pending person

So, I’m pregnant. Here is a small person who lives inside of me and steals all of my ice cream:

It’s almost two years exactly now since I miscarried a previous pregnancy. Being pregnant again has not made the strangeness or sadness of that go away. I still think about it regularly and it still has this influencing voice of “sometimes things go wrong.”

In the meantime, things seem to have been going rather uneventfully with his one, despite all of my high riskiness. I’m 38, overweight, and there’s still that MS thing lurking around, but I’ve been really lucky so far. I never had much morning sickness and I certainly never threw up. I don’t have gestational diabetes. I occasionally get heart burn, but it’s not persistent. My biggest challenge or complaint really is just a lack of sleeping.

Only six weeks left to go (until the due date, anyway) and it definitely now feels like something that is coming soon, not like something in the <shrug> “later” category. We went to a birthing class, four Tuesday evening’s worth. It was rather horrifying, but I suppose they were horrors worth being aware of. And it did solidify for me that I just don’t know what I don’t know. I don’t know how much pain I can tolerate. I don’t know what kind of encouragement will help me. So I don’t have a birth plan, or even want to have one. I’ll try to have an open mind and just do the best I can.

I worry about getting things done before she’s here. About how we’ll get through the first few weeks and months. About how we’ll pay for child care once we have to go back to work. How the dogs will cope. And how we’ll pay for a dog walker, too…

I don’t have the feelings of smug pride or earth mother-y amazement that other people seem to. I haven’t indignantly asked anyone to give me a seat on the train. I would not describe it as “exciting.” I feel daunted and unsure of how to prepare… will the baby be a terrible sleeper or refuse to breast feed? Will she be ok? There’s no telling what she’ll do, so we can only consider and hope for the best. And try to tune out all of the advice and The Tales of the Baby Who….

Amidst all of the baby tales and the no one every told me stories, I actually feel like I’ve heard it all. Maybe because the entirety of my generation (and some of the follow-up generations, too) has already done their procreating? It seems like people talk about it all the time. Sometimes even brag about it. Every possible terrible thing that supposedly no one ever talks about, someone, or the internet, has talked to me about it. Fingers crossed, I don’t experience some brand new terror, heretofore unmentioned in the so-brave confessions of new mommydom.

And somewhere underneath all of the worry and doubt and dismay that I will never go see another movie ever again, I am incredibly curious about this person. What she’ll look like and be like and what loving her will feel like.

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this is where the lisa congdon piece goes

We got this piece from Lisa in November and I still can’t get over how much I love it.IMG_4074.JPGThe colors are so good and fun and feels so perfectly at home in our living room.

We dog-sat Wilfredo earlier in the year and this piece was our trade for that. Although, watching Wilfredo was really such a treat that we decided we needed to get pups of our own, so that should have been reward enough.
(Topic for another day:  how much Wilfredo is not like our two rambunctious monster-puppies.)

She also officiated our wedding, so it feels a bit like we have a piece of Lisa looking over us, reminding us to celebrate love.

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another day

It seems like I can’t write about anything else, until I finish (or even just start) writing about this.

This, this thing that happened, or didn’t happen. Months ago. On Mother’s Day, at 12 weeks pregnant, I miscarried a baby that would have been due today.

It seems like a long time ago now. I remember crying a lot. After a few weeks, I could talk to people and tell them about what happened, without tears. I don’t think about it every day. Although, the constant stream of new babies and pregnant bellies around me have been a regular reminder. I can’t look at Facebook without feeling sad and angry and jealous and guilty for feeling sad and angry and jealous.
Most of the time, it doesn’t hurt any more. I don’t always remember. This month has been a bit tougher. What might have been feels very sharp, right now. Today.

The David didn’t remember about today, about the due date, and I don’t think he’s sad for the lost baby anymore. But he does feel sad, in a more general way, when he considers the possibility that we may end up not being parents at all. It is a strange pill to swallow—imagining what a whole life looks like without a family.

It seems like a real possibility, at 37-years-old, but not a certainty. The not-knowing is hard.

I’d like to think that tomorrow, I’ll have crossed a line in the sand. I lived through the due date. A switch will be flipped and it just won’t be sad. But I’m afraid that it will continue to be unless there’s a new baby. Which makes the not-knowing even scarier.

I hope we get through it, whatever it is. Seems like we probably will. The days keep passing. And while it doesn’t heal all wounds, time does take the edge off.

 

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recently read

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The Invisible Bridge
On the one hand, this is the story of the author’s grandparents, Hungarian Jews during the holocaust. How can you criticize?
On the other hand, it’s an overwrought romance followed by tedious suffering-through-war times.

The Husband’s Secret
Entertaining, easy read. Fluff, but on the good end of fluff. Same author as What Alice Forgot.

A Natural History of Dragons
I thought that I would love this, but I sort of didn’t. It was more of a mystery than it was a fantasy, with dragons. And the narrator was a bit heavy-handed in her explaining to me just how smart and forward thinking she was. Halfway through it, I started regretting my rec to LZ, but apparently, she liked it!

 

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end of an era

my last day at blurb is this friday.

in the tech world, people stick around for 18 months before moving on to the next big thing and the next bigger paycheck. but not me. i linger on. i fall in love with the people and the place, i wallow in being comfortable, and i just keep on being there.

but i’ve known that i should expand my experiences and portfolio and that san francisco in 2014 is the wrong place and time to plan for a lifetime with one company. so i put out feelers every once in a while, and the last feeler just took hold. i’m starting at a new job on the 7th.

even if i end up hating it, which i doubt, i feel confident that going through the process of change and exploration was the right thing to do. but it is hurting an awful lot to make the exit from this place and the people.

so long and thanks for all the photo booths.

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and also this happened

A photo posted by radiopadraic (@radiopadraic) on

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lost weight loss

i am really, really good at losing 30 pounds. but only in between bouts of my true talent: gaining 30 pounds.

once again, i’ve hit that critical mass that spurs me to horror and a rueful determination to change my ways.

but, a lot has changed since the last time i was in weight loss mode and i have some things to figure out. the most impactful:  we moved. i used to live a five minute walk away from a gold’s gym, where i logged most of my running hours on the treadmill. on the weekends, i ran the 3.2 mile path around lake merritt.

but we moved to a new house and got married, all in the same month, so my workout habit fell apart in july of last year, as wedding plans ramped up. we did a friends+family 5k run around the lake the morning of our wedding, and that was the first time i had done any running in a long time. and the last.

photo by Ali Carras

after the hannavance 5k wedding day run, photo by Ali Carras

after the wedding, i spent some time just generally slacking off and being relieved to be human again. some time turned into a few months and then i sprained my ankle pretty badly at the end of october. any working out that i had been doing came to a complete stand still.

my weight watchers membership fee mocked me every month.

as is my way, the lack of exercise led to terrible/wonderful gluttony in my eating habits and the fatness just kept coming.

my tolerance for out-fatting 98% of my wardrobe stretched a bit too thin, and here we are. but no gold’s gym and no lake.

so i’ve been taking classes at a spinning studio (that is close by, but i have to drive to). it’s too pricey to do all the time, but is probably a good twice a week option. there’s a boot camp kind of thing super close by, and i’m signed up to try that out for a month, with a groupon.

i should try to get back into some running, but i’m scared. scared of all the progress lost and how hard it will be. and just dragging my feet on the idea of running without the convenience of a park and foot path.

but the bits that i am doing are helping me feel motivated to do more and are inspiring my eating habits.

which all means that i’m back to thinking and doing a lot about food and exercise and that means that it’s bubbling up here, too.

again. shrug!

 

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Filed under Chubby girl, I'll be up in the gym

chicks, two weeks later

two-week old chicks

the welsummer, easter egger, jersey giant, exchequer leghorn one and two, and the wyandotte.

Six little chickens, growing up so fast!

The chicks, at just over two weeks old, are no longer little fluff balls of peep. They look more like scraggly wrens or sparrows or birds that live in trees and fly around.

We haven’t named them yet, although we’ve bandied some options around. Like Mrs Weasley and Professor McGonagall. But since they’re all different breeds (except for the two leghorns), we’re slacking on that opportunity for naming twee-dom.

two-week old easter egger chick

the easter egger, up close

They are quite skittish and get very alarmed as soon as they’re aware that we are looming. So we haven’t manage to tame them into proper pets. Once you’ve caught one, they’re generally docile and seem happy to sit with you and snooze. It’s quite pleasant to have a little bird in your lap, although poop does happen on the regular.

Feathers are coming in like crazy. First on their wings, and then little tails. The rest of their bodies are getting a bit scrotty-looking as they transition from downy fluff to feathers.

two-week old easter egger

wings with feathers!

They are very busy scratching and kicking up and rustling about in their pine shavings, which means we are very busy changing their water, at least twice a day. They’re supposed to be kept around 85 degrees (down from the 95 degrees of their first week of life). Who knows if we’re managing that, but so far, they’re all alive. The pea pod shells I offered them were treated like hysteria-inducing alien intruders. Until they forgot that they were there and then they just walked around on top of them.

Another two, maybe three weeks, before they get to move outside to the coop. Which the David is building himself, with a plan he’s devised himself. Which has been, let’s just say, a learning experience.

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