Thursday, April 17, 2014

Unrelated to anything else

Almost everyone knows about Elfina as of today. I gave up on waiting to see about my review and potential promotion. I have a pile of projects that need doing by August and if I need to also train a replacement, well, it will mean a lot of extra work.

I had this totally unexpected reaction to telling the family. It wasn't the actually telling of the family as much as my Clueless in-laws deciding to say that they could tell I had a baby bump. Which is probably something someone at 13 ish weeks wouldn't be offended by. It also turns out that the Mr. was grilled by his family as he went to his grandmother's funeral. They asked blatantly about whether I was pregnant.

So, yeah, I am, and yes, if you can look past the 10 lbs I already gained that is a GUT and not baby, one should not be offended by innocent speculation. Except, the whole, they have accused us of being pregnant when we weren't, or were, or all of a sudden weren't (as in lost the baby a week before). So saying you KNEW I was pregnant amounts to hogwash. My reaction was just a pent up frustration over dealing with being pregnant and not pregnant for so long and the grudge I seemingly carry over said years. RPL emotional whiplash, if you will.

More soon. I swear. This winter sucked in unimaginable ways. The whole thaw and freeze cycle of this last week was especially cruel. We were spared the snow. Which was the only saving grace. 

Spring is long overdue.

Sunday, March 30, 2014


Yes, our Elf is in fact Elfina. A sister for E. The scan went well. There was a few stressful minutes when the tech had trouble getting heart pictures. The MFM doc who reviewed our scan told us everything was on track and normal.

Being older means more monitoring. Mores scans ahead and the usual Non-stress tests. I find the care reassuring, even if I may complain about how big of a hassle it is to drive to appointments twice a week.

The majority if immediate family finally knows. The Mr. told his mom. I did try to sway him, to no avail.

My work does not know. I don't gave much of a plan to tell them. I can't figure out what I'll be doing with that just yet.

We have about six weeks to find a house we can buy. I have a cold that has me in the ER. (Coughing has turned into something frightful that I can't endure until my doctor is available on Monday.)

I promise more soon. The family response was, interesting. E is such a big girl these days. Singing, laughing, throwing tremendous tantrums, and just a gift overall. Her hair continues to not really grow in. I entertain myself with the idea of one day getting to do cute braids and curls. Most attempts at doing her hair are thwarted by a quick undoing by the little miss. You'll enjoy my handiwork in the meantime.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Still here

19 weeks tomorrow. Scan next week.

I had read on a blog that I won't link to about blathering on about the pain of infertility not going away after you have a baby. Her point was that for her it did go away. I felt weird for thinking that for me it did not. It's been on my mind lots and I can't figure it out.

Except, it wasn't really the pain of infertility I experienced. Yes, having a baby is a salve to the wound of not having children. Of course it is. For me, the pain was more that I just felt eternally behind. I watched almost everyone have kids, pair off in happy places of parenting, whilst I lived a carefree life of unattachedness. I've been examining the parts that still hurt, even if it makes no sense from a logical perspective.

The Mr.'s grandmother passed away this week. We had gone to CA to see her last month. It was a sweet goodbye for us all. E would run and kiss her great-grandma and anoint her with Elmo stickers as we chatted with her each day of our visit. He'll head out to see family and attend the funeral. E and I will watch movies, do hair, and get our nails done. Or whatever the 2-year-old equivalent is of that. Likely reading Cat in the Hat (aka homeless usurper arriving unbidden) and throwing back some fortified whole milk while discussing the new habit of verb conjugation.

"E eat."
"Mama eating."

Yes, there are whole days where I am simply amazed at the luxury of being blessed with this funny, sweet, and smart kid. I feel the flutter of Elf and count myself a very lucky 41-year-old. There's a little mourning of the life I thought I'd have. In lots of way, the life I have is much, much better.

I did some job hunting and lined up interviews. I know I'm insane. Please tell me any stories of anyone you know who is wildly successful changing jobs in her second trimester only to come back from a few months off to have a baby and be an international super star. I had the great advice to just ask my current job to make an OBVIOUS title change and the salary adjustment that entails. Her words were, "if you were a dude, you would have already done this." True. But uncomfortable to say all that without an exit strategy. Funny when you think that I would happily demand that if I had an offer in hand to say, "do it or else I leave."

Okay back to the messy thoughts and chaos of day to day life. I'm a bad commenter and am apologizing upfront for just not being with it lately. Spring is here. I feel tons better from my last post. More soon, I promise.

Friday, March 7, 2014


I am on the cusp of 17 weeks with Elf and I can count the people who know outside of the interwebs boldness on one hand. I promised myself that I'd embrace a second pregnancy in the T2 world with heart and soul. I said to myself that we'd start to tell people after 12 weeks. That came and went. I am now looking towards 20 weeks with more optimism.

Work. Major changes went down in the last few weeks. A few folks junior to me were pushed up the ladder all of a sudden. The title changes had nothing to do with performance, but more from the strategic short-term goals. It looked good on paper for this part of our business. The outcome of all the changes means my department of 8 is now down to 3 people. Funny thing is that one of the three is 4 weeks MORE pregnant than I am and everyone knows she's leaving on maternity leave. (Something I am thrilled about being that I told her she was pregnant before she fact, it was my stubborn belief that made me send her the internet cheapies to prove said fact. A hard won pregnancy if ever there was one.)

I know you aren't supposed to discriminate against pregnant ladies, but it's kinda hard to prove unless it's obvious. I'm long overdue for a few things. I don't plan on telling work until I know exactly how promotion/raise season plays out. I have already made up my mind to make a go solo. Perhaps the insult of being passed over and ignored (driving the largest $ for the company ever in it's history) will make it happen.

I do know any promotion is out at this point. When I don't get a raise, it will be a wonderful time to let them know that I will also be on maternity leave and that our department of 3 will be 2 in July and 1 in August. Hiring someone to manage just those 3 months I'm out will cost them around 40% more in salary.

Life. I turned 41 last week. The Mr. and I indulged in fancy lunch out and sorta confronted the emotional wake of Winter's fury. We are both just depressed. Me? The hope/fear of pregnancy working out, acknowledging 3 years of excellent work without recognition, and dealing with being stuck indoors with a toddler for weeks on end. The pressure to just keep the house functioning sucks sometimes. Planning meals, getting house shit done, and not falling behind in work takes a toll. Not that I don't have some "me" time in there. It's just too much all of a sudden. Mr.? Winter, job dissatisfaction, lack of living in California, still not having many friends, not finding a house, to name just a few... We are working ourselves out of this. My only plan has been to find one thing each week that makes us happy. Each of us.

Family. SIL's birthday is 4 days before mine. Her daughter, my niece is 1 day before mine. My brother-in-law was a close friend before I met the Mr (his brother). He's known me for 18 years and went drinking with me on my 23rd, 24th, 25th and 26th birthday. The Mr. even reminded him two days before my birthday. You know they forgot, right? They wouldn't be called Clueless otherwise.

The revelation for me is that I'm no longer really irritated by them forgetting. Outside of their world, we don't exist. The visit to see family in the Bay Area proved how very alone we were even when we were close back there. We spent a week at MIL's house to spend time with the Mr.'s Nonna. 94 and looking like she wont' make it to Spring. We were an hour away from his brother and they didn't bother to come out to see us. Rather, we made the trip in to see them for 3 hours and come home. The Mr.'s depression was aided by the realization of how one-way his family can be. We lived 30 minutes from his brother for 6 years and he visited us 4 times. The effort of being family fell to us to the lifting. They enjoyed help from us for parties, moving, and random things, but only once did they help us with something urgent. When we moved, we called our good friends. Family wasn't worth the hassle.

The thing is that my MIL is always setting someone up to teach them a lesson. She's going to expect you to help with dishes and wait for you to see what you do. When you don't, she'll let you know she's disappointed. The Clueless's forgetting my birthday is a great example. She loves that shit. But, I don't want to be bitter for things people do or don't do. I remember my SIL's birthday because I like it when a few thoughtful folks genuinely care to remember. It's super flattering. Do I need everyone to? No. If I did, you'd find it on Facebook. The people that matter remember. My mom, dad, sister, husband, and a few close old friends. It's a blessing of abundance, really.

SIL sent around a note to let everyone know that her 10-week scan showed just the one baby with two arms and legs. My pregnancy has been largely symptom free, and hers has not. I know Elf is fine, but without some daily burden like nausea or headaches, I feel more the fraud. Mrs. Clueless is well on the far end of the other spectrum. Her pregnancy is an ordeal. The week they couldn't see us was because she was falling apart with anxiety and lack of sleep. This combined with really awful morning sickness made her a mess. I found myself uniquely unsympathetic. Which made me feel like a huge bitch.

Why no sympathy? It's because my pregnancies were all so hard won and most were hard lost. My attitude is that I would embrace throwing up and not sleeping the way that many of the ladies here have. When someone tells you what an ORDEAL a pregnancy is and how hard it will be to get through it, you find yourself thinking that the ORDEAL is really not being pregnant when your heart and soul yearns for that baby for years. The ORDEAL is going through some or all of those awful weeks and losing that wanted, needed child too soon. So forgive me if I feel that being pregnant isn't so hard at all in my contextual view. Yada, yada, pain olympics first place medal, blah, non-judgemental yet very judgy judgy stick does come out now and then.

Yes. Universe, thank you for the cover of a vocal, needy pregnant lady to distract the Mr.'s family. Please let me find the right balance to tell the family without pissing them off by telling them later than they would like. Let me not care how offended they will all be by hoarding our secret just that much longer.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014


Elf: 14 weeks and testing is showing all normal things.

Our flight to California was timed well to miss the foot and a half of snow that fell last week. We look like the rest of our snowtrodden neighbors at this point. Exhausted. Eff you winter.

A week with the MIL from hell went better than expected. I don't take the crap I used to and ignored her ignoring boundaries. So. Much. She expected us to enjoy our trip to the far reaches of civilization. What she didn't expect is us complaining about being locked out of her development by a security GATE at 6 AM as we returned from early (early) morning east coast time coffee.

"With all those workers (meaning Mexicans), you can't be too safe."

I will spare everyone my rant on alarm systems and gates locking in occupants as much as locking out criminals. On the plus side, they kept the open door chime on and had to be woken up as E went inside and outside a dozen times each morning chasing kitties and sunrises.

Speaking of...E had a blast in the 70 degree weather. She had a chance to rediscover toes and elbows and life without 3 layers of clothing. Something everyone needed.

I hid my "a little too big belly" as much as I could. Our family event provided lots of stares towards my middle, which I countered by carrying a half empty glass of wine. We've eaten horribly during the last two months, so most of my middle is just the extra 10 pounds of comfort food.

Oh, yeah, and Clueless sister-in-law is pregnant.

I'll let that sink in.

Seven weeks. Which is really great for us. Why? It means that she is running cover for us. It means that they will be a black hole of attention and we can quietly go about life here without the burden of other people's expectations. Given how badly the MIL behaved during E's first month of life, my aim is to not tell her when I'm due and see how very long we can go before we have to tell her at all. Never sounds pretty awesome right about now.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Medaling in the Winter Slump

I know it's shocking to not have much to say. I just haven't the heart to sit down lately and start typing. The weather sucks. I can count on one hand the days above freezing. I spend time wondering why moving to one of those frosty cold midwestern states never appealed. My guess is that I am not of the stock that can survive endless days of indoor activity. I know my limit now, and that is in the teens. I tried walking outside in below 10 and every bit of exposed skin felt like grated glass and fire. If I weren't watching the real estate madness (insanity really) unfolding in our old CA hood, I would gladly quit this place and trade my thimbleful of water for the copious, gratuitous snowfall.

Elf updates are minimal. I had a quick u/s on Monday with OB where we just saw the heart beating. I'm 11 weeks and change with loads of tests and paperwork ahead of me. Aside from the girls popping from D's to DDD's, I have had NO SYMPTOMS with this pregnancy. It shakes my unsteady enough confidence to mostly seem un-pregnant. Of course, my pants tell a different story.

Injustice is in hitting week 10 only to find my fat pants no longer fit. My ass was bigger by the time I needed maternity wear last time and my reluctance to go out and buy shit is high. My maternity wear doesn't fit and my regular pants don't fit either! Spotting has mostly stopped, so I did manage to find one pair of pants that fit right now.

If I make it into T2, I will need to manage a week's worth of gut hiding wear to pass staying with the MIL and being at the office in the fleshy belly flesh. I can manage some loose shapewear to work, but dealing with the above belly (I call it the ghost of the last pregnancy) not blending with the below belly for extended periods will suck. The space between the distinct bellies (otherwise known as a "waist") is losing ground daily. I don't look pregnant at all, but in the right light, I could be mistaken for at 5 months. I thought it would be so much easier the second time around, that I'd be embracing the glory of a pregnant self. Funny.

Each day's mantra is to just make it another day with hope for Elf. The Mr. and I are strange, terrified, occupied and preoccupied. E is gaining words at a frightful clip and hopefully not noticing how very odd her parents seem right now. When I feel overwhelmed by lots of it, I can always re-center right at toddler eye level.

House hunting, terrified pregnanting, distracted parenting, and warm keeping are our winter olympics so far.

Friday, January 17, 2014


Just a note to say still spotting. Proceeding as if this is new normal. Not worse bleeding, not obvious SCH to identify. On the plus side, I have a small consult with a MFM and a scan with OB next week.

Sorta wish I still had my Doppler.

Ten weeks tomorrow. On the edge, still. Between making plans for next month and the rest of our lives. It is a long climb to fall from this point. My hope is to just hang on and celebrate every week that this continues to progress. I'm off the usual pattern, but not one for being on the better side of the odds.