14 Weeks Pregnant and The Holidays

Well week 14, of pregnancy number three, will likely always be associated in my mind with the day after Christmas. A day where I definitively experienced the worst I’ve ever felt pregnant.

But before I go there, lets talk about the rest of the week.
I was feeling perhaps a bit more mental clarity and a bit more physical energy. But still likely running at 50% (maybe less) of my normal non-pregnant self.

Wednesday Blake and I were leading our Church’s Christmas Eve Service’s music. Leading music at this church is a new thing for me. And quite honestly I don’t recall ever being at any Christmas Eve Service. As a kid we went to church on Christmas, so our church didn’t do the “Eve” stuff. So I didn’t really know what people’s expectations were. I just picked a bunch of Christmas songs. But apparently there is a very large expectation to sing “Silent Night”, which I did not select -- but I was not informed of that expectation until about 30 mins before the Service, by someone signing with us that it’s always in a Christmas Eve Service. Oops. Well, sorry church if you were disappointed. It was an honest mistake.

Anyway, Blake and I spent pretty much all of Wednesday going over music and getting it smoothed out before it was time for practice at church. It was a music heavy service, so we really needed the time to get it all ready. My girls were pretty patient with us while we worked, but they did get kinda antsy through all that waiting. (A decent chunk of the time I was singing over a child “playing piano for us” (banging away) while Blake played guitar.)
So I was really happy that my energy level accommodated a FULL day of singing, including the pressure of Christmas Eve (getting us all dressed and feed on time too.)
      I don’t actually know how well the whole thing went over for the congregation. But I was personally pleased as punch with what we pulled off for where we all are as people. And I left feeling good that: despite nausea, zero energy, and having a four and two year old I was able to plan a Christmas Eve Service (whether or not I did it right) and even happier that my voice held out (I realized before the Service started that I had already taxed the poor thing to death by practicing all day) AND that I didn’t even come close to choking on my too-much-pregnancy-salvia while breathing in, nor did I puke on any one.
     I’m not sure how I’m coming across as I write this (I’m not going for sarcasm) --- I was very, very happy with the outcome of the night since I knew what it could have been. I thought we did great. Hope our church got to be a bit blessed in it.

Then when we got home and got the girls to bed, I remembered how I needed to finish sewing a couple more christmas presents. (The trials of trying to sew stuff while nauseous, kinda put it on the back burner.) Blake was awesome and ran around town looking for ice cream to cure my nausea ( he had to go all over since everywhere was closed.) And I sewed up some fleece mermaid tail blankets.

 We watched an old (non Christmas) movie and went to bed.

Christmas morning the girls slept in! (Score!) So when we got up, we opened our gifts slowly over the entire morning. It was cute, the girls didn’t have tons of presents, but it took forever to open them because every time they opened something they stopped to play with it for a long time before they were ready to open anything else.

Blake baked a ham and home made french fries. (Traditional, no?) That’s what the girls asked for and that’s what we went with. :) I had kinda wanted to stress over the meal about a week before Christmas, but when I gave in to “Who cares, I’m sick, the girls are picky and we have food restrictions, lets just do what works.” And then I just enjoyed our random personalized Christmas.

So that brings us to the day after Christmas.
The day itself was fine. We spent it with Family in Galesburg (a 2.5 hour drive away from us.) I had a chance to get out to Target by myself (which actually retail-therapied-away-ed my nonstop headache of the day) (That’s my new pregnancy symptom -- relentless headaches) and I bought two maternity shirts with some Christmas money.

If you are curious what I bought, I got this fitted, ruched tank in black -- which works for everything

and it feels great. 

Also

This denim tunic. 

Below.

I kinda think I love this shirt, but I also kinda worry it’s potentially a flashback to maybe 80s or 90s maternity wear?  What do you think? I hope it’s a good shirt, cause I kinda wanna wear it post baby too. (P.S. I know the leggings aren’t ideal -- I haven’t been seen by anyone over the age of 4 the majority of the day, so I didn’t care.)

Anyway, for our trip to Galesburg, we pretty much just spend the day hanging out enjoying the company. It was a good day.

But the infamous part was the drive home. I had hoped to leave earlier in the day to avoid being in the car at night -- my crappy time of day, when I get “morning” sickness. (Again, such a great name for this symptom.) But we just didn’t end up getting out until 7:00pm. I was already feeling pretty ify. And knew it was gonna be rough.
I noticed while driving that if I bobbed my head up and down, like a horse walking, that it helped me deal with the motion of the van moving. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, but the motion added to the morning sickness was not ideal -- so “ridiculous" was fine by me. I did that for a good hour and a half. My neck was getting tired and I was getting sleepy. So eventually I kinda quit with my therapy. My stomach was hurting worse and worse. Eventually we needed to stop for gas. At this point I knew I’d be puking at some point, but the question was when. I went inside the gas station but the idea of kneeling next to a gas station toilet made my body tighten up worse and refuse. So of course I felt really awful now. I think I freaked out a gas station worker lady who saw me in the bathroom and said goodbye to me as I left the store. I mumbled back to her no words at all, just gibberish (I literally had no intention of words to be formed) and probably looked like I was walking away drunk, sad, and lost.
     Once we got back on the road I was about to lose my sanity. We had about 30 mins left before home and I didn’t think I had the ablity to survive. I drank some water and cried. Soon I was writhing in my seat. My guts started hurting so terribly bad I started to wonder if I was in labor. The ache was above and below the baby. I kept telling myself “no you aren’t in labor, this is just puke feeling mixed with maybe I’ll poop my pants feeling at the same time” but it felt so bad I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I started getting nervous. I started moving like a laboring women -- moaning too. I had to unbuckle -- I wound up hunched over backwards with my face glued to the side of my seat while I moaned. I was totally emotional about not being buckled to keep the baby safe. But I was unable to sit down anymore due to pain.
     With about 8 mins to go before we got home, I wound up puking into my (emptied) Target bag I had from shopping earlier. (So SO SO glad I had that bag! See, shopping is good!) After that I felt somewhat better -- I could stop the moaning. But I still had the awful low cramps and I started trembling.
     As soon as we got home I ran into the house and jumped into the bathtub, filling with warm water, trying to control my near convulsive shivers.
     At this point I am now seriously concerned. When near the end of my second pregnancy (37 weeks) I had a moment very similar when I thought I was in labor ---I was shivering like crazy having contractions, but it turned out I was sick and needed medicine -- the sickness could have put me in real labor in a bad way without it. It was all very uncomfortable and stressful for me. With that memory screaming at me, and the sensation of  very strong cramping coming at regular intervals all while I was shivering super hard, I started to worry I was losing the baby. I wasn’t spotting and when my stomach would clench up, I couldn’t feel my uterus from the outside with my hand on my belly (like when I have painless Braxton Hicks) so I kept telling myself they couldn’t be real contractions. I kept telling myself I’d be ok. But was was fighting some pretty strong emotions, thoughts of losing the baby, as well as thoughts of going through labor, sad unwanted labor, while feeling horrific.
I kept my belly under the warm water (side lying in the tub with my head on the side) trying to calm my body down.
Eventually I got out and threw up some more and was finally able to feel good enough to lay down in bed. The cramping calmed down and I knew I just needed sleep. (It of course took me forever to fall asleep due to feeling awful and the adrenaline I was now filled with.)
I totally freaked Blake out in the process of all this.
And I’ve now decided I will definitely not be traveling anywhere at all till this baby is born. I am never doing that again!

This baby is definitely a new experience for me. (Last pregnancy I spent TONS of time traveling, seeing as we moved 6 hours away and traveled tons because of that, with no repercussion other than boredom and maybe stiffness.)

The next day my body was so sore I felt that I had been beaten up by a professional boxer. It was very painful to even get up and walk.
Thankfully my parents came down and brought presents and played with the girls. So I was able to lay on the couch with a heating pad and watch “The Princess Bride” all day.

I was pretty recovered by Sunday, but we stayed home from church because I just wasn't ready to do a lot.

Monday I was feeling much better. My energy seemed to be coming back. My stomach less needy.

But yeah, second trimester started with a bang, that’s for sure. Let’s see what this week, well and I guess this next year(!) has for me!

I picked two belly pictures this week, I can’t tell which shape looks more like standard belly right now:

The lower down shape

Or

The up higher shape.

It kinda shifts depending on how I stand, if I smile, how I breath. They both look like now.

Compared to last time around with #2:

 

Maybe we are getting closer to catching back up with each other?

 I’m clearly still in the lead for week 15 this time around.

 Last week to this week:

Walt Grace’s Submarine Test

**Post disclaimer: This is a look at some of my birth journey.  This post in no way implies one single ounce of anything (especially anything negative) towards anyone else’s birth journeys.  I have nothing but love for mommas and their momma journeys.  We all get to travel our own roads.**



I know John Mayer is kinda a divisive subject matter.  (And actually that works well, as this whole post is on another divisive subject matter.)  I don’t know your personal opinion of John Mayer or his music, but I’ve always enjoyed his music.  (Not gonna make any statements about his personal life.)

I’ve begun to really relish one of his songs again recently, because it was something I clung to during my second pregnancy.  Right now, walking out this third pregnancy --- navigating these old-yet-new waters all over again, I’ve found myself comforted, and yet a pinch haunted, by it’s familiar tune.


While I was pregnant with my daughter Ruby we bought his album "Born and Raised.”

That time in my life was exceptionally trying for me.  We had just moved, I was the furthest I’d ever been from my family and anyone we knew.  I was pregnant for the second time and desperately trying to cling to my sanity --- as I had begun to fear birth, in a place so deep inside myself I didn’t know if I could come back from it, after being extremely disappointed in how my first birth experience went.  I’m fairly certain I had some post traumatic stress from the event.  It shook my faith.  And it alienated me from most everyone I knew, because no one seemed to understand how the simple act of giving birth and gaining a new healthy life could be scarring.  They seemed to feel exasperated by how long I was taking to recover emotionally, and shocked by how deeply this could affect me.  Yet admittedly they would often acknowledge verbally how I “couldn’t do it” in reference to my first birth, and constantly worry on my behalf for the second event of giving birth again.

Once I moved to a new location, I was faced with new birthing dilemmas.  The hospital nearby, which supposedly had some really great midwives (whom I would never be allowed to meet), did not allow for VBACs (Vaginal Births after Cesarean) only repeat c-sections.

I, of course, had to resign myself to the idea that if I needed a c-section again, I would have a c-section again.  But no part of my being could willingly sign up for a repeat c-section without a full effort towards a VBAC.  To accommodate this primal need, I had to begin to face totally new (for me) ideas towards birth.

My options were stranger and fewer than I was used to.  If I didn’t want a scheduled repeat c-section, my next closest birthing option was an hour away.  But these doctors weren’t exactly what you would call VBAC friendly --- placing heavy stipulations on the mother, in order to be “allowed” to try to VBAC.  And these stipulations are placed upon things that are not within anyone’s control --- such as baby’s predicted size (which isn’t even something that can be accurately judged) and going into labor “on time”, which may --- or may not --- be, a random date of the doctor’s choosing --- usually right around your due date, which I knew I was extremely likely to go past (induced at 42 weeks the first time around.)  Labor would be heavily monitored and movement and comfort measures very limited.  (Outside of epidurals, which aren’t touted for VBAC success.)

The better option --- which many women in my shoes and in my location would choose --- was a different hospital with midwives who were supportive of VBACs and allowed for laboring in birth tubs and the good stuff you’d hope for in birth, but these midwives were 2.5 hours away from my town!  I’ve known women (personally) who’ve had shorter labors than 2.5 hours!  That’s a long drive to make in labor.  And not to mention to make for check ups: monthly, then weekly, and with a 1.5 year old in tow.  (By the time I’d have gone there and back and been seen that would take an entire day which equals what, a year, in toddler time?)

The last option, one I had sworn I would never do, became my first option: home birth.

It was a ton to take in, mentally and emotionally.  It was literally the last place I ever expected to see myself going.  But I was going there because I felt it was the safest and the best option I had.  I began to read everything I could possibly get my hands on.  I was studying books nonstop and scouring the internet (not common baby forums, the deep unknown world of midwives’ from other countries websites, and ICAN statistics, and birth management papers --- all things I’d never seen before), trying to make sure I was choosing well and not risking my or my baby’s life.  The more I read, the better I felt.

But it doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.  And it doesn’t mean I wasn’t trying something that felt very untested.

I was doing all sorts of new things for me.  Like seeing a chiropractor in pregnancy because my midwife knew it would be good for me.  The setting of my midwife’s office and the chiropractor’s office was as alien to me as the surface of Mars.  And all the while I took deep breaths preparing for a potentially overwhelming unknown.

The wait was overwhelming.


While I would drive the hour to my midwife’s office, or the chiropractor’s office, I would listen to John Mayer’s Album “Born and Raised” --- most often listening on repeat to the song “Walt Grace’s Submarine Test, January 1967.”

(If you haven’t heard it before, I hope you listen to it --- it is the whole premise of this blog post.  I mean you might as well.  If you’ve heard it before, push play --- it’s just good.)

Walt Grace, desperately hating his old place
Dreamed to discover a new space and buried himself alive
Inside his basement
The tongue on the side of his face meant
He's working away on displacement
And what it would take to survive

'Cause when you're done with this world
You know the next is up to you

And his wife told his kids he was crazy
And his friends said he'd fail if he tried
But with the will to work hard and a library card
He took a homemade, fan blade, one-man submarine ride

That morning the sea was mad and I mean it
Waves as big as he'd seen it deep in his dreams at home
From dry land, he rolled it over to wet sand
Closed the hatch up with one hand
And pedaled off alone

'Cause when you're done with this world
You know the next is up to you

And for once in his life, it was quiet
As he learned how to turn in the tide
And the sky was aflare when he came up for air
In his homemade, fan blade, one-man submarine ride

One evening, when weeks had passed since his leaving
The call she planned on receiving finally made it home
She accepted the news she never expected
The operator connected the call from Tokyo
'Cause when you're done with this world
You know the next is up to you

Now his friends bring him up when they're drinking
At the bar with his name on the side
And they smile when they can, as they speak of the man
Who took a homemade, fan blade, one-man submarine ride

I’ve never connected so immediately to a song’s lyrics as these.  I was Walt Grace.  This song was my anthem.
This birth that I was about to try at home... was my homemade, fan blade, one-man submarine ride.

     Granted while pregnant, I didn’t know if I’d ever get to get in my submarine (I didn’t know if my body could start labor on it’s own --- my confidence had been shattered) nor if my submarine could hack it (I’d never pushed a baby out), but then again neither did Walt Grace --- I hated my old place (being told I couldn’t do it, and having machines and knives try to do it for me) so there I was, in my basement working away on what it would take to survive... and no one could talk me out of it.


“And his wife told his kids he was crazy.  And his friends said he fail if he tried.”

Blake [my husband] never told me (or told anyone) that I was crazy --- that guy was my rock and was literally the only thing that kept me from emotionally imploding. He supported me more on my choices than I did myself.

But other people told me I was crazy, or basically said as much.

I told very few people my plans, because I knew just how strongly the general population responds to the idea of home birth.  And I wasn’t up for defending myself to the general population.  (Just having a pregnant belly in front of the general population is enough to make most women furious at some point.)

But some people needed to know, and those were the only ones I told.  But that small amount of sharing created pretty much a 1:1 ratio of “you’ll fail if you try” responses.

Here are some of my “You’ll fail if you try” stories:

Come Thou Long Expected…

We are singing “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” at church on Christmas Eve this Wednesday. (The Tab is currently open on my internet window.) And it just dawned on me that I’ve essentially just been singing “Come Thou Long Expected Second Trimester” for 3 months now, and not doing a darn ’nother thing. Today is my first day of the second trimester. It’s Long Awaited Arrival is here.

It also occurred to me that song/bible verse “as the deer panteth for the water” has a different meaning for me now.  I have no idea what it feels like to be a deer and need water, but I am pretty sure this verse/song could be made stronger by changing it to “as the pregnant women pantheth for…” and you could say just about anything there. Like "second trimester", "to give birth", or even icecream/pickles/what-have-you. Pregnancy is one heck of an intense form of longing.
     Honestly, it’s so intense, that just giving that whole thought a good pondering kinda has me realizing my priorities might not be as good as I’d hope they’d be. I am not sure I’ve ever really gotten past my carnal needs/desires in order to long for God as strong as those intense moments in my physical existence where I’m longing so overwhelmingly that it’s the only thing I can think of. (Sorry this is way too heavy for the random start of this blog post.) But I do think in a way, having gone through these hard physical experiences does change how I need God, even if I can’t say I’d sing my new wording with full sincerity.

On that random, too heavy, out of nowhere, note I’d like to say, if you still read this blog at all. Thanks. I know it’s just a random modge podge of stuff anymore. I have zero blog focus. I don’t know that I’ve offered much of any useful information or interesting thoughts for a good 3 months. I’ve basically just sat here typing how I feel like crap for weeks. If you’ve stuck with me through that. Thanks. That’s love.

I’m hoping this long awaited second trimester brings me some relief and some energy.  I’m really rarin’ to go back to work on the house. I’ve spent these three months stuck on the couch, day dreaming up new plans and schemes for our less finished spaces.
Read: I’ve racked my brain till it hurts over this hard to design long narrow living room of mine. But I think I’ve at least come up with a color scheme to be excited about. I’ve abandoned the navy blue idea I mentioned earlier. A bit to Blake’s chagrin. But the more I looked at that room and really envisioned it that dark and that blue I just couldn’t feel at home in it. Plus, truth me told, I’m more of a green girl. Blue usually doesn’t do it for me as much as green does. Unless we can add some green to the blue, then we have magic.
     But in terms of this space, it’s right next to our reading room which is a vibrant green, with a dollop of blue to it.  So I have to be careful what I place next to it so they don’t fight.
     So in terms of the living room I think what I’m now leaning towards is a peaceful, sort of Lake Michigan blue-ish green-ish slightly vaguely gray (because it’s lake michigan and it doesn’t get tropical water blue) but mixed slightly with kinda happy robin’s egg blue. Maybe. (Give me a week and see if I don’t change my mind.)
    But I was inspired by some reading I did of how to paint long narrow rooms. Most everything I can find suggests painting the short end walls a darker color than then long walls. Which would give the room a suggestion of being square instead of rectangular. And one source said putting a pattern on the short walls will help even more to bring those walls forward and help "square off” the room.


 After pondering that over. I was really inspired by this wallpaper. As well as the general kinda fun and funky yet kinda traditional vibe of this room.

Via

(It’s not 100% me. I’m not so into that light, for instance. But I’m realizing my general style is something of a new meets old, but an older old than mid-century (no matter how much a do enjoy that style.) I’m closer to antique vintage, myself. I knew that at one point, but sort of forgot it for a while.)

Anyway, I think I’d like to kinda fake that fun modern, yet antique wallpaper look on my short walls with a stencil.

Via

(Because I will cry if I have to take down any more paper ever again.) (Also I can save myself mucho money, but not buying wallpaper.)  (But really the idea of taking it down later, just too much. TOO MUCH!)

I kinda like the simpleness of the just white(ish) in this photo, so I don’t know if I’d try bright colors like the wallpaper or not yet. Time will tell.

Now I just have to kinda lock down two colors for the walls. (I have my usually stack of tons and tons of barely different colors.)

Blake was happy to hear I’d still be including some dark, for the short walls. But I’m not sure how dark I will go.

Speaking of dark. That room, has felt incredibly dark since we bought the house. It has no over head lighting (hope to fix that someday.) So I always just attributed the dark feel to that. But it did always seem kinda counterintuitive since there is a window and a large windowed french door. But that goes into the sunroom, so I figured the light just couldn’t make it in. And the window just must be facing the wrong way for light.

 

Well that has all changed this weekend!!

 Blake’s family came into town to help us do a bit of work on the house for a day.

   The first thing Blake and his dad tackled was cutting down the very dead pine tree in our front yard. The tree was half alive when we bought the house (it had been overly limbed up and I think that did it in), but had since completely given up the ghost. It definitely needed to go.

Dead Tree, needs to go.

   We were all shocked at how easily it came down and how fast they were able to get it cleaned up and hauled off. 

I think within an hour and a half the tree looked like it had never been there and the guys were already back from hauling away the remains.  It was crazy.

It cost $18 to dispose of. Who knows how much it would have cost to have professionally removed. (Tree removal is super pricey.) DYI! Always so fulfilling.

The yard looks so great without it there. So great, it’s almost like nothing happened because it feels “right” for once.

Flash back fun:

Pre-ownership --
 AHHHHH!!!

    Since that went so fast they were also able to do a couple more great things like:

Put up the electric for our future ceiling fans in the sunroom.
Awesome.

    And quite possibly my favorite event of the weekend...
(The other two were bigger deals, but this one changes my day to day more.)

Taking off the awning from the living room window. When we bought the house a couple people asked if I’d take the awing off (bottom left).

 But I thought it kinda evened out the porch roof line from the outside, and I figured the sun must attack the living room at night or something for it to be needed. After living here for a year, there was one season (forgot which now) where the sun did set into the room a bit, but not that much. It seemed kinda pointless, but one silly thing I did like about it was the way the rain sounded dripping onto it. So peaceful. It just kinda amped up raindrop sounds, which I love.

Here’s a terrible shot (including a toilet in the scary looking, no floor, started-to-paint-it living room) which shows how the awning covers up half the view and takes away lots of light.

     But as I started trying to figure out colors for this room I became certain that awning had to go. I didn’t think it would change much, but I figured it would add a smidgen of light.

    Once it was off, it was like the whole world opened up. 

I have no feel on the objects in this photo -- just the light. Layout & items belonging in this room still a mystery.

I had no idea the improvement could be so huge. The front window faces west. It doesn’t get direct sun until sunset, but even still, now the room fills up fully with light as soon as the sun is up, to nearly three fourths of the way down the long walls --- and even the last fourth still is significantly brighter. And to put the cherry on top --- the days since the awning removal have either been cloudy or rainy! A bright day is gonna knock my socks off!

The light makes a big difference in the entryway, the hallway towards the kitchen, and the light even makes it around a corner into the downstairs bathroom a bit. So awesome!

 Also…. the windows look HUGE now. They actually are really big, but I just had no idea before. 

The room feels fantastic. I finally feel drawn to the space.

I am SO SO SO glad we took it down. It was like a 5 min job. But it basically changed everything. (And it looks good from the outside too.) 

I really can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner. But honestly, I don’t mind that I waited so long because now I get to really really appreciate the difference, and the space will feel extra special to me now.

As far as pregnancy goes.

This week I was still tired and nauseous. My mom was awesome and came down this week and helped me clean everything. My house has been so messy and gross since I got pregnant. So it felt great to have a fresh start. And even though she did most the work, I was wiped out from the stuff I did do. I tell ya, this pregnancy stuff isn’t a cake walk. 

   I so often feel defeated by it. I’m used to thinking of myself as really capable. I’m used to being able to muster up strength and stamina to get hard stuff done. I’ve started to put accomplishments under my belt and look back on them to give the strength for new hard things. But right now, looking at those accomplishments are just baffling because I can’t physically accomplish more than mere survival. It makes me feel really wimpy.

    That said. I feel like my mental place is improving. I’ve been reading pregnancy stuff, which is bolstering me. 

    This week’s read is Ina May’s “Birth Matters.” I’m not done with it, to write about it. But it’s an awesome book. Highly recommend. 

Ina May is wonderful. Midwives like her (I’ve been blessed to get to know a couple in person) seriously improve life as a whole -- not just birth, but the whole essence of existence. Which is something Ina May touches on initially in her book, that a society who values birth and mothers will value so much more. It’s super true. 

   I’ve also been listening to my Hypnobabies “joyful pregnancy affirmations” every night now. (I’ve been having a hard time falling asleep lately, despite feeling tired all the time, so I enjoy how it kinda primes me for sleep.) And I think that is also really helping my mental state.

I really hope this week says “Yay second trimester.” But I kinda think I may have a bit longer to go before that sensation comes.

Physically:
I’m getting round ligament pains when I get up now. And I get really stiff after sitting. And my hips are lose enough already that I often catch myself waddling -- I really can’t believe that -- but it’s what’s happening.

Food:

The good news is that the food I’ve been craving to cure the nausea has taken a dramatic turn from carbs and crap…. to veggies. Which is super encouraging. A little tricky because I feel hungry faster after those, and so I get nauseous more frequently through the day. But I’m so happy my body wants healthy things now.

Baby:

      This week I’ve been feeling the baby move. There was one evening where I was positive that’s what I was feeling. And that little one was really going at it. That was pretty fun. I don’t feel that all the time though. I haven’t felt much after that evening. 

Belly:

     This week I’ve also begun to feel braxton hicks. I think I felt them this early with my second pregnancy, but I didn’t know what I was feeling. (Having not felt natural contractions prior.) Back then I thought it felt like a bigger baby pushing hard on my belly with feet for a long time, despite knowing the baby wasn’t big enough to do that, so I had no explanation for the sensation. Now I know what real contractions feel like, and I know what they are, so I know these are braxton hicks. I don’t mind them a bit. Actually they kinda amuse me. I like when they are strong enough to turn my uterus into a round little ball so I can really tell where it is. It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be now. I kinda just thought I was eating too much, and my belly was all food. But once it was hard, I was like “wow my uterus is already way up here.”

Speaking of which, I’d say this bump is officially official now. Poppin out, bigger and lower, than last week.

I’d say I’m trumpin the prior pregnancies by a lot.

14 weeks with Baby #1

Part of me wants to be like “Oh crap, I’m gonna be huge.”

 But I’m sticking to my Hypnobabies affirmation,

 “I love my pregnant body and accept it every day.”

Also, I keep reminding myself this little tid-bit. We just signed up for (different) life insurance. And had to have the health exam for that. I was all worried I’d get a crappier rate since I’m pregnant and have gained weight and figured my heart rate would be wacky. But apparently our Life Insurance person has on two separate occasion brought up to Blake how awesome my rate is because my health is so great. I keep telling myself that when I want to freak out about 'getting huge' --

“I’m healthy. I’m healthy. I’m healthy. That’s the real issue. Not what I look like." 

But I’ve got a good hubby who tells me I’m pretty all the time -- so that helps.

 Even if most the time I laugh at him

 because when he tells me when I usually feel like I’m lookin all:

 "'How I Met Your Mother' Season 6, Episode 1"’s Robin who’s let herself go: 

And

I’ll leave you with that. :)

Hope you have a Great Christmas or Holiday!

12 Weeks of Pregnancy Down

Ok. Well, here’s the thing. Week 11 was exciting because I thought I made it through the nausea woods. But Week 12 showed me a new patch of nausea woods to travel through. It was pretty disheartening. It felt like I went back to square one. I was glad I had gotten the little vacation from it, but I didn’t know I’d be going back, so when I did it really got me feeling disappointed and defeated. I guess my energy level was up a little, but it felt like a waste, since my nausea feels best lying down. It  was the very worst by evening.

I was back to eating whatever didn’t sound awful at the moment. Which is still lots of takeout foods. Thankfully, by the end of the week I had eaten two different salads and didn’t have much aftermath to deal with. I could tell it took longer to digest and it gave me more burps than normal (sorry, I’m not prettying this up better.) But I kept it down, and didn’t feel awful. I by no means think because of those two salads, I ate healthy this week, but the fact that I enjoyed some salad gives me hope. I’m hoping by Christmas or the New Year I will be feeling myself and can shoot for a much healthier diet. Thus far I am gaining weight much closer to my first pregnancy than my second (first pregnancy = junk food no activity, second pregnancy = healthiness.) I’ve come to terms with the idea that if I gain more weight than I want to this time, I will live and I will be fine, and I can lose it later. I know how. But I really do want to treat my body well, and I really don’t want to tempt fate into giving me a ten pound newborn. (I tend to grow me some hefty babies, especially since I tend to keep them growing inside for a LONG time.) So after I can stand food again, I want to do it better than I have been. Blah! You know you feel like crap when you actually get jealous of your former self-on-a-diet, a diet which made you feel like you were starving. When the idea that feeling starving hungry sounds like a nice sensation when pitted up against nonstop nausea -- that’s when I know I’m in a gross, gross place.

I did go to the Y once last week. The actual time spent in the Y wasn’t bad. I could tell my stamina is coming up a bit while swimming. I still took lots of breaks leaning back on the walls between laps. But I used the breaks to practice tuning everything out -- I figured may as well do something, why not practice that since it’s helpful for labor and good for me now (I wanted to feel uncomfortable looking wimpy in front of everyone around me -- but that’s dumb.) So I just sat and tried to tune out all my thoughts while I watched the water move until I was ready to do another lap.  So that was ok. But then when I got home I was worthless. I used all my energy for the day up in 20 mins of swimming. So I didn’t go again -- didn’t feel worth it. (This coming week I hope to do my faux-yoga here and there, just to kinda stretch out and feel like I did something with my body. And also to tune my thoughts to something healthier too.)

Speaking of thoughts, this week I started to face them. Actually, no --- they started to sneak into my blood stream. The only thing I can figure is that my hormonal state is getting closer to what it was once we moved last time. I was pregnant then, and once we moved I started really facing my fears of birth --- making major decisions and trying to grapple with them. I didn’t handle that with grace -- I handled it with white knuckles and tears. So I don’t know, this week I didn’t really face anything specific, but by Friday night I was starting to feel fear inside my body -- I was feeling shaky and my heart was pounding fight or flight style. The only thing I can figure is my body has come to associate this pregnancy hormonal cocktail with fear. It’s way too early for hypnobabies (they recommend starting that around 7 months pregnant) but I was feeling so stressed out that I told Blake, “Sorry but you are about to have a ‘beautiful peaceful pregnancy’ with me, I have to turn on hypnobabies tonight.” (He didn’t listen to them last time -- I wore headphones. But that night I had no headphones around.) He was super sweet about it, and after we got over some giggles, I listened to some fear clearing and some joyful pregnancy affirmations until I feel asleep.

Saturday morning our church had a Christmas Tea. Honestly, being a (sick-feeling) pregnant introvert, I really resisted the idea of going to this. But I signed up for it. And I’m so glad I did. It wasn’t easy for me. The initial smells of the brunch when I got there seriously had my questioning if I could stay or not, thankfully I was able to stay calm enough to let the sensations pass and the smells to feel less strong to me. And I was able to mostly enjoy the social time at my table (if you are an introvert, you hear me -- social time in groups -- no matter the group, no matter how awesome -- still a stain.) But what I was so so in love with was the speaker’s talk. I almost started crying when she introduced what she was going to talk about. (To be fair, I cry at the drop of a hat these days, but still.) It was about “Our Prince of Peace.” If there was ever a moment where I needed this talk, it was right that very second. Not only was the subject matter basically God saying, “Lydia, I know you. I saw you shaking in fear, but I’m right here with you. You are going to be ok.” But I really enjoyed the women who was speaking. She won me over pretty fast, but when she went on to talk about how when she paints a room she has 100 shades of the same green plastered all over the room, I felt like soul mates. (I have 100 shades of blue plastered all over my living room, and I actually feel like I don’t have anywhere near enough shades to pick from -- none of them seem like the one.)

That’s not the half of the colors…the rest are in a baggie! Picking a blue is hard!

I seriously had to hold back tears through most of the talk because it all just hit me so perfectly.

While listening to the talk at the tea, I started to process some of the points she went over. And I kinda felt like, for me to really be able to accomplish some of the ideas, at this point in my life and hormonal state, I think I need to really back off Facebook again. (I had done that for a while, and I felt great, but recently due to nausea and exhaustion related boredom I’ve been on it a lot again.) Actually I need less screen time in general. Beloved Pinterest too. I kinda think I just need to cocoon kinda early for this pregnancy. (I always like to shut the world out at the end of pregnancy, but I think I may be craving that sooner this time.) I still want to blog. I’ll still link it to my blog’s Facebook page. But I don’t want to spend much time on my Facebook news feed right now. (P.S. The speaker never mentioned Facebook/the internet -- this is just my own mental path of working things out.)

One other thing that stuck out to me me, I feel worth sharing. Was just the simple statement that it’s ok to enjoy the stage you are in. Anything from the stage of life you are in, or just the simpleness of your morning coffee without mentally rushing out of it. I don’t know, the simpleness of how she said it struck me. So many times people say it like a command, “Enjoy every second, it goes by so fast.” And that just confuses my over-thinking mind. I go into the fake future to try and understand that. I look back to try and see if I’m making any sense. And I rush around like crazy trying to make sure I’m obeying. But just the simple permission of hearing “It’s ok to enjoy the stage you are in.” felt like peace, felt like freedom to rest inside the moment.

And I think that’s part of why I liked my extrapolation of taking more time off Facebook again. Facebook never fails to confuse me out of enjoying my now -- in numerous different ways. I’d like the idea of freedom from too many thoughts -- so I have mental time to enjoy the stage I am in, instead of analyzing to death the stage I am in.


In other news, this week I read the book “Pushed: The painful truth about childbirth and modern Maternity Care” by Jennifer Block. 

The material is heavy. It was written in 2007, so I’m not sure if some of the hospital and c-section/VBAC rates are still accurate, but they were 7 years ago. And I don’t think they’ve changed a whole lot -- at least not as far as the experiences I’ve personally encountered would lead me to believe.
    I don’t think it’s for every pregnant mom to read. Just because it’s heavy. But in many ways it’s very freeing to read, because you can see where the scary statistics thrown at you as a pregnant women (especially a "had a c-section pregnant women") originate from. Explaining how often the studies that conclude these numbers are skewed by the inability to really do fair blind tests in terms of birth. And how often times many factors of the studies were wrongly interpreted. (The specifics are well laid out in the book, it’s not vague at all.) It feels like it gives you the strength to believe more than the scary words laid in your path, because you get to see how they aren’t really accurate, and you can see why they are laid in your path (Spoiler alert: malpractice suits happen pretty much any time, but after a c-section.) (Which by the way -- this isn’t really in the book, but, my beloved Iowa Midwife holds the belief that things won’t change in our birthing environment until women start suing over wrongful c-sections.)
    At other times though, the information in the book can be emotionally overwhelming as it really delves into the issues. There is a chapter that kinda just endlessly points out the downfalls of c-sections and the medical issues that can result from them. The point of the chapter being doctors need to do a better job of weighing pros and cons of c-sections instead of rushing into them so easily -- as it seems some hospitals do as many c-sections as possible. It’s not a fun read when you know your abdomen has been sectioned -- hearing side effects that result in something already done to you -- not easy. But for some reason I read on, and it doesn’t seem to add any fear to my plate. I think what it has done is shed some light on some of the more pointed things I’ve read online when people in forums seemed, to me, to be attacking moms who’ve had c-sections -- in reading this book I feel like I’m coming more and more to terms with the idea that (most) people in the forums are not addressing the moms who’ve had c-sections but a very broken medical field, and that us c-section mommas can just read the words as floating over us, knowing they are pointed towards people who have the chance to change.
   There have been times where I had to take breaks from reading this book. I almost returned it to the library when I started the chapter really diving into c-sections. It starts by describing a c-section the author was allowed to witness. I read that with hesitance. I read it muscles tensed up. I read it both very interested, and very cringingly. I read it with disappointment, and I read it with awe. (These are just my personal responses as my memory of my own c-section plays along side the read.)
    There was a chapter where it pointed out the way medical interventions where becoming more and more prevalent during the victorian ear. Which coincidentally, or not, was when women were wearing corsets which were crushing women’s bodies into having 21” waists --- deforming a lot of their internal organs, reproductive systems, even breaking ribs and altering pelvises. Women also continued wearing corsets during pregnancy as it was supposed to alleviate issues (which clearly wear created by it.) So the book points out that the pain in childbirth then was likely a much bigger issue at this time due to the deformation of women’s bodies. And during this time is when women started fighting for their right to pain relief in labor. So it’s an interesting phenomenon to behold in history.
    I started to relate to the book more and more towards the end. I myself, being a women who has had a c-section and had to face down the medical community in terms of my rights to labor and birth I really saw the statements in these chapters as truth -- truth that really truly affects women in big deal ways. The chapters felt like a voice of my own and women I have met. They aren’t over dramatized at all in my opinion. These chapter could fill libraries if women were to share more.
   The last chapter was especially interesting letting some new thoughts form in terms of women’s rights and how that affects our right to birth and how that’s sort of the last frontier of the feminist movement -- a frontier that’s still mostly ignored.

So it might be a good book for some expecting mommas. But if you don’t want to read it, don’t read it. Read something helpful to you. Not hurtful. For me it was helpful because it really truly does clear up where all the “fear statistics" arrived from and why they are still so heavily circulated. Having that kind of information allows my mind to relax and trust again.


     If you want a lighter look at the American History of Childbirth, I read this one while pregnant with my first and was not scared or scarred by it. It is an easier to follow history as it goes in very clear chronological order. My favorite chapter in it was actually the c-section chapter just due to the entertaining way it was written. And I enjoyed having those stories in my mind after I had my c-section.


     But if you would rather just read something encouraging towards natural birth, my personal all time favorite pregnant read was the birth stories in Ina May’s Spiritual Midwifery. (It has to be that book, not her other one. I didn’t read the rest of the book, just the birth stories.) They were life changing for me. And I totally plan on reading them again in the near future. Ina May’s take on the way your emotions can effect your labor really steered me in how I labored and I think it made my labor a very good one. Besides that, the concept of labor was presented in a way I’d literally never even heard of, and I found it so stunningly beautiful that I was able to say “Wow even if I never go into labor on my own, even if I never experience anything like these stories, I am thrilled to know this is something that happens. It is amazing what God made our bodies to do!” -- Which, if you ever entered my mind during my second pregnancy, you would never have thought I’d submit to the idea I wouldn’t do it myself and be ok. I was really moved by the beauty to be able to think that.
(But small soap box moment: Please don’t think that just reading good birth stories will get you a good birth. Your birth outcomes are heavily affected by your provider. Please search out a provider you feel comfortable with. You hire your provider -- you are allowed to be picky. And you are allowed to stand your ground on how you wish to be treated.)

Anyway, enough book talk.

Not much else to report. I feel some baby flutters sometimes. My belly feels big enough to touch and rub now,

but I feel goofy doing it because I think the baby is so much smaller than I look. (The internet says baby is the size of a peach now.)
Oh well. I do it now, because I can. And baby can feel me. And We love each other.

We all love each other.

They are tickling the baby. :)

This week is just kinda me deciding to get control of myself. The hardness level of the start of this pregnancy has been more than I anticipated, so I didn’t start this pregnancy with a very positive mental stance. I guess I must be feeling a little better, for me to get enough gumption to grab this bull by the horns. Or at least try to.

I’m really hoping week 13 starts to turn back out of nausea woods. But either way, I’m going to try and keep my mind in check.

In house news:
Blake got our gorgeous reading room light wired up and hooked up! Let there be light! It is wonderful!

The cushions stay on this couch only if the girls are in bed. :)

The light hangs a little low on our 8’ ceilings. But It doesn’t affect our not-so-tall family. If a tall person/family buys our house in the future they can decide if it matters to them enough to change it (and if they do, please give the light back to me!) 

(The light used to be lower in here before anyway because it was over a table.)

 But for me, this light is perfect. Couldn’t be happier with it.

He’s also been putting up insulation in the sunroom a little bit at a time. (We don’t use the room in the winter anyway.)

Belly comparisons:

11 Weeks Pregnant, Down

Warning, this post is kinda long, cause I cover not only pregnancy, but house stuff at the end too. So if you are only into house stuff, just scroll down.


I’m hitting the big 1-2 (weeks) today. Only two weeks left of the first trimester. (And the crowd goes wild!)

So how was week 11?

Not bad.

Which after many weeks of very bad, feels equivalent to great!

(Well until Monday night…but we will get to that.)

Food:
The queasiness has gone down significantly. I keep telling myself it’s gone. But the thing is, it’s really not all the way gone, so I get confused when I feel it again. I’m just so pumped to be almost done with it that I take things a bit too far in my mind. :)
Generally speaking, I don’t have it any where near as strong anymore. And I don’t have it anywhere near as many hours. Before it was all day and night long. Now it’s just here and there, but mostly at night.
However, that said, Monday was a pretty ify day for me the whole day. I had to tell the girls like 500 times that I wasn’t feeling up to stuff. (They couldn’t really comprehend that any more, since I’ve been back to my normal-ish self for a bit.) And by Monday night I had thrown up two times. Which is a pregnancy first for me -- morning sickness has never made me throw up before now. So kinda weird that as I am getting better that happens. I think I let myself go too long without food -- but I couldn’t think of anything I could eat that was in the house -- and Blake was running to the store, so I tried to just wait till he got home, but I threw up twice while he was gone. I’ll spare you the details, but I was struck by the way morning sickness throwing up is very different, and yet very similar to actually sick throwing up. The rest of that night was pretty darn gross feeling. (And since that was only yesterday, I’m hoping I get to still count myself as feeling better for week 12…)

So yeah, I do have to make sure to eat often to help stay feeling ok. But since I know that I can usually keep it at bay till the evening. But both endearingly, and annoyingly, night time nausea can be mildly cured by ice cream. Not kidding. If I eat ice cream it goes down significantly. If I eat something else it usually gets worse. After I threw up, the only thing I could stomach was ice cream -- and I had to eat something to stop the madness. So while I do enjoy me some ice cream, I do feel the health-guilt. Oh well right. At this point if it’s only gonna make me fat, not the baby. I’ve lost baby weight before, I’ll lose it again.

The good news is, even though I officially haven’t really eaten anything considered healthy this week, I can envision myself eating things like chicken and salads and veggies. And while that might sound like a pathetic statement, I actually think it’s a big deal.  Before this week, the very thought of food like that felt like death in my gut -- not an imaginary pain, but a real pain, just from a mental image. So now that I can eat it in my minds eye, I think that soon I’ll be eating healthier again. Which makes me feel a bit better.

I can tell tastes are shifting. I like plain water now. Not lemon water. (Dislike that now.) And I ate some chilly at the end of this week and that tasted like magic comfort delights.  And I am back to drinking my beloved morning coffee. (Missed you old friend!)

Physically:
I still haven’t made it to the Y to swim again this week. I thought I would. I felt like I had a return of energy. But it’s not quite enough yet. (I’m hoping this upcoming week I’ll make it.)

That’s been the tricky part of this week. Like I said before, not feeling awful, made me feel over confident. The first couple days I felt better I over did it. I thought I’d take the girls to the library. And so we went, and they were great. But the experience was just too much for my body. When I got home I was so spent, that I didn’t feel in control of my emotions at all. I just wanted to introvert out. But we are in the “why” stage. So I was on the verge of losing my mind. Once Blake got home he left me to be alone with a book so I could recover. I did something similar another day just doing too much around the house and so in evening I was Crankypants Magee again. Since then I’ve been trying to judge where I am really at physically a bit more accurately.

Lesson here, I’m doing good, not great. And that’s ok. Eventually I’ll be back at a normal pace. For now I need to accept the ability to do a little with great joy. (And believe me, I am. I REALLY disliked the weeks prior to this.)

Emotionally:
So I spent the entirety of weeks 6 -10 nonstop chanting to myself “I’m never doing this again.” As well as “I think this is what chemo feels like.” A trip up my flight of stairs felt like it earned a 2 hour nap. I was seriously non-functional. Just being awake and getting the girls enough food to live till Blake got home was nearly impossible.
So I just kept chanting to myself, “I’m never doing this again."

So I was sure I’d be able to retain this intense experience fully. But the weird thing is already this week, while feeling better-ish, I’ve forgotten exactly how bad it is. And have already told myself a bunch of times, “See it wouldn’t be so bad to do it at least one more time, see how ok you feel now.”
Is that crazy? It sorta sounds like it. lol. I don’t know.

In other news emotionally:
This week I’ve been reading a ton of birthing info on random fears I come up with. This weeks favorite fear was shoulder dystocia. (Just because it happens sometimes, no bigger reason that that.) After all the reading I’ve done, I think I may now actually be certified to deliver a baby with shoulder dystocia. (Cause I wasn’t reading just WebMD kinda pages -- those kind of pages are always terrifying -- I was reading things like different midwives’ in numerous countries information pages. I don’t mess around.)
Knowing stuff always makes me feel better. If I know information, I can make choices I feel confident in.  If I don’t know something, I feel subject to endless invented fears about it. So now I feel much less nervous about shoulder dystocia since I read all about it  (and a few other random things I ended up clicking through to as well.)

Clothes:
This week proved to me clothes are not as easy as I thought they would be this time.
     Granted they aren’t as hard as the first time. (I had no clue that time. Was always afraid to buy stuff cause I didn’t know how long it would last. Never really liked anything I bought.) And well, the second time I really honestly didn’t give a crap. I just wore lose regular dresses and leggings every single day. 
     This time I wanted to try and attempt to feel naturally cute for one pregnancy at least. So I thought I had all my first trimester stuff picked out. And they were working until I popped a lot sooner than I thought I would. (See last week’s pics.) Then everything was making me feel fat. I didn’t have any real maternity jeans to speak of. I got rid of the ones from #1 because they were too big. I had one pair I tried to make for #2 but they were so uncomfortable I hated them. So all I had to go on were a couple pairs I was given that have the really short waist band. So I was trying to wear those this week. But that kind of band has never worked on me at any stage. (I assume they must work for some people because they make them. But I am not one of them.) They kept falling down (nearly off my butt) all day (and not because my butt so so dainty either.) And when they were up, they were giving me extra-high-up muffin top where they came to an end -- since my baby bump is still very soft. Not the look or feel I was hoping for.
So Saturday I went shopping. (Christmas Shopping bonanza abounded around me.) I hit Motherhood Maternity since I knew I like their belly panels the most.
I tried on pretty much every pair of jeans they had. (Excluding ones I could just tell were not my style while holding them.) And let me tell you, I am obsessed with how great Jessica Simpson’s maternity jeans are. Wow. They are clearly the nicest quality of jeans that store has. You can just feel it when picking them up along side any other brand in there. The fabric feels softer and more authentic. And the belly panel is the same story. (Hers have their own kind of panel with her emblem subtlety woven in.) Her panels are much more sturdy feeling. When you pull them on, they do a really nice job of smoothing your belly. I imagine these being nice postpartum. And the leg/butt fit (at least on me) is amazing! I went from feeling dumpy and chubby in what I had been wearing, to slim, cute and looking good in as many seconds as it took to pull them on. I was wowed. They had a buy one get one half off sale, so I bought the skinny jean version (in petite, since I’m 5’3”. They are a great length for me.)And I bought the slim-boot cut as well. (Regular length was all they had in store, but they work for me ok. Petite would probably only work for flats.)  Because as in-style as skinny jeans are, sometimes I don’t feel like skinny jeans look the best on my body for every kind of outfit. So I figured get both with the sale.

I took some pictures for you. I feel lame doing it. But I thought it might help anyone who’s looking to shop. I also should have taken photos in the bad pants so you could see the major improvement  -- but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it -- muffin top online? I do a lot for you guys, but my hormones aren’t up for it ;) (P.S. I was too tired to do my hair or put on make up for any of the photos on here today. Oh well.)

So here are the skinny jeans:

As much as I think these pants do for my butt -- there is only so much pants can do ;)

And the boot cut:

Look they even give me a thigh gap! ;)

Sorry. 

Pitiful!

(My thighs don’t gap, ever, even if I was starving to death -- 

which is actually good news for me since my hubby finds the thigh gap scary. If your thighs do gap -- pay no attention to him, he just found the legs for him on me. :) Works out nicely.)

I’ve been wearing them for three days and they are incredibly comfortable. Like seriously the same level of comfort as my yoga pants. (I may be wearing these maternity pants for life? Ssh, don’t tell. :) ) Moral of the story. If you are pregnant, or will be in the future, try these pants on! I’ve come to decide that a good pair of maternity jeans can make or break your mental state while pregnant. I’m so glad Jessica Simpson had kids and made these jeans in my childbearing era -- it’s a rather big jean breakthrough if you ask me.

The Belly:

Anyway, all that said. I can’t feel any really difference in belly size. (I’m kinda hoping it doesn’t get too big yet -- I mean, I’m not even in my second trimester yet! Sheesh!) 

But Blake gave me a hug yesterday and said it felt like a baby belly. So things they are a changin.

With #2

Baby:
I do think I feel flutters kind of a lot. I can’t wait till I get the real-deal-kick-feelings. And I really can’t wait till everyone else can feel them too! Jasmine loves to talk to the baby all the time. She’s gonna LOVE feeling kicks! Makes me hope this baby is a kicker. (I also hope this baby is a sleeper! But that’s another story. Time will tell. I’ll love 'em either way.)

Christmas update:
An awesome friend gave us a really pretty tree this week. She saw my blog post, had an extra and just offered to bring it over. (Amazing!) So we are Christmas-ed up now. And that feels good.
Yesterday me and the girls decorated it together, and I had to bite my tongue the whole time as they were doing things like placing 7 ornaments on the same stem of the same branch. Eventually we talked the ornaments into a more even placement. And yet, right now, as I type, I’m watching the excellent job I did of decorating, with everything spaced well and looking lovely, be dismantled and rearranged by my 4 year old who is sure she is improving things. Half of me is super annoyed, and half of me thinks its cute. And those two half just can’t get the other one to agree with the other -- my head is ready to tell them both to shut up!
  Random rabbit trail: I’m always struck by how we spend our whole lives trying to get really, really good at things, and we finally do, just in time to have kids and give up all the awesomeness we achieved so they can start that whole process themselves. I kinda wish someone had sat me down as a teenager and told me “Hey, no matter how good you get at …. FILL IN THE BLANK….plucking your eyebrows, wedding photography, decorating a christmas tree, shopping well and dressing for your body….whatever you can think of….no matter how good you get at it, once you have kids it won’t matter the same way, and it won’t be achievable the same way, and it won’t be the same thing. Don’t try so hard now. Just have fun. Later on if you have gotten it all figured out, you’ll just be irritated beyond belief that you have to start from scratch again, because it feels like robbery. Don’t worry about this stuff, try to stay a kid, so when you have kids you won’t be so lost.”

Back to Christmas: Our advent calendar of bags taped to the wall, has died. The tape wasn’t strong enough to hold it up. And after the 7th or so time it fell down, Blake was ready to bomb the wall. So we just set the bags up by our tiny tree. It works.

House stuff:
The same friends who brought our tree, also was awesome enough to help us move our credenza. Not once, but twice! I had originally bought it thinking “kitchen breakfast bar” (Like this kinda thing.) But once I had lived with it in the space long enough I didn’t feel like it was “right.” I couldn’t decorate around it. It felt too formal for the whole vision I had of the room. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted the space available to turn the table the other direction. (Once we turned the table I felt SO GOOD -- the space works so much better this way. It’s actually the way I envisioned it being placed once the end-all kitchen makeover happens, so it makes sense to just do it now.)
     So I thought the credenza would be a great thing to set at the end of the living room -- since that space is un-solved as to how to use it.  So our friends helped us move it. (Blake doesn’t want me lifting it, since it’s hefty.) But once it got in the space it felt really off. REALLY off. It’s scale next to the fireplace was all wrong. And it’s look was just too formal in there too. I was starting to think I’d need to sell it, that maybe I had bought a beautifully wrong item for our house.
     But then the light bulb went off. I suddenly decided it must go in the family room. It should be the TV stand, instead of our toy cabinets. And then I crossed my fingers that the toy cabinets would look ok in the fireplace nooks. Because I really can’t see living without them -- their function is perfection for us. So our awesome friends came back and moved it again for me. And let me tell you, I LOVE it in this room. LOVE IT. And surprisingly I really like the toy cabinets in the nooks as well. I was really worried that their more mid-centery modern (ish) look would scream “I don’t belong here” next to the credenza. Especially since they are opposite wood tones. But surpassingly it doesn’t bother me at all. I’m loving the way they cabinets fill in that space and make it feel real and useful. If they color difference bothers me eventually, I could always refinish the doors or paint (But I like the wood grain, so I doubt I’d paint.) When we get time (which may be in 100 years) I’d like to fill in the gap on the left side with an open bookcase shelf thing, to make it seem done.

Like how I cleaned up for you? ;)

     But the credenza in this room is like a HUGE upgrade to the space. We’ve been tweeking this room for a while now. And it slowly went from random stuff after a move, to a room that’s on purpose. But now it feels like a real room. I’m so glad we tried it in here.

This lame “I’m pregnant, I don’t care” photo does the room no justice.

Other than that, Blake’s been working on rewiring this amazing antique real bronze lantern. I found it at a architectural salvage we have here in Champaign. I saw it there a few times and would just stare and drool. I didn’t think I had anywhere to put it. But then I figured out I could put it in our reading room. And I snatched that puppy right up. I even got a talked down a deal on it. Only $20!
We had planned to have a place in town rewire it, just to save us the effort. But then they told us it would cost $100 to do. (This is why I can never NOT DIY. Professionals are not cheap for anything.) So we went to go get it back (unfixed) and Blake has spent $10 to do it ourselves. 

Yep. DIY. The only way for me.
    But it was funny, because we left it at the shop for a long time. (Essentially they forgot to call us, and then we forgot to call them.) So when Blake carried it back in the house, I had forgotten what it looked like, and my heart seriously skipped a beat when I saw it again. I really like this light.
     Now he just has to figure out the random wiring of that room again (we unhooked the old light a year ago -- he’s gotta remember what’s going on in there.) And then that room will be lit! Woohoo! BUT also, the power will once again flow to most of the living room outlets that have been out of commission for a year, since it’s all connected and needs the circuit to close. Can’t wait!

And in color news: I was initially horrified by the color we put on the walls in the living room. It’s a vaguely purpley gray. But before we put our bamboo floors in, it was screaming lavender.

(You cant tell as much in this photo as I’d like, but the white floors made the walls really purple)

 Once the floors were it, it went back to mostly gray.

But I never really loved it. Recently I had an emotional gut reaction that the space NEEDS to be a dark navy blue. Blake is so on board with this.
   I’ve been thrilled with the color in the reading room.

I love being in that space. I love the deep enveloping sensation, the coziness, the feeling that the room has purpose. I really love being in there.

But in contrast, the living room has zero welcome to it. It feels extremely purposeless. Part of this is because the furniture layout and use of the room is a mystery to me -- but it’s more than that. The color of the room isn’t doing anything. It’s clearly better than the the old yellow, but it’s just kinda a nothing for the space. Not a plus, not a minus. I think if I can find the right blue the space will sing for me. I think it will call you to come in and stay, not let you walk past. Not sure when I’ll get to this. Not sure how long it will take me to commit to a blue (not sure if I will change my mind.) Not sure how easy it will be to be sure of the color without any real lights in the space. (The room has no over head lights. We’d like to put some in, but it’s gonna be a feat. So it might be a LONG time.) But either way -- the thought has me excited about the space for the first time. I’ve been mentally wrestling that thing to the ground -- it’s a HARD space.

I’ve also begun to question my color choice for the kitchen. It was made solely on the reaction it had to the pinky-beige backsplash that was in there. But once I painted the backsplash tiles white, I felt like maybe the color choice was wasted. I feel like maybe I should just go white. I’m trying to put my finger on my ultimate kitchen -- not because I plan on having the ultimate kitchen, but because I need know which direction is mine. I think I’m a white kitchen person. I think I need white walls. But I’m not sure I need white cabinets. But maybe I do. I’ve started a (‘nother) kitchen board on pinterest, where I am just pinning kitchens that I can see myself wanting to cook in. And trying to put my finger on what they have in common. My other boards I was pinning stuff I thought looked pretty. Or stuff I thought I could do to my current space. But this board is basically a mood searching space. What makes me feel motivated in a kitchen? I’m trying to figure it out. This once again isn’t something I plan on getting done in my house anytime soon. I don’t know if I can prime the cabinets while pregnant (oil based primer is best, and it’s too smelly) and I know I won’t have time with a baby. But I like starting the search now to understand my vibe. And I’d like to make sure I really have a handle on it for the day way down the road (I’m thinkin like 10 years -- because I don’t wanna deal with the mess yet) when we really really redo the kitchen. (Remove that wall, reconfigure things.)

So yeah, not a ton is happening in the house yet. I still need to get well. But once I do, I’ll be hitting the main bathroom upstairs with some white paint. And I’ll be scrubbing down the last half of the hallway up there -- getting the rest of the wallpaper goop off. And the painting that. Then we will move onto anything else. Like navy blue living room. And I have all these closet makeover dreams. I’d like to get the coat closet figured out and tackled before baby.


So there’s my week.
I hope this week 12 proves to get me out of the woods. But I nervous after last night. Wish me luck!