Losing the “Busy” Excuse

Last night a friend of mine rang and I let it go to voicemail since we were sitting down for dinner.  Once I listened to her voicemail she had listed out her schedule for the week and how “busy” she would be and how “busy” life is and so on.  If I could try to find time to call her in between her millions of things, that would be great.  I have been the one trying to get ahold of her for a couple of weeks now.  It wasn’t just for any reason, it was to tell her I was pregnant so she didn’t have to learn the news from Facebook.  But time was running out.  I shot her a picture that we are planning on posting to FB and she immediately called me.  I guess she wasn’t so busy after all.

I’m not trying to pick on my friend but I am using her as an example.  The Husband and I have been purposely trying to ban the “busy” excuse from our daily lives.  In this day where we have every means of communication available to us at our finger tips, we sure do think of a lot of excuses to not be able to call Grandma or a friend we haven’t spoken with in a couple of months.  I’m tired of getting the excuse from friends and I sure don’t want to give it back to them.

Unfortunately, as much as we live in a “busy” society, we also live in a society that doesn’t seem to know how to say “no” from time to time.  My Husband started saying “no” to side jobs.  They are great money but woah are they time-consuming and cause some serious stress.  It was adding to the busy excuse as well.  The second he started saying “no” he felt much better.  After he said it a few times it got easier and freed up time to do what he wanted to do.

Sure, some of the things that make us busy we can’t say no to.  Sometimes are lives really and truly are busy.  But the rest of it….really?  Why do we even feel the need to make the excuse?  Isn’t it a good thing to be busy, to have friends want to call and meet up, to have weekends filled with family activities, stay-cations, mini trips, long trips, or even lazy days filled with movie marathons?  That means you are alive, not busy.  That means you are doing something with your life.  You are finding purpose.  Why not enjoy it instead of rushing through it?

By losing the “busy” excuse in our summer (and saying no!) I cannot express how much more we seemed to live in the moment.  I can honestly tell you we took every minute we possibly could out of our summer and made every effort to make time stand still and summer last a bit longer.  We really aren’t busy right now, we are just indulging daily in life.

Telling our Families

While we have told a few people about our impending arrival, we were holding off on telling our parents, and for good reason.  To start with, my family lives two hours away and I don’t see them often.  Two, both mother’s have big mouths.  The concept of waiting to tell their friends the news was just not going to sink in.

We started with my Mom, Dad, and sister the day I hit 9 weeks.  We went back home and poor Rebecca had been busting to spread the news.  She has some self-control, unlike my Mother.  Both Fenway and Rebecca had “big sister” shirts we put on after we arrived.  The problem was Fenway’s said “big sister” on the belly and on the back it said, “I have a secret, rub my belly to find out.”  My Mom assumed we were pulling some sort of weird joke on her and it took my sister (she had figured it out) to convince my Mom to just look at poor Fenway’s belly.  She yelled “Are you serious!?” at least 1500 times.  It was all very humorous and obviously very exciting.  My sister immediately produced onsies she had been slowly stashing away and my Dad, with his Alzheimer’s, still has no idea we were even there for the weekend.  We eventually followed up with telling my brother and his wife.  She cried, he nodded a “cool” and went about his business.  Very him.

Onto the next set of parents.  It was my MIL’s birthday and we joined her for lunch.  Both of my in-laws are deaf (I can’t sign, my Husband can) so we opted for a card that basically stated we are going to quit calling you Mom and move on to calling you Grandma.  This elicited a lot of smiles and clapping from his mother and his Dad gave a nod of approval.  After that it was lunch as normal.

I have another ultrasound at 12 weeks and from there we will Facebook announce and call extended family and Grandparents.  My Mother, on the other hand, is having no idea how to keep her trap shut.  She lives in a world where nothing bad will happen and she just thinks we should tell everyone.  I live in a world called reality and still fear the worst case scenarios.  While those scary thoughts are fading as each week passes, they are still there.

The number one reason I am so glad we kept this close to us for a while was to give ourselves time to get used to the idea.  Everyone has opinions, advice and a million questions.  Just learning you are pregnant is overwhelming enough, let alone feeling the need to make sure you appease everyone else.  The Husband and I were able to adjust to this new norm.  We were able to think about how we wanted to handle this pregnancy without outside influences.  I was able to alleviate some pressure keeping it a secret and how often can you and your Husband share something like that? It has actually brought us closer and strengthen our marriage in a new way.

As far as the Mother’s go-the mayhem has begun.

Am I Doing This Wrong?

While I have been down the baby road, it has been awhile and I have never been down the pregnancy road.  I have spent years joining in the excitement as my friends have found out they are expecting a bundle of joy.  I have listened to them as they have told me about the pregnancy books they are reading and magazines that offer them information.  I have shopped with them as they told me about the latest and greatest products that are offered for baby.  I have been a sounding board for them as they debate on the best birthing plan for them.  I have even joined those friends and coached them in the delivery room.

Over the years of watching my friends I have given thought to what I would do in their shoes.  How I would react.  What books I would order.  What research I would do.

It turns out, I was wrong about how I would go about it.

I have no desire to order a book about what to expect while I am expecting, baby names or caveman style birthing.  I have googled about two pregnancy related topics and decided to just ask my doctor and use my common sense.  I can research till I am blue in the face but I will make myself crazy over every tiny product if I do.  I did grab a sign language for babies book but that is only because my in-laws are deaf and I might as well learn with baby.

I have decided the internet and books will give you every topic of what can go wrong, what you shouldn’t eat, what you shouldn’t do and how you are wrong and everyone else is right.  All of these topics will vary culture to culture, country to country and doctor to doctor.  (Confusion)  This filters over into raising a baby as well, I remember that part.

The only thing I have looked up is how to start adjusting my yoga techniques.

Am I doing it wrong?

I eat well. I quit drinking wine.  I gave up soda and fast food years ago. I adjusted my heart medication when we first started trying to get pregnant so it would be safe for baby. I have been taking prenatal pills for a year now.  I have given up cliff diving.  (Okay, I never did that in the first place.)  And I’m getting a bit more sleep because growing a baby is a lot of work.

I have decided I am not the first woman to be pregnant.  I have decided that while I like to be informed, I don’t need to be inundated with too much information.  I have decided that already having a healthy lifestyle means I don’t have to come up with an entirely new lifestyle while pregnant.  I have decided to listen to my body as I go.  I have decided that I will not stop my life and act like my pregnancy is the only thing going on.  I have a marriage, a job, family and friends that I will not put off with lame excuses.  I have come to realize/remember that babies really don’t need much, society makes you believe they do.

And not only did I decide on this but my Husband supports this decision after I had a few days of freaking out.  Because: am I doing this wrong? We discussed what would work best for me and us. We discussed how we wanted to go down the pregnancy path.  Sure, it could change as this goes but for right now, this is what works.

Am I doing it wrong?  I don’t know but today I feel like I’m doing it right.

 

 

 

Telling Rebecca

My kid is no dummy.  There have been a few times that she has looked at me sideways.  She has questioned why I haven’t had wine repeatedly.  She tried to catch us and ask if she would have a sibling by the time she is 13.  (Her bday is May, baby will be here April.)  We wanted to wait a bit longer to share the news with her because she is a kid, a girl, a young lady who can’t hold secrets is really what I’m saying.

I had ordered her a big sister shirt but it was slow to be shipped.  Instead, we sat her down one night and told her we needed to have a discussion.  You could tell she was trying to read our faces.  I handed her an envelope and told her to open it.  It had the ultrasound pictures in it.  The first thing she said was “I knew it! You weren’t drinking wine! I knew it!”  Then she stared at me like the baby might come crawling out any minute or perhaps I grew a third head suddenly.

It was slowly sinking in.

She did some bouncing around, she squealed and then we went to dinner.  That is where the questions started and have yet to stop.  At one point she simply stated, “I’m going to have a lot of questions about this.”  I understand kid.

Some of the best have been:

Will you have it Duggar style?  Like, in the bath tub, at home, with everyone? (Referring to the 19 Kids and Counting show on TLC.)

If I’m with you when you go into labor is there some sort of waiting room for kids or can Dad come get me?  I don’t want to see the “stuff.”  (Thank God her Dad lives literally 4 blocks from the hospital.)

How fat are you going to get?

Can you feel it moving yet?

Where does it pee at?

Can I go with when we find out what it is and if I go does it involve yucky stuff?

Are we still going on vacation next year?

Why do your boobs hurt?

Can you go swimming with me?

How much room is it going to take up in the backseat? (The girl travels heavy I tell ya.)

We aren’t going to turn weird and get a mini-van are we? (Hell, no.  No offense to you mini-van drivers.)

Are you sure I won’t have to share my birthday month?

Do I have to share any parts of my room with this baby?

How exactly did you know you were pregnant?

And it has gone on and on and on from there….

We will tell our parents (finally) this weekend.  She is ready to bust at the seams to share the news.

 

 

How Far Do You Support?

I went through my divorce.  I struggled through moments, I cried, I laughed, I changed, I learned and it happened.  I did not skip parts, ignore parts, pretend it didn’t happen or back pedal in that divorce.

I did it the best way I knew how.  I did what worked for me and I am ever so grateful that my divorce was amicable.  Amicable enough to even use the same lawyer and go out to lunch together after the judge announced us no longer husband and wife.

Not everyone gets that, I understand.  And let me say, everyone’s divorce is different.

Years later here I am with a friend in my house and her three children.  Her arms are covered in bruises from her husband.  We sat in a lawyer’s office this morning and she was all over the board.  I sat there getting frustrated.  Just what did she want exactly?  What are her goals?  Ten years I’ve listened to them two yell, fight and carry on.  I’ve supported her, given her places to stay and bit my tongue.  Now they are in my house, living on my bank account and she wants to find an easier route then actually going through it.

And she looks at me like I have no clue what I’m talking about.

I want to scream at her.  Shake her.  Tell her what reality is.  I could go on and on but here is where I am at.  I’m sitting in a chair next to her, pregnant.  I have a job I’m late getting to.  I have a beautiful, brand new house that I got up early to clean this morning because there are 4 extra people and a puppy staying there.  I have a Husband that will come home tonight that I will be happy to see.  You see, I worked hard for that.  Damn hard.  So while I will be supportive of friends when is enough, enough? When do your morals win out?  When do you tell your friend she is going to have to learn the hard way?  I’ve already done it.  I’ve been there.  I feel the stress today, stress that isn’t mine because I remember those days all to well but these aren’t my days.  No, they are hers.

It is a funny thing, being the already divorced person.  I completely understand the steps but no, I will not do it for another person.  The other thing I’m realizing, I can no longer be supportive of a toxic situation someone chooses to put them selves in daily.  It is exhausting.

July 23, 2014 – The second half of my day.

If you haven’t read the first half, you should.

 

I went home from work that day at warp speed.  The dog and I retreated to the bathroom with more tests and I started peeing while she started attacking flying wrappers.  We lined those positive tests up and I was more convinced this was true.  I had math to do.  How the hell did this happen?!  I was clearly in shock.  I pulled out my app, crossed out some nights, figured in when doctor appointments were, what happened when, carried the one, decided that night was laughable sex and that night rocked, so that night was obviously it.  We managed to get pregnant that night.  I did more math, okay I googled, and came up with an approximate due date.  Just like that we have a plan from A to B.  Or more like from today till April 3rd.

I stared at the calendar.  We can manage a third anniversary trip that involves adult drinks and a beach, with friends after this kid comes around.  I made a mental note.  Timing looked good.

The dog stared at me and was clearly feeding off my anxiety so I figured we should remain calm until the Husband came home.  Mostly, remain normal.  I called him with my best “everything is normal” tone.  He said he would be extra late getting home from work.  I burst into tears.  It wasn’t anything near the “normal” I was going for.  He called back five minutes later to make sure I was okay, apparently I was acting irrational.

I took the dog for a long walk, we came home and did yoga, we sat outside and read a book.  I paced.  I watched my DVR.  I paced.  I did more yoga.  I needed a glass of wine.  Oh, wait! Last night was the last time I would drink for 9 months. I hit the panic button.  I watched the clock.  The dog stared at me.

The Husband finally walked in the door a little after 10:30 pm.  Normally my ass would have happily been in bed but I was perched on the couch.  The dog jumped for him and he asked how my day was.  I didn’t give this moment a ton of thought to be honest.  Some do this big, grand, tell their Husband they are going to be a Daddy from Pinterest thing but I hadn’t thought that far ahead.  I had done too much math and peeing for the day.  My brain was full.

I went with the first thing that came out of my mouth “I didn’t know last night was going to be my last glass of wine for nine months!” Apparently I went with my first concern and started tearing up.

He stood there and started smiling.  “Does this mean you are pregnant?”

I pulled out the millions of pee sticks and the dog stood proudly next to them.  Yep, this meant I was pregnant.  We sat on the couch in a bit of shock and talked.  There were tears.  (from me)  There was laughing.  (from him)  We then went to bed and before we went to sleep the last thing we discussed was how nothing would be as we have known it again.

The following night we ceremoniously sat outside on the back deck and I had my official last glass of wine until next April.

 

 

July 23, 2014 – The first half of the day.

There is this funny thing that happens when you spend months trying to conceive.  You will spend every month noticing the tiniest symptoms and will try to mentally turn them into pregnancy symptoms.  At least that is what I have been doing.  I would blame this or that and eventually take a pregnancy test which would be followed by my period no less than 5 minutes later.  Or so it seemed.  It was like a horrible running joke.

Last Monday, July 21, I was doing just that.  I wrote off the month of July because basically, my doc said too.  Sure, there was an egg on each side but the viable side was way to small for anything and the good egg was on the broken right side. She wasn’t even bothering with a trigger shot.  We would see what August held for us.  So then Tuesday rolled around and I was telling my Husband that I was having cramps that went on for days and clearly this new fertility drug had some side effects.  It was also making me a bit emotional, which was new, because I’m the least emotional girl.  I don’t get PMS, I don’t get hormonal, nothing.  I know, I’m weird.  But here I was ready to cry in the middle of the furniture store because I couldn’t find chairs I wanted.  My Husband looked at me like I had lost my mind.  He offered me wine.

By Wednesday morning, July 23, I was still having cramps and figured my period would surely come in time to annoy my boating weekend.  Wait, every weekend is boating weekend, so either way it sucks.  I figured I would just get the routine negative pregnancy test out of the way before I left for work.  I peed, the dog sat and stared, I set it on the counter and went to find shoes.  I forgot about the test and came back 15 minutes later.  I stared.  I said “holy shit!”  I got the box out.  I read the directions.  I compared pictures on the box to the picture on the stick.  I sat down.  The dog tried to eat the pregnancy test.  I said “holy shit!” some more.  I walked in circles and went back  to comparepictures again.

That test said I was pregnant.

Pregnant.

22 months of nothing and now pregnant.  On the month I shouldn’t get pregnant.  Impossible.

Pregnant.

But I had to go to work.

Pregnant, that is what it said, right?!

I don’t think I remember that drive to work.  I don’t think I remember much of what I did that day at work because I spent most of the day on this emotional roller coaster that I did not expect.  I went to Target at lunch to buy a million more tests because surely that test at home was wrong . Surely I need to pee on 50 more to make sure.  I also bought hair ties at Target with my tests because suddenly, buying just those tests, over lunch, seemed weird.  So hair ties and pregnancy tests.  I even bought the kind that are digital that flat-out say “pregnant” or “not pregnant.”  I felt like I needed to make this as simple as possible because suddenly my brain wasn’t functioning.  I couldn’t handle double lines or plus and minus signs.  It all seemed like math and I couldn’t solve for X in a moment like this.

That emotional roller coaster, that was real.  That was unexpected.  I felt like crying.  I felt like laughing.  I felt happy, sad, joy, scared, freaked, confused….you name it, it happened that day.  I didn’t want to talk to the Husband on the phone because I was afraid I would blurt it out.  I called my doctor and they ordered me in for blood tests.  Then my brain started on chances of miscarriage, ectopic pregnancies and everything else my doctor had warned me about.

Like I said, emotional.  And that was just the first half of that day.

But after 22 months of infertility, I was pregnant.