Deja TRUE

I was going back through some old blog posts last night and I came upon THIS ** Please note the date of that post** (A year and a day later Aaron and I were married AND I found out almost three years later [to the day] that I was pregnant. Weird!)

Oh. my. God! Honestly, in 2008 I didn't even *really* want kids. Well, okay, for the majority of my life I NEVER wanted kids. Ever. I never believed in a biological clock. I believed the concept of a biological clock was created by a resentful woman because she had a kid and wanted to pretend some larger primal force instilled this unyielding desire to produce offspring further contributing to an already over-populated society. (Not that I gave this a great deal of thought...wink) Now, I know that sounds horrendously judgmental. So, please allow me to cancel out that nasty false insight by saying, out loud, "I DO believe in biological clocks, I do believe in biological clocks. I was SO wrong!"

Alas, I digress. Where was I? Oh, yes... rewind to my anti-child campaign. I had no interest in having a child. They required you to prioritize. They came with all these accessories and paraphernalia. They needed things like a room, money and attention.

Then...

I met Aaron and I wanted to carry the fruit of his loins in my womb (okay, that sounds so gross, but I've always wanted to put that phrase in print; this seemed like the only opportunity I'd get. Frankly, looking back at that sentence, it was anti-climatic). So, in 2008, I began to suspect there *might* be some truth to the concept of a biological clock. Mine was ticking... ever so softly. Like this:

Then... we got married; arguably the BEST day of my life (so far, obviously). I settled into my career, we bought a house and my clock picked up the pace and pumped up the volume. It was more like this:

Then, I got my clinical licenses, we became more comfortable (the good comfortable) in every aspect of our adult lives, marriage, and careers. So, logically, the clock I was once in utter disbelief even existed, began to deafen me. Kind of like this:

At my last doctor appointment they asked me the same questions they ask me every week, except they slipped in a new one:

"What are your plans for birth control after your son is born?"

Um, what? Obviously I've been clean from contraception for so long that I completely forgot this could happen again. Automatically, when I heard the words "birth control AFTER your son is born" this came to my mind:

Then, I pictured Aaron's biological clock, which looks something like this:

And I figured I better take the question seriously.

So, long story short. Fast forward from that original post from over three years ago. There is some truth to it. As of late, I'm barefoot because none of my shoes fit my swollen feet, in the kitchen because I'm always hungry (day dreaming that I can even eat any of the food in it) AND I am hiding Aaron's baby inside my womb (although, at 34+ weeks pregnant, there's no hiding it).

Lastly, I do believe in biological clocks, I do, I do, I do!

The grass is indeed greener

It was a big decision for our family when I decided it was time for me to leave the large agency I was working at. It meant going from a job that provided benefits and stability (sick time,vacation time, short-term-disability, and A SALARY) to going "willie-nillie" and basically being in business with myself, getting paid per client.

Kind of.

So, how it works: I am part of a private group practice. The practice is owned by two doctors who oversee the process (one of the doctors I refer to as "my boss"). They hire who they feel would be a great additions to our practice; meriting the reputation that has been built over the past 20+ years.

When I started to loath going to work, I began to look for new positions; I saw this job online and I applied for it. On paper, I'm highly qualified, however, I think it's natural to be suspicious of a twenty something (at the time) who wants to go into the private arena of psychology/therapy. Once I had more information after talking to "my boss" over the phone, I honestly thought, "There is NO WAY they are going to hire a 29-year-old freshly licensed (although, dually licensed) clinician." But, hey, what did I have to lose? I went in for an interview anyway and it was 2 hours long! I left feeling pretty good about what I had to offer (and vice-versa). A couple of weeks later they called me back to hold a clinical case presentation for the 6 doctors and 2 master level clinicians working at the practice. That was scary!

However, being the consummate optimist I thought, "If nothing else, I'll at least have thrown my hat in the ring and put myself out there; toe-to-toe with seasoned DOCTORS." I left feeling okay after that. I was a little concerned because I would be the youngest clinician there... by a SIGNIFICANT number of years. I just felt really... novice.

I shouldn't have worried. They loved me. They hired me immediately. I know my shit, people. ;)

Once I committed to taking the job, I feared there would be a catch. There were SO many things I loved about the work I was already doing and the agency I was working for. I was definitely getting cold feet. Something had to be too good to be true. I make my own hours. I decide who I want (and don't want) to see. I wear what I want. I have free consultation provided to me (yes, I lose a percentage of the money I bring in but, it's certainly a fair percentage for what they provide for me). There had to be something!! As I approach my year anniversary there, the only catch I have found thus far is that I don't get sick or vacation time; I'm not a salaried employee.

Recently, I was offered another opportunity (an amazing opportunity) to expand a new program within our group, with the support of my boss (he has so much faith in me!!) I feel like a Golden Goose!  In our discussions about this "project" his biggest concern was how he could recognize if I was getting burnt out, or if I was getting enough time with my family/baby should I decide to take the opportunity he presented me with.

Are you kidding me? I'll still only be working 3 days per week, doing what I love, and adding a component of having staff to clinically supervise. (Something I mostly gave up when I left my last job- [I still clinically supervise one person from my former agency.]) This peice was something I missed very much. I won't have to work too much harder (maybe a bit of sweat equity to outreach to the masses about our new services) but other than that... not much. I already have a great referral base and have one person hired with another interview scheduled for the beginning of May. This is really happening!!

So, over maternity leave, I won't have to work for 2 months but, when I return I'm starting a substance abuse program. I have a whole suite (with 3 offices) to furnish with my fine decorating style and ability to hire good clinicians. It's very exciting. Further, I have the support of an amazing "boss", mentor, and Doctor if I get stuck, (or tired.)

Recently, when I was listing off some of the things I wanted to accomplish over maternity leave, he said, "If you try to work during your maternity leave, I'll fire you." Now, keep in mind he was kidding because he doesn't pay for my maternity but, he "has my number" and he set a boundary for me because y'all know about my dysfunctional relationship with work. He's one of those wise old-school psychologists who can pretty much read your mind so he's not letting me slack in the self-care department. I need someone like that. I need that kind of discipline. It was nice to feel as though he valued my happiness more than the golden egg I lay.

Today, I had to cancel all my clients because of a pregnancy related issue (don't worry, all is fine with Mom and Baby.) Even the concept of calling out is different when you're in private practice. I call my clients. I don't need to call anyone else. I don't have to check with a supervisor. I don't get paid if I don't work so nobody really cares when I'm there or not. That took SO MUCH pressure off my decision to take care of myself today.

I hit the jackpot with this job and I am so grateful.

There's no point in arguing

My husband appreciates everything I do. Now that I'm pregnant he makes it a point to thank me for the little things I've always done that he never realized I did... until I got pregnant and he had to pick up some of the slack. Now, don't get me wrong, my husband is FAR from lazy. He does more than I can even imagine. We just have a different list of "chores" as I'm sure most couples do. For instance, I have absolutely no desire to mow the lawn as I'm sure he'd rather not clean toilets.

The other day, as we were getting ready to go out to dinner, (and I had been cleaning and doing laundry all day) he calls me into the bedroom where he's putting on his socks. This "conversation" takes place:

Aaron: "Hey, Babe? Can you c'mere for a second?"
Jessi: (in the bathroom, doing my hair) "Yep" (walking into the bedroom) "What?"
A: "See these two socks? See how they look exactly alike?"
J: (suspicious) "Yes...."
A: "Well, when you fold them down, one has an orange ring around the top... the other doesn't. See?"
J: (completely on to him now... but feigning as though I just figured out the million dollar question) "Ohhh, so the two that I matched up... they aren't the same!!!" (which I really didn't notice- he has SO MANY pairs of socks!)
A: "Right."
J: (Glaring)
A: (Suddenly fearing for his life) "Never mind. I'm being stupid. Forget I said anything! I'm sorry. Thank you so much for doing all that laundry today."
J: "No problem, Babe!" (smiling) "Glad we had this little talk."

Postcards from the Bump: 33 Weeks

How far along? 33+ Weeks!! It's getting closer and boy it has gone fast!!

Total weight gain/loss: 25.3 pounds. I'm pretty proud of that. I'm continuing to lose weight; I'm not complaining. I know Alien is doing great and he's healthy, so... hey, I'll go along with this whole thing (Because really? Do I even have a choice?)

Baby's size? According to the websites I follow Alien is approximately 4+ pounds and 17+ inches long! He's the heft of a large pineapple. My little man, a pineapple.

Maternity clothes? Yep.

Stretch Marks? NO! Still crossing my fingers.

Sleep: Ugh! Just... ugh.

Best moment this week: Easter with our family was pretty great. I can't wait until Alien comes and he gets his first Easter basket (which I have already bought... personalized... from Pottery Barn Kids.)

Movement: All over; twisting, kicking, punching and turning. There are times when he'll stick out his butt (or something) and it's a really strange sensation.

Food cravings: Avocado, again. I'm back on that kick.

Gender: Still a boy!

Labor Signs: None yet. But, we had our third birthing class last night so I'm learning all about what I should expect.

Belly Button in or out? Out. I've been dreading an "outtie." But, even more than dreading an outtie I've been dreading that pregnancy line (or linea nigra). I don't have that ugly line so, I'll embrace the outtie.

What I miss: Correctly estimating the proximity of my body. I keep knocking my stomach into things because I forget I'm a whale.

What I am looking forward to: Holding my baby boy!

Milestones: I am (most likely) having a baby next month. I can finally say "next month."

Other baby updates? The room is coming along nicely. It's pretty cute if I do say so myself.

 

Update from Planet Alien: At Easter, Uncles Matt & Nelson bought Alien his first Easter outfit. Being true to good fashion they bought him Penguin wear (A designer often worn by Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby). How flipping cute?

 

 

 

Too lazy for a real update...

1) What is your current desktop background?
A glacier... in Alaska... jealous?

2) What is your favorite zoo animal?
Giraffes and elephants. I picked two even though you asked for one. I'm pregnant. I can do that.
I like the alligators too. Ha.

3) What was your favorite toy as a child?
Ohhh, it's a toss up between my pink hug-a-bunch and Teddy Ruxpin

4) What food do you eat too much of?
Lately? Ugh. Peanut butter. It's all protein and on my "approved food list."

5.) What kind of hairstyle do you have?
Shortish, layered, darkest brown

6) What is your favorite activity in gym class?
I used to love calisthenics. "Used to" being the operative words.

7) What is on the shirt you are wearing right now?
Dog hair

8) What is the picture nearest you of?
Xander, he's my mouse pad

9) What kind of salad dressing do you like?

Newman's Own Lite Honey Mustard, unless I'm at a restaurant... then it's Ranch

10) What is your least favorite food?
Weird Cheese

11) What do you do on a Sunday Night?
Usually fold laundry.

12) If you could only use one condiment for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Probably ranch dressing

13) What color are your sheets?

Either cream colored or the ones with sand dollars on them. Both from L.L. Bean (my favorite!)

14) What pair of shoes do you wear most often?
Sanitas, my slippers, and my Toms.

15) What is your favorite game?

Jack Straws

16) What is your favorite Thanksgiving Food?
Squash, Rolls, my mother's stuffing.

17) What is your favorite pizza topping?
MUSHROOMS!

18) What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow?

The usual: 6:00 whether it's a weekday or not. Epic fail.

19) What is your favorite day of the year?
Normally any Wednesday but, I have a distinct feeling it will soon be May 30th-ish.

Rose & Thorn

Gestational Diabetes comes with some risks:

• A large baby
• A baby born with low blood sugar

It also comes with some thorns:

• Very VERY frequent doctors appointments with non stress tests twice per week
• A painful low carb diet
• Testing your blood sugar several times per day
• Timing your eating to the minute

BUT: The best payoff (aside from healthy mom/healthy baby, of course)...

• Weekly ultrasounds!! I get to see my little man on the big screen every week until I meet him! Woot!

That makes me so happy. Normally, you only get about 3 ultrasounds per pregnancy!! If I *had* to find a rose in this diagnosis, it would be 9 ultrasounds!! YAY!

"I got the Diabeetus"

When I was younger I used to LOVE the Liberty Medical commercials with Wilford Brimley warning us to, "check your blood sugar, and check it often. There's just no reason not to." He made diabetes sound manageable, inexpensive, and fun! He made me want to be a diabetic.

Yeah, not so much.

I had a sneaking suspicion that I would end up with gestational diabetes (GD) because I have a significant family history of diabetes. My sister also had diabetes with both of her pregnancies. Now, I didn't lay around in wait for "diabeetus" to rear its ugly head. I was mindful on most occasions about what I put in my mouth but, like many pregnant women, I would have cravings and in a moment of weakness I'd eat an entire sleeve of Oreos and wash it down with a gallon of whole milk. What?

Now, I must preface this with: there wasn't anything I did to CAUSE gestational diabetes. There wasn't anything I could have done to PREVENT gestational diabetes. My doctors told me umpteen times that this wasn't my fault. They did make it very clear, however, that going forward it was my responsibility to maintain GD. I needed to quit the carbs.

Okay, cool. I can live with that. I will do anything to keep myself and my son healthy.

Yeah... not as easy as I thought it was going to be. Here's a news-flash, there are carbs in EVERYTHING!!! Milk, yogurt, and fruit even! Basically I'm allowed to have 12 carb choices per day. Sounds simple, right? Negative. Not simple. 12 carb choices boil down to 180 grams of carbs per day. Need it broken down further? One 8 oz. glass of milk has about 15g carbs in it. As a pregnant woman, I need three milk servings daily... now I have 135 carbs left to spend. I think you're beginning to see it now.

So, I've narrowed it down to things like:
17 grapes.
10 Doritos
2 slices of lite whole wheat bread (that are about the size of a postage stamp)
1/2 of an English muffin
most veggies are "free" and protein is strongly encouraged and doesn't really "count." (I did lose the argument with my nutritionist that even though Reese's peanut butter cups contain protein they do count against me. That conversation was the reason I don't carry a gun or a switchblade. Don't mess with a pregnant lady's peanut butter cups!)

So, gone are slices of drippy, cheesy pizza, fries, cookies, cakes, pasta and everything else that makes me salivate. But, on the bright side, with the exception of unyielding hunger (I think it's purely psychosomatic because I'm consuming the appropriate number of calories for my height, weight, activity level and baby) I feel SO MUCH better. I had NO IDEA how badly I felt until I completely changed my diet and started feeling so much better. And I've lost about 6.5 pounds! I guess that's what happens when you stop eating a gallon of ice cream every night. ;)

It has also raised our awareness as to how disgustingly, we as humans, eat. Our portions are way out of control. Did you know there are 39g of carbs in one can of Coke ? That's a quarter of my daily allowance (I don't drink Coke but that puts it into perspective for you.)

Going forward we are truly going to be more mindful of what we put in our mouth (and what I put in my child's mouth) According to most authorities on the subject, the average child or adult should not consume more than 130g of carbs per day; a cheeseburger happy meal without a drink is 50g of carbs! Holy Wilford Brimley!!

Aaron has been watching what he eats along with me (or he faces the risk of me staring longingly at his food... following his fork from his plate to his mouth like a pathetic dog) and he has even dropped a few pounds. It's really amazing what scaling back on our beloved carbs does to one's weight.

So, for now, I'm checking my blood sugar, and checking it often. I'm pretty proud to say that since my diagnosis I haven't "cheated" once and have been trying my darnedest to maintain my blood sugar; I really don't want to go on insulin during the last several weeks of my pregnancy. We've started to cook and shop even healthier. Although we were fairly healthy shoppers to begin with, our portions were just too embarrassing to even talk about.

It has been almost a month now and the diet is getting pretty boring. In a moment of pure desperation I went to Barnes and Noble over the weekend to get a low carb/diabetic cookbook. My diet of hard-boiled eggs, string cheese, cucumbers and 17 grapes just wasn't doing it for me and I needed more variety. I must say it was really difficult to find a cookbook that supported the life of an 8 month pregnant woman who is still working 3 jobs and remodeling her house. By difficult I mean finding realistic recipes I could integrate into my life over the next 8 weeks (and hopefully beyond) that didn't require hours of preparation or exotic ingredients like the oil suppressed from the anal glands of a newt. I wanted 3-5 ingredients that I already had in my kitchen, could pronounce, and could whip up while standing on swollen feet after a 10 hour work day battling hunger pains.

Leave it to Betty Crocker. She hooked me up and she even has a recipe for STUFFED FRENCH TOAST!

So my meals went from this:

(This was in Alaska, by the way)

To this:

And yes, I've started drinking out of a measuring cup. I have to keep a sense of humor or I'll cry myself to sleep.

I hope...

In oh... say... 8 weeks (but, no more than 9) I'm going to have a baby. Specifically, I'm going to have a baby boy. More specifically, I'm adding an extra person to the world. Even more specifically, I made a human being... like, from scratch. I don't even bake cakes from scratch!

This is surreal. and terrifying. and unbelievable. and exhilarating. I'm going to own a person. I'm going to say things like "My son", "My little boy", and "Sorry, I can't right now, _____ is napping." I'll eventually hear the word "Mama." And perhaps, I might actually start feeling like an adult. ;)

This time last year I was planning a trip to Alaska; I was scouring the web to find deals on clothing and shoes. This time last year I was getting monthly pedicures and purses to match the season.
Yesterday, I did 3 loads of his laundry with Dreft detergent and I enjoyed it. This morning I was overjoyed to find a sock monkey on sale. How glorious?

In 8(ish) weeks I'm going to have diapers and sloppy kisses (I hope) and food on the floor (which my puppies will LOVE) and extra laundry. I'm going to have a delicious smelling baby and sleep deprivation and two whole months off from work. My child will have amazing grandparents and doting aunts and uncles.

I hope my son is brilliant and handsome. I hope he has dark hair and he doesn't ever know what a kegger party is or what marijuana smells like. I hope he loves to read and has dorky hobbies like having an ant farm or playing scrabble. I hope he loves school and has a good appetite. I hope he's easy going like Daddy but driven like Mama. I hope he loves animals and people. I hope he lets me dress him for years to come. I hope he saves his pennies in a piggy bank. I hope he loses his front teeth and he has a lisp for weeks. I hope he doesn't tell us right away when he stops believing in Santa, the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny because he's afraid the presents will stop. I hope he's sensitive and thoughtful. I hope he gets skinned knees and dirt under his fingernails and is curious about life. I hope he wants to keep the salamander he found under a rock or have a pet something.

I hope I'm fun and stop worrying whether the house is clean enough or the savings is enough. I hope I go to work and find a marshmallow in my hair or spit-up on my shirt and it makes me smile, not cringe. I hope I make the time I need to, to still be me and be a wife and have a career and be an amazing Mom... simultaneously. I hope I find an accessory to a small toy on the floor and know exactly which warrior or army man it belongs to. I hope I learn to love animated movies. I hope I still have date nights with my husband... without the baby tagging along. I hope I still care about my appearance to some small extent but I don't stress over a wrinkle in the cuff of my pants. I hope I lose the "baby weight" quickly and painlessly.

I hope he's healthy and has all his parts working properly. I hope his smile melts me that same way his Daddy's does. I hope he cries the minute I birth him because the world seems too much. I hope he knows how much I love him and he remembers what my heartbeat sounds like from the inside. I hope I can give him everything he needs and most things he wants. I hope we're the best parents we know how to be. I hope we can take him to amazing places and he can experience the world with us. I hope, at some point, he tells me he hates me because then I know he's demonstrating independence and that I've done something right.

I hope I enjoy every minute of finding out the answers to all of these questions.