kitty would make friends with bunnies here and probably meet his fate at the jaws of a coyote.  We were devatstated to think that he might be out there on his own.  Yet we still couldn't figure out how he would have gotten out.  We opened a few windows earlier to get some fresh air, but all screens are in tact.  However, we put on our coats and took a walk around the block anyway.  I took a can of wet cat food with me, as he usually comes running when he hears the can tapped.  Hey, it was worth a shot. 

After our walk, and a few tears on my part, we headed back inside with heavy hearts.  I kicked off my shoes, put the canned food on the counter and was ready to collapse on the sofa--I was pooped!  But when I turned the corner into the family room, I was greeted by the cutest little black and white face, and tiny little mew.  My Gusser cat!!!!!!!!  I didn't know where he was hiding, but I chased him to the upstairs calling after him and crying.  I've never been so happy to see my cat!!  I really thought he was gone.  I pulled him out from under the bed and forced a little snuggling on him.  I think he was confused, afterall, he didn't know he was lost!  Although I still didn't know where he had been hiding the whole time.  I guess it just took us leaving the house for him to come out.

John went into the middle bedroom (the soon-to-be nursery) and found the closet open a few inches, just enough for a sneaky kitty to come out.  But wait--I looked in that closet four times!  Well, what we've always claimed was proven right again today: we have a houdini cat.  I swear he can hide anywhere.  When I said we looked high and low, we did.  I would not put it past him to get on top of the fridge, or cabinets... or who knows where. 

But he's safe and found.  He never left the house, and I will do everything I can to make sure he never does.  I would have been so very sad to lose him today.  And he's getting plenty of love (and already devoured the wet food).  I love my kitty.

Things Women Don't Talk About: Part 2

Note to reader: the title of the post is a means of therapy for me. I've found that unless you have sisters, a mom you can talk to about anything, or close girlfriends, women don't usually talk about all the gross details of being a woman (and this particular post is... gross). Later topics to come.


CONSTIPATION (specifically during pregnancy)
 
Look, it happens, but you don't typically acknowledge it--anytime.  And while I heard (from one particular sister) that constipation can occur when you're pregnant, I was not prepared for the pain and discomfort.  Let's face it, there is a certain level of discomfort (and some intermittent pain) that comes with pregnancy anyway.  Don't get me wrong, this is a beautiful experience, but wowza--my body is a-changin', and not without a fight!!  Ligaments stretching??  Owwwww!!!!
 
So back to my backed up bowels... oh dear.  I felt bloated from about the day after I got a positive on the HPT.  But add some minor (ha! MAJOR) blockage to the digestive tract, and any bloating I felt up until this day was a tease.  I had morning sickness like many of my pregnant friends have (not all, you lucky ducks!)  but I honestly think that my sickness lasted as long as it did because I was so constipated!
 
Now, if you must know--though you probably don't care--I've been constipated before.  When I was 12, I got sick frequently, missed school, missed the Phantom of the Opera (that's another post for another day) and went through several tests with my pediatrician before being deemed "severely constipated." Awesome.  She said my bowels were rock hard, and since the food had no where to go, it explained why I vomited so often.  And when the laxatives, diet and enema didn't work, we tried more laxatives.  My mother cried the day I pooped.  Then every day for the next six years or so (I wish I were exaggerating), she asked me if I had pooped.  Sheesh!
 
So this particular "condition" is not so new to me, but being pregnant, I couldn't use all of the previous methods of relief, shall we say, that I had used before.  If you need a quick fix, let me know... there's a magical drink out there that you can down quickly that will prove fast results.  But being pregnant, it's not safe to use.  Stool softeners are okay though, and I took many.  And a suppository.  Too much information?  Sorry!  But I think it's good to be honest about this, and maybe you have no one else to share with.  This is a safe place.
 
Once I found the relief I needed, I was a much happier Prego.  The bloating subsided, I slept better, and I got sick less often.  I really have to pay attention to my bowel movements though still, as I am prone to this condition. 
 
However, I also learned at one of my latest OB appointments that the anti-nausea medication I was on can cause constipation.  Really?!  If I had known that, I wouldn't have taken it!!  I know my body, and I would not do that to myself.
 
So there you have it.  Constipation.  Let's discuss it.  Let's commiserate together.
 
And... have you pooped today?