Tag Archives: Pregnancy

Yes, I’m ready….

Posted on January 2, 2012 | 1 comment

My love for KC of KC and the Sunshine Band does not extend only to his hits. This morning I awoke (to a pile of sharp Emily elbows and Fisher breath and a cat howling at me, but that is neither here nor there) with a song in my head.

An often overlooked KC & Teri De Sario duet, “Yes, I’m Ready.”

I don’t even know how to love you
Just the way you want me to
But I’m ready (Ready) to learn (To learn)
Yes, I’m ready (Ready) to learn (To learn)

To fall in love, to fall in love
To fall in love with you

And I am. What changed between yesterday and today? I am ready to catch the leaks.

The first time you become a mother you are encouraged to pamper yourself and focus on your pregnancy and your post-partum period. Celebrate this new phase of your life. This time I felt like there was no need to do that. I am a mother already. And I know better this time than to think I need to buy every baby item under the sun, so the pile of Baby Stuff is much smaller. I thought that was what was making me feel like I wasn’t ready. The unknown gender of Baby D makes shopping for newborn clothes virtually impossible. We own everything yellow that has a duck and a giraffe on it already. And really, that’s more than enough.

And yesterday I realized what I was missing. I needed to be prepared to catch the leaks.

Yesterday afternoon I assembled an army of old friends. A package of pre-fold diapers to catch the slime that oozes from a baby constantly. A package of flannel receiving blankets to put down in my bed. I washed and dried and brought back to life my Lily Padz and a dozen sets of reusable cloth nursing pads. I made a pile of underwear that I know will end up covered in blood. All alone in the Target I stared at nursing bras designed for sleeping, camisoles with snaps and pajamas that button up the front. I stood in the feminine care aisle longer than anyone in my family would have tolerated until I could remember whether I liked wings or not. Until I recalled that an absorbent core is really just like having a plastic sack of jelly in your underwear and that I hated those. I stashed those little packs of Kleenex in every purse I own, next to my bed, near the couch. Because I know how quickly I will cry over the next few weeks as I fall head over heels in love again. While leaking from everywhere but my ears.

And now I’m ready. To fall in love. And to catch the leaks.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged 38 weeks, Birth, KC & The Sunshine Band, Pregnancy

I feel stupid… and contagious…

Posted on December 29, 2011 | 7 comments

Bi-polar. Mood swings. Mentally unstable. Melodramatic. Unfuckingbelievably bitchy. These are all ways to describe being 37 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I am afraid.

It was last night that I said I was smiling, right? That was me. I am almost certain of it.

Because that girl that slid her back down the wall, crumbling in to hysterical tears because her husband mentioned there was shitty water pressure and almost no hot water, that girl that shrieked that she won’t be treated like a second class citizen who isn’t even allowed to take a god damn nine minute long shower… she wasn’t smiling. And maybe she had a right to have her feelings hurt a little, maybe he didn’t use the nicest tone of voice, but he had just woken up, too. And she is not the only one with a lot on her plate right now.

The smiling girl was watching her from the outside. Powerless to stop her hysteria.

Pregnant with Emily I had the full blown Crazies from time to time, but my life was so upside down then that it felt justified.

The last time I can remember feeling just like this I was about 15.

This feeling, like no one has ever been this tired or this scared or this overwhelmed or this unsure what could possibly make her feel ready to face the next chapter…. it can only be likened to being a teenager. The belief that NO ONE has ever had it THIS BAD. That NO ONE understands you. Somehow in the moment I am sure that other women have had babies without ever feeling like THIS. Just as I was sure that every adult I knew as a teenager managed to become one without EVER having to be 15 the way I had to experience it.

Only as a teenager I was totally self-absorbed. This time it is like there are two selves. The Crazy Pregnant Self and the Mom/Wife/Kelly Self that desperately wants to shake the Crazy Pregnant Self and say “Stop yelling at this man and let him help you!”

And I can hear it echo in my head now. “help you, help you, help you….” I don’t know how to do that. And yet in the darkest hours of the night I slide my head on to MQD’s shoulder and say “Promise me you will take care of me.” And always, always he says “I will.” And for just a few minutes I really sleep.

When Em was tiny I poured my heart in to her. And I stopped taking care of me. This time I hope I can do a better job of looking after me, too. And not in that Cosmo/Redbook/Glamour magazine “Light a candle and take a long bubble bath, pamper yourself with luxurious bath products. Get a manicure.” way. Just in a simple take my book with me to the bathroom and sit on the toilet with the door closed and the seat down and my pajama pants still up and read my book and drink a cup of coffee and ignore the “Do you know where my book bag is?” from the other side of the door. And trust that MQD will find it. And feed Em breakfast. And brush her hair. And the baby won’t develop a flat head if it sits in a swing for nine minutes.

Because that nine minutes can make the difference between sliding my back down the wall and crumbling to the floor come mid-afternoon or not.

For about eight months I have worried off and on that I won’t know how to love Emily and a baby and MQD. That I will not have the strength or the stamina to love enough, that somehow I will let them down. And now in the final hour instead of finding an answer to that question I am just adding another person to take care of in to the mix. Me.

I have a knack for making simple things complicated. All of this “Love yourself, let people help you, take care of you…” I think it is simpler than that. Sometime I think I just need to grow the fuck up. Because I am not actually 15. Even if it feels like that sometimes.

Pouting. Not actually 15.

7 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged 37 weeks, Bad Mood, mood swings, Pouting, Pregnancy

Flapjacks & Baby Makin’

Posted on December 22, 2011 | 2 comments

There is a song by the Beautiful South, 36D, about a gal that doesn’t seem to see that she has more to offer than her 36Ds. The chorus of which has run through my mind all day. “36D, so what? Is that all you’ve got?” But not as it relates to my own 36Ds.

I had an appointment at the birthing center this morning. The first thing they ask you when they come in is if you know how far along you are. “36 weeks” I said mindlessly. And immediately to the tune of 36D it started. But instead of “36D, so what! D, so what!” it has been “36 Weeks! Oh fuck! Weeks! Oh Fuck! Is that all that I’ve got???!!!”

For any of you unfamiliar with basic math or the duration of the average pregnancy let me spell that out for you. 40 weeks, subtract 36 and you have 4. Three and a half if I am actually counting, which evidently I was not.

I find a belt can be a slimming accessory when added to an outfit.

I must have made an audible gasp as she wrote it down… “36 weeks and four days, so you’re due in just a little over three weeks” because the next thing she asked me is if another of the midwives had told me about her theory regarding second labors and pancakes. The Pancake Theory (as I have dubbed it) has set me completely at ease.

Emily’s labor and delivery was not as I had planned. Like the first batch of pancakes. The pan is either too hot or too cold, the batter hasn’t had a chance to sit. The first batch of pancakes tastes fine, sure, but they tend to be a hot mess.

But that second batch? Perfect every time. As soon as you flip them you think, whoa, I wish had tons more batter, I could make pancakes all day, I am the master of making pancakes. Rumor has it the second baby is like the second batch of pancakes more often than not.

“They” say that if you dream about making pancakes it means you are satisfied with your current situation and that you take pleasure in the simple things.

I daresay I will dream about pancakes tonight.

This second batch of pancakes has a tough act to follow. For "not perfect" - she turned out pretty tasty to me.

2 Comments

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged 36 weeks, Beautiful South, Pancakes, Pregnancy

When I was a little kid…

Posted on December 16, 2011 | 1 comment

Em pulled this ornament from the box and said “Ohhh, this is the one I made when I was a little kid…” It slayed me. It’s not difficult to reduce me to tears (as I have mentioned at least 800 times of late) but this was a different kind.

The nose tingling, eyes watering “I think I am doing this right” tears. I have heard more than a few parents lament that if you”re “doing it right” they need you less and less.

Our "little girl" made this ornament just last year in pre-school.

In the past few months I have watched as my lap grows smaller and smaller and my “little girl” is literally pushed right out of “the nest.” And it pains me.

I have come to terms with the fact that Love is infinite. That I will find the Love that two children require. But I can not deny that both Time and my lap are finite. I struggle to envision how I will share them with two children. Already I feel I do a less than adequate job sharing my Time with only one child between working and mothering. How does one expect to blend another child in to the family without taking from the first?

And then I look at the face in the ornament. She looks so different than the face I see today.

I see her flounce down the stairs in an “outfit” she has assembled. Skinny jeans and a tshirt, her boots and a high ponytail. I eavesdrop as she and her buddy discuss the best way to pass a baby to someone else without “flopping the head.” I watch her practice being a Big Sister to her baby doll. (A baby doll that has recently acquired a middle name. A middle name that we have incidentally settled on for Baby D.) Her teeny little self drags the empty trash can up the driveway without being reminded. Stopping only to have me unlock the gate so she can put it away. She empties the dishwasher while I make dinner, reminding me to check her back pack for a note from her teacher. Last night after her shower her wet towel was hanging from the hook on the bathroom door. Her dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

Maybe she isn’t my “little kid.”

Well, then. Merry Christmas to you, Baby Girl. In spite of this new baby and your big grown up self you will always, always be my Baby Girl.

She hopped in to the front with me while we waited for MQD at the barber the other day. "Look at you in the front seat, Miss Thang!" She grabbed my glasses and began to pose. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Christmas, Decorating, Emily, Ornaments, Pregnancy

Mommy’s Capricorn

Posted on December 12, 2011 | 1 comment

So, I was having a little bit of a mini meltdown. But it’s over. The maternal hormones have levelled out and I am ready to have a baby.

And this is how I know.

Every day I drive past a few farms. My favorite of all of them has quite a few goats. I am a pretty big fan of goats. They are cheerful little creatures. They make me smile.

It’s not lost on me that I am gestating a Capricorn.

I slow down and I smile at the goats a couple of times a week. And today I thought maybe I’d even stop and pay them a visit. I pulled in the driveway and made Em jump in the car. I told her it was a surprise. I guess she knows me better than I imagined. Right away she asked me “Is it a cute animal, Mom?”

“Yep. Two of them.”

We pulled up next to the fence and when I rolled down the window at least a dozen goats started running towards us. And all of a sudden…. I felt the “Oh my god, they’s so cute….” totally overwhelm me. Because it wasn’t just a bunch of cute goats. It was goats AND FUCKING PONIES!!!

Guys. I’m gonna make it. I only have to be pregnant for five more weeks. And there are goats and shetland ponies less than half a mile from my house. And they are crazy cute. It is hard to be filled with rage and anxiety when this little buddy will come right up to the fence and smile at you. With the goats serenading you in the background.

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Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged capricorn, goats, Pregnancy, Pregnant, shetland pony

Heads or Tails?

Posted on December 12, 2011 | 8 comments

Moody doesn’t really begin to describe it. There’s a 50/50 chance I will begin to cry every time MQD puts his arms around me lately.

And since my brother is not here to say “No shit” I will chime in on his behalf. I am a crier. I have always been a crier. But the tears of late are not of the “Jeez, I have so many feelings” Hallmark commercial tears ilk that have plagued me all my life.

They are the ugly, make your face all splotchy tears that came from a place of anger and fear and pain.

Sometimes it is hard to reconcile the two people that live inside of me. Three, if you count Baby D. Happy Go Lucky Kelly wishes Doom & Gloom Kelly would take a hike. It might leave more room for Baby D, and maybe s/he’d quit poking me in the ribs. Not likely but a girl can dream.

This hasn’t been the most glamorous of pregnancies. I never realized how fortunate I was before to feel so great so much of the time. I have complained about my heartburn. But heartburn is tolerable. I was completely ill-prepared for the day in and day out aches and pains. The can’t get out of bed flu like feeling of all over tired. The pain in my hips.

I am six years older. I sit all day now, instead of working two jobs on my feet as I did with Emily. Every pregnancy is different… blah blah blah…

I went in to labor last time strong. I was walking daily, miles, not steps to and from the door to the car. I was positive that an unmedicated birth was in my future. I was ready. And beyond hopeful. I was sure. And I failed.

This time I am afraid. I know how many things can happen, how many things can be outside of your control. My body feels weak. And tired. And yet I am hoping to make it happen this time. Because I don’t see myself doing it again. I see our family of four as complete. And I don’t want to do this to my body again.

So, it feels like my last chance to make it right. For me. This body I have struggled with loving, I want to see it do what it was designed to do. I want to feel it this time. I want to be in awe, just once, of this body.

But it isn’t the pregnancy and the labor experience that has me inside out.

Last night I finally found the words.

It’s the baby.

I am ready for this baby to make me feel good.

I know it will. I know when I can put my chin against my chest, my lips resting on a tiny little head, arms and legs all squished against my chest, my hand curled around a tiny little baby butt. Breathe in baby smell and exhale every fear I have carried in my heart for the last year, I know I will feel nothing but love.

But now. Now I don’t feel love all the time. Sometimes when I reach out for MQD I see this man I have been married to for less than year, I see this life I had been waiting for for so long and I can barely reach my arms around his waist. My face no longer fits in his neck as it did the day we were were married, his arms no longer create a space for me where I feel safe.

All I can say through tears is that I just wish it would all go away.

I don’t want to be tired. I don’t want to be cranky and short tempered. I don’t want to spend the next six months in a newborn haze. I want to rake my leaves. And stay up late and wrap Christmas presents. I want to drink Grasshoppers and write Christmas cards with this man I fell in love with. And be a newlywed. I want to roll down the hill with my kid in to the leaves we just raked.

But I can’t. Because I am tired. And dairy makes my heartburn worse. And I am too busy being weepy and peeing every five seconds and I can’t even get up off the couch anyway. Walking to the mailbox makes my hip hurt some days so there is no hill rolling on my agenda. Because I am fucking pregnant.

And “fucking pregnant” doesn’t make me feel full of magic and love. It makes me feel full of a lack of gratitude for this beautiful thing that is happening to us.

And even though I am nine feet wide, he finds a way. To wrap me in his arms and rock me back and forth and say “It’s gonna be ok. You don’t have to do everything yourself. I love you.” And he smiles. And as quickly as Doom & Gloom Kelly arrived she is gone again. And “Get a Load of THIS, shit, we’re gonna have a BABY, y’all!” takes her place.

And I am smiling, and hopeful. And excited. So maybe the smile is forced. But I am hopeful. And excited.

[Note: Dear Baby D, If you are reading this you are no longer a baby. You are probably a tech savvy pre-teen. And in case you are reading and thinking “Holy shit, you didn’t want me!! You said it!! That you wished “it” would go away!!” I have two things to say. Watch your mouth, we don’t swear in our house (ha!) and of course I wanted you. Some days I wanted you so badly I was ready to reach down my own throat and yank you out by the feet. Because I wanted you. Out here. With the rest of us, please. So I could have me back, too. Because contrary to what you might think the world does not revolve around you. Now, go clean your room. Love you, Mom. ]

8 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Family, Nonsense, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged 36 weeks, Fear, Labor, Pregnancy

Movie Night

Posted on November 18, 2011 | 1 comment

On Tuesday evening I walked around my house like a hormonal pregnant woman, bitching that it was hot. In my defense it was 78 degrees in the living room at 5 pm. The afternoon had been in the upper seventies, maybe even low eighties. We opened windows and turned on ceiling fans and I couldn’t get cool enough. We had chicken and a big salad for dinner.

A strange day for a November in North Carolina but I embraced it. In fact, I was moved to paint my toenails. Barefoot and pregnant in the Cackalackey. November, be damned. At nearly 32 weeks pregnant it was a thrill to reach my own feet. Even if I had to bring my feet and toes up in to my lap, contorting myself on the couch seems preferable to just leaning down lately. However it had to be done, it happened. I painted my own toenails. And Thanksgiving and Christmas and The Baby seemed a million miles away.

Last night I snuggled up on the couch. Under two blankets and I kicked the fireplace on. Em and I looked at recipes for Thanksgiving and planned out potential holiday desserts. (She continues to campaign heavily for donuts, silly kid.) I sent Em up to pick out her books for bedtime. Among the books she chose was last year’s copy of “T’was the Night Before Christmas.” This morning the sheets felt cool when I slid my legs over the side of the bed. There was frost on the ground and the last of the leaves have fallen from the crepe myrtle. Warm socks and corduroys and turtleneck sweaters. Tonight I will make meatballs for dinner and we will snuggle up as a family and watch a movie.

Our first Friday night in the new house, just the three of us. Eight more. We have eight more Fridays between today and our due date. Eight Fridays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and a few birthdays in there somewhere, too. Two Charlie Brown specials and Jimmy Stewart’s “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Order plantation shutters and get them installed. Bring down all the Christmas decorations, put them all up and then take them all down and put them back in the attic. There’s a lot to do in the next eight weeks. Plenty of time. But only eight Fridays.

Eight nights with my feet in MQD’s lap , my skinny-mini little girl curled up next to me. A movie we have seen a thousand times playing on the television. I don’t get to hold her in my arms often anymore. I’d watch anything just to hold her, smell the back of her neck, feel her freezing little feet up against me for 90 minutes.

Nine Fridays from now my arms will likely be full. Of a brand new baby. And as prone to the drama as I am even I must remember that Em won’t be headed off to college. She will be glued to my side, quite likely. Falling in love with her baby brother or sister just like me and MQD.

The eighth Friday is January 13th. Seven years earlier on January 13th I found out I was pregnant with Emily and my whole world changed. I was going to be a mom. And now I will be a mom all over again.

They say no two kids have the same mother. I hope I like being this kid’s mom as much as I have loved being Em’s so far. Emily’s mom is strong and unafraid of change, in spite of all of her insecurities and her best efforts to get in her own way. Emily’s mom became MQD’s wife.

This kid better turn me in to Wonder Woman to top all that.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Emily, Pregnancy, Weather

Those Lines

Posted on November 15, 2011 | 1 comment

I should see it coming by now. The way she draws me in and holds me close. And then drops me on my ass. Last night Em told me she has been having trouble sleeping. That she wakes from a bad dream and then she has trouble keeping her mind on her pleasant brain movies. We talked for a while.

I was sitting on the floor next to her bed. Leaning over to kiss her has become an Olympic event, as has climbing out of her bed over top of her, so it is easier if bedtime rituals take place with me on the floor, next to her bed, our faces right next to one another. Nose to nose almost.

I said “I like to think about what Baby D is going to look like when I can’t sleep. Sometimes I think we will have a baby that looks just like dad. And sometimes I think the baby will look just like you.”

She smiled. “I hope the baby looks like you, Mommy.” And she smiled some more. The one that melts me. This is when I should have kissed her good night and walked away.

“Well, if the baby looks like me, honey, he or she will look like you, since we look a lot alike.”

“But not exactly alike,” she says. “I don’t have those lines.”

Perfect comedic timing. She pauses. “What? What?? Well, I don’t.”

Jerk.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Emily, Parenting, Pregnancy

The American Dream

Posted on November 11, 2011 | 18 comments

The American Dream means something different to everyone, I suppose. The Happiness I pursue looks different through my eyes than it might through yours. You might not even see the Happiness I so fervently strive for as worthwhile. But there is one thing on which we can all likely agree.

I daresay there are very few Americans that will not thank a veteran or an active duty military person today. No matter how close or how far you may be from achieving your Happiness we all have our country’s service men and women to thank for the opportunity to dream Big.

And this is when I started to cry…. I was planning on writing about how this is the first Veteran’s Day since my grandfather has passed away. And the first Veteran’s Day that my brother has been out on a submarine, leaving his pregnant wife behind. And how my Happiness seems so attainable recently and how grateful I am for the Life & Liberty portions as well. But I can’t make any sense at all now… because he called!!! (My little brother, not my grandfather. I am pregnant and emotional but I’ve not lost my mind. )

I am, without contest, the sappiest person in the family. And a phone call from my little brother is the best way I can think of to celebrate Veteran’s Day. I could be no more proud of him. His boat departed in May, shortly after finding out he and his wife are expecting their first baby just after Christmas. I thought that the day he was married I’d stop thinking of him as my “little brother.” And surely the day he called to say that he and Lauren were pregnant I’d accept that he was growing up.

But it wasn’t until I got his call this morning. On an international number. From his desk. On a submarine with the United States Navy. He said that the beers were cheaper in port than a glass of water. But he was most grateful for a few good night’s of sleep. We talked a little about my pregnancy. And a little about Lauren’s. And we laughed as I pointed out that the four or five hours of sleep he gets now on the boat every 18 hours is more sleep than he’ll get when his daughter is born in the week following his homecoming.

A wee bit tipsy, circa 1998

He sounded like a man. That little brother of mine. He sounded different. Not older or wiser, just different. He has been my brother for 31 years. He has been in the Navy for over a decade. And married for more than six years. In about eight weeks he will be a dad. He didn’t sound different to me until today. I’m thinking it is the impending dad-ness.

Happy Veteran’s Day, Scott. Come home soon. There are two ladies in Hawaii that can’t wait to see you. One of them will do everything she can to keep the other one snug as a bug and unborn until you get home. But don’t push your luck.

Scott, on his wedding day. I was pregnant with Emily. It was a lifetime ago. But I will never forget his smile that day. I've never seen him so happy before or since.

18 Comments

Posted in Family, Pregnancy

Tagged Navy, Pregnancy, Scott, Veteran's Day

The sky’s on fire

Posted on November 10, 2011 | 2 comments

There is a reason James Taylor goes to Carolina in his mind. I was pulling out of the neighborhood this morning heading to work and I realized I really need to stop and smell the … leaves?

I had forgotten this part of pregnant. The part where when a person says “Ohh, only ten more weeks, so, are you excited?” and you want to claw out their eyes. And just once, just one time you want to answer honestly.

“No. No, I am not excited at all. I think this was the worst idea I have ever had. Ever. I do not want to be pregnant ANY more and I really, really don’t want a baby. I am tired now. Today. And I slept for ten hours last night. So, no. Excited doesn’t really describe how I feel right now.”

At least this time around I am not at the hospital. Pregnant. Working at the hospital, I’d walk in to at least a dozen rooms every morning and be asked that question. “So, are you excited?” Typically two of those rooms would have a glowing new mom and her infant. And like Morales in A Chorus Line I’d dig right down to the bottom of my soul, and I’d feel nothing.

This time I know. I know I will fall in love. And I know that this is normal. But I also know that I won’t be overtired for just a few more months. I probably won’t be sleeping through the night again for many months. I will be nursing a baby for years if all goes as I hope. I will be sharing my body with this baby until I am closer to 40 than not. And it will be worth it. But the lack of experience the last time I felt this way, it afforded me a certain comfort. I thought “a baby” would be something that I had. Something that made me a mother. But I had no idea that it would be who I was. And even if I had known … I didn’t have an identity that fit me, anyway. My marriage was struggling. Our restaurant was struggling. I felt like a square peg in a round hole most of the time. I’d have welcomed a new identity.

But now. I have barely gotten used to being MQD’s wife. I still snicker and smile when I say “Oh, that is my husband’s phone number” to the woman on the other end of the phone line at a utility company. I haven’t cross stitched a damn thing for this baby. Because I have been unpacking boxes and raking leaves and making a home. And loving every minute of it. I have a kindergartner. This spectacular little girl that I enjoy shooting the shit with. That thinks Ladies’ Night is the best damn thing on Earth because she adores me. And all of these days… moments really, when I am just a wife. Just a new homeowner. Just Em’s mom. They are numbered.

Soon, I will be a New Mom again. And “am I so excited?” Well, no. Sometimes I am angry. Sometimes I am sad. Because I fought hard to get to right here. And I’ve just barely had a chance to slow down and enjoy it.

So, that’s what I am gonna try and do. Mr James Taylor and I will be in Carolina in our minds if you need us. Just looking around. Just soaking it up. Just trying to be. Because before I know it, I will be a new mom. And MQD’s wife. And Harriet Homeowner. And the host of Ladies’ Night.