Naming

Talking about her name insights more real excitement than most other conversations that I can have about this life brewing inside me.  It's a piece of her that can exist outside of myself.  I can say it out loud and it will be that same name when she is born.  It's as if I can have a piece of her now that can be shown and shared, like maybe I am already getting to know her a bit.
Naming her also makes her inevitable presence in our life more real.  She's not just a phantom idea or a big 'ol belly.  It allows her to take up space.  It allows us to get used to her a bit before her scrunched up face becomes all we want to look at for awhile.

Rosanna's first moments

Musings from behind the belly

I seem to have more value to the general public when I am pregnant.

I'm sure you (others who have come before me) have had this same experience, it never fails to amuse me.  In large part, I gladly accept the extra fawning and added care taken to accommodate my blossoming self.  Other times I just think it's silly and weird.

Early the other morning, as I walked up the street to meet a friend to go for a walk, a gentleman (who knows me) asked what I was doing out "in my condition".  I smiled and told him I had to, "keep this body movin'!" and as I continued on my way thought, well what the heck am I supposed to do?  Stay indoors?

Another time I was working (a job that essentially requires me to sit and wait for people to make a purchase) and asI went to stand and add up a lady's treasures, she was horrified that her actions were making me have to move.  Note to world: pregnant does not equal crippled.  I can, and appreciate, and opportunity to move about and get my blood moving around.  If I didn't, it certainly isn't *insert customer here*'s fault that I am choosing to work and therefore must stand up and punch numbers on a calculator.

I've noticed too that pregnant ladies are nearly on the level with saints as a virtue of being pregnant.  I get smiles and high quality courtesy that doesn't exist as a woman with a baby in the breathing world.  I can do no wrong and all of my woes are of extreme importance to passersby.  If only this love extended beyond the belly and into the (in my opinion) more challenging realm of hauling that sucker around manually.

'Tis a funny world :)

Emotional vomit

It's either pregnancy or I'm just a bummer.

I feel on the verge of crying half the time and I have to talk myself into being patient with Rosanna like it's a chore.  I don't want to have the same "I don't want to close my eyes" conversation every freaking night.  Especially when I've never, not once, told her she has to.

Watching her tonight dance around to the music on the credits of a movie I thought to myself, "this won't last forever.  Soon enough she'll be too self-conscious to be silly".  That made me sad.  She was so joyful.  She jumped and flitted and fell and laughed herself into hiccups.

Right now I'm questioning my place in this house.  How much of my responsibility should I expect to shift as a result of my "condition"?  So far it would seem that zero of it will.  Be prepared for this place to become the sty of a pig upon the arrival of #2, I don't really see any way around it.

And on a final random note, how is it so danged warm outside?  I don't own warm-weather maternity clothes and I am certainly not going to go buy any just for a few weeks of my life.  This was an unexpected turn of events and I'd really love it if I could get four more weeks of chill.  Fingers crossed....

Hey body...

Hey body-

Let's just feel normal tomorrow.  I have dishes to do, ironing, laundry and a bathroom that is, well...yuck.  Oh, and that clutter that's building up needs a new home.  So, whaddya say?  Truce?  I wouldn't mind getting a solid night sleep too, if that's not asking too much.  It'd make my trek out the door for a Monday morning walk a lot less difficult.

That is all.

Three wonderful things

Here are three wonderful things that happened today:

1.
At the Zoo, Rosanna's friend fell and was pretty upset for a bit.  Rosanna knew she liked the leaves that had fallen and so picked one up and gave it to her so that she, "could feel better".  I love that my daughter has a heart that thinks and acts in such a loving manner.  I couldn't be a prouder Momma.

2.
I took my second prenatal yoga class.  It's tough.  It's relaxing.  It's an hour and a half!

3.
My kiddo was a hoot at dinner.  She told all the severs at Thai Garden about the crocodile she saw today and cracked herself up each time.  She told elaborate stories and kept up with the conversation at the table.  She ate all of her curry and asked for more.  She said "please" and "thank you" without being prompted.  She's amaze-sauce.

Funny thing

I'm pregnant, so you're gonna get a pregnant blog.  Yet, I'm not really in the 'pregnant body' mind set.  My body's not messing around though.  The belly is big, the veins are gnarly, the sciatic is mean.  I make grunting noises when I get up and walking up a slight incline induces labored breathing.  I know I'm pregnant, I know what sort of allowances pregnant bodies should get and yet I don't put myself in that category.  It's time to start.
I'm dead tired at the end of the day.  I sit there and think, "What did I do today to warrant such tiredness?".  Well, duh.  My body is simply doing the impossible: growing another life.  No biggie though, carry on as usual.
Except don't!  I'm ready to accept the realities of my situation: I need a break.  I will sit down more; I will not chastise myself for the few things I accomplished in a day.  I will say to myself, "Good job!  You carried life today!".  Granted, there are a few commitments in my future that are going to require me to step it up and give it all (not like, half-marathon style).  I'll just have to muscle through those few days.  And there won't be any more added to the plate.
You hear that, self?!  No more!  Just chill, K?

Woes of two

Have I been pregnant forever?  No?  Only 16 weeks?  Are you certain?

I am 16 weeks pregnant.  I've lost 20 pounds and gained back 4.  I no longer feel wretched in every moment, hence the 4 pound gain.  Hooray!!  My eating habits are still highly suspicious.  My food aversions include almost everything.  At least it seems that way sometimes.  I've given up being vegan for now.  Everything I ate pre-prego gives me the heaves.  The new game plan: be as vegan as my appetite allows.  I've gotta say this is a huge relief.  I still won't be eating meat.  For the most part this has meant allowing for cheese.  Also some baked goodies which almost always means eggs and butter were used.  Have I noticed a difference?  You bet!  Adding dairy back in after 8 months clean has meant gas pains, feeling grossly full and phlegm.  Awesome, right?!

Then there's this other kid.  The "original" O'Hagan family addition.  Did you know that she's 2 years old?  The age of 2 is as glorious as it is stupefying and maddening.  She's undeniably brilliant.  She wants to sign everything, including letters.  She asks thoughtful questions, she's observant in ways that I hadn't considered and is on a quest, it seems, to conquer the world and make it her friend.  I mean really, try and not be this kid's friend.
She also ask questions.  Those questions lead to more questions.  Which opens up another line of questioning.  In my less proud mommy moments I have been heard saying, "OK!  Let's be done now!  I don't know!" while the cauldron of impatience is writhing and seething and verging on a really unbecoming breakdown.
She also has mind numbing mood swings.  We're talking: happily chatting away, traumatizing meltdown, resumes chatting...all within 60 seconds.  Ethan and I just look at each other, a mixture of, "Did that really just happen?" and, "I can't mentally deal with this sort of insanity" emanating from our eyes.
Then there's the testing.  We are no longer newbies at using the 'time-out'.  In some of her more insightful moments she actually chooses a time-out.  Almost like she gets that she can't handle life in that moment and needs to sit just quietly for a moment (did you get that "Ferdinand" reference?).

Parenting is a real treat.  So much joy and so much stress in each day.  The emotional output is intense!   It's no wonder I'm exhausted by 7pm everyday.

It's a trip, man.

Lament

This part of the process is the worst.

"We did do this on purpose" I tell myself.  Repeatedly.  I think it would be less awful if I didn't have to entertain a two year old.  I feel guilty that I want all of our play time to be couch-centric, that way I can be either sitting or lying down.  I'm pretty good at coloring from the couch, block building and ball rolling are good ones too.  A two year old wants to frolic, however, and that is most definitely not a possibility.  I hear myself saying, "I can't", or "Go ahead and do it on your own" and I get a little sick inside.  How can I possibly explain it to her?  The blessed thing hasn't even complained that I'm dud lately.  She even asks if I feel sick.

Then there's the cat who can't get enough of me.  Walking across my tender chest in an effort to breathe in my same air, because curling at my hip just isn't close enough.  For a girl who's in a scent-sensitive state, cat breath ain't always what I want coating my nostrils.  I toss my beloved fur ball from my space over and over and over again.  She's the epitome of cool, calm persistence.  Unfazed.  Still purring like I've invited her to become a part of me forever and she couldn't be happier.

Rosanna's elbows are becoming an issue too.  Why are they so pokey?  Why are they always in my uterus?  In a boob?  The kid has no sense of her impact on other's bodies with her own.

Lastly, all my hair is falling out.  It's extraordinary, really.  Gobs of hair each time I shower or brush it.  I remember reading that exactly the opposite is supposed to be happening right now.  Not cool, body.  I also used to be able to wash my hair every-other day and not look like a hobo, now I'm sporting vagrant quality greasiness within hours.  Ugh.  My body odor is changing too.  Time to increase the power level on my deodorant.

That might be the end of my list of complaints.  Oh, wait.  I forgot the dishes that stay in the sink for days and the bathroom that desperately needs to be cleaned.  I'm over having my face in the toilet and ready to re-establish my old habits as a buns-only zone.

Phew.

I want

When I start to tell my man what sort of birth I want, he gets a bit eye rolly.  I see him shut down a bit and start to dismiss the conversation I haven't even begun to have.  I think he thinks I am swayed by the recent popularity of home births among our friends.  He's right.

I never wanted a home birth.  In fact, I am not sure that I do even now.  I would like to feel less alone, however.  While laboring with Rosanna, I moaned and winced through the wee morning hours.  Nurses would come in occasionally to gawk at the monitor, "So you're the one with the wild baby".  I guess they had been watching my monitor in their area outside of my room, sharing with each other how active my kid was.  Ethan slept (attempted to sleep?).  I felt resentment.  I was doing an extraordinary amount of work, sleeping through wrenching contractions was hardly an option.  It's not as if there was anything he could do.  We could both be exhausted, or one of us could sleep.

And so a big part of my memories from that night are lonely.  And painful.  I really want someone there who has a greater understanding of how to support me.  My husband was likely mortified at my pain, at the prospect of the job ahead.  A mid-wife or doula is what I want.  A woman who can work with my body and guide me through the intensity.  The nurses were useless in this aspect.  To them I was going through the normal process of laboring (which I was), and when it was time to push- that's when it got important.  Until then, I was left to writhe around on my own.

I'm looking for someone to mother me through the experience.  To talk sweetly to me and encourage me while also guiding me forward.  I want this person to know the birthing process as a perfect and awesome experience, not one to be dulled, feared and managed.

Family and a fetus

I really love family reunion time.  It's become even more special since Rosanna is our daughter.  I love sharing our wee-one, showing her off and watching her light up other people's lives like she does ours.  I may as well have birthed a beam of light (although it felt like more).

Family reunion time means seeing people I haven't seen in two years and being with them as if no time had passed.  This year it also meant setting my Rosie free into the wilds of cousin-land to tumble and romp through the grass, throw water balloons, crash legos and play hide-and-seek under a dark sky in the front yard.  This moment of 'letting go' could have been more traumatic for me, but the awesomeness of my family prevailed.  The other kiddos are much older than her, old enough that making space for a two year old during rough play (lots of boys) might have been annoying.  But they were amazing.  They slowed to show her the art of filling water balloons, they stood close enough to let her hit them with one, they were fabulous examples of kindness and love.  I was so touched.

It was perfect and tough to see my grandpa.  He is getting frailer each time I see him and it becomes more difficult to be in a conversation as he slows.  I do my best to avoid thinking of what the end game is.  I overhear my grandma talking about how she can't imagine what that will be like, how utterly incomprehensible it is.  I am so thankful each time I get to hug on him.

After our family beach day, when we were all home, showered and admiring each other's sunburns, I made a discovery that's been a month in the making (we work fast): I'm pregnant.  We told my aunt, uncle and cousin first since that's how it went down last time.  Silly tradition, and it was neat to be with them the day we found out again.  Then we, of course, told everyone else.

This was a momentary stall, however.  We are a bit spooked in the department of getting excited, last time was such a let down.  However, if something goes awry and we didn't tell anyone, then we'd be suffering alone.  I'm not good at hiding.  People can get a pretty good read on me just to look at my face.  And who wants to suffer alone?  So now you know.  We're not expecting the worst, and we're quiet in our happiness.

On a related note- I couldn't be more thankful that the last pregnancy didn't work out.  I'd have an infant right now, and I think that would be a bit too overwhelming.  Rosanna still is needy enough to deserve all of me.  When she's three (when this baby is due) I imagine she'll have pushed away even more and the spacing will be perfect.