A Wintry-Mix Day

See that is what we have here where I live. Once every 10-20 years you get an actual snow day. In between that time however, we have lovely wintry mix days. It leaves schools certain that they should close and every other business in town completely confused as to what to do. For those of you that are used to snow and icy roads let me tell you, there are actually those of us who are not qualified for such days (at least not on the road).

All of that said, after having to drive home in heavy sleet yesterday at a whopping 10 mph, my butt (and the baby's) are home today. Thankfully, Justin can work from home during bad weather, which means I only have two family members to worry about driving in this mess. After stealing my favorite shirt from Justin's side of the closet (it was bigger, but the baby is correcting that) and slipping into my new maternity leggings a friend gave me last week, I am content to not be dressed up today. While we should have gone grocery shopping last week, the only thing we are at risk of running out of is caffeine free coke. I have 1 left. It is the last bubbly drink in the house outside of sprite, and after 6 weeks of drinking that and only that night and day, it will take a hefty chunk of money to make me drink another sip for awhile.

Days like today give me lots of time to think. While I used to pray for weather days like today as a little girl (always thinking it would keep Daddy home), I dread them as an adult. It doesn't exactly feel like a vacation and so it isn't super easy to enjoy myself because I feel like I shouldn't. Crazy? Well, so is the weather here.

On the plus side, as a first time pregnant chick, I have quickly come to realize why pregnant women hate advice. Because you hear too much of it and typically ask for only a little of it. If you thought you hated the advice about going to college, or dating, or planning your wedding, I suggest you take a deep breath and chow down on whatever makes you happiest because you will have to grin through it somehow. I am only three months in and I am about to run out of snacks and happy drinks to keep me smiling some days. If I didn't think my mother deserved a sainthood before, I tell you what- where do I go to nominate her now. Here is why.

In the first few weeks of nausea, I got advice on not overeating during pregnancy because it is (apparently) the worst sin you can commit during this nine month adventure. When I wasn't grinning through advice on overeating (which is impossible when all you want to do is keep down whatever you can possibly muster down), I was given sympathetic looks from both old and new mothers alike. The worst of it is when you realize apparently being a first time mom means you are the most ignorant being on earth and must not have known nausea was a possibility or the easiest part of pregnancy. How does it help me to hear things like "oh, wait until that 36 week visit" or "and then during delivery they...oh, well, you'll see.". For real, ladies, I have a mother of my own and she not only laughed the stork theory out the door, she made sure I was never left that clueless over babies. Needless to say, I love my mother. I LOVE my mother. Amidst the pitiful looks and "helpful" advice, I have found solace in my mother's texts and phone calls and visits. She doesn't baby me when I tell her I am nauseous. I receive the same "aww, baby" that I have heard and loved my entire life. She hasn't stuck her tongue out and rubbed her hands together menacingly while laughing and saying this is all payback for what she endured with me. She just listens and tells me she remembers and it usually gets better. Then she moves on to talk about the happier parts of being pregnant. She doesn't chide me about my diet (or lack thereof). She told me to feed the baby whatever he/she craves because God was only going to let me crave what they needed. (Apparently I have low blood sugar every day and am in need of antioxidents daily because Little Bit craves chocolate these days.) And when the baby made it clear chocolate is king three weeks ago, my mother didn't get onto me, but instead aided in the madness that is this baby's likes by sharing chocolate krispies she made at home. She even got Daddy in on it by buying me chocolate bars during a normal shopping trip. She has held her tongue when I go to the doctor and not questioned a word, and listens to everything I tell her as I replay each visit with her on the phone.

And, y'all, I know the books say make friends with recent moms, but let me just warn you, this doesn't always work perfectly in my experience so far. Sometimes, it is VERY helpful. You can get the play-by-play of what to expect at your next visit and what processes take place during delivery in your area. Books can only alert you to so much and then they seem to notate that you should check with your hospital to be certain. It is great to have someone reliable to ask beforehand, especially, if like me, you want an answer months before it even matters. That said, the downside can be a silent competition that you aren't prepared for, at least I wasn't. Doctors do different things with different patients, so your visit may not be exactly like your friend's was and the doctor may not recommend exactly what she did for her. Sometimes you choose to do things differently because some things may not matter as much to you or you may feel it is more important. At times, that reliable source may just seem a little irritated with what you are learning from your experience. All I can say is, don't let this ruin your special time. Justin has to hear me complain about this from time to time because it happens and I get upset and I have to vent to him or I'll just let it sit and fester. At least once I get it out, he puts me back on track and I can remember this is our time and our pregnancy and we have to do what we think is best. Plus, then I have my sister to talk to and then there is my mother who listens and cares and there isn't a chance of competition between us, so she is always happy to talk and always happy to listen and always happy to give advice when I ask her for it.

Somehow in the last few weeks, advice has skipped from pregnancy to child-rearing and I sometimes worry my mouth is going to get the better of me. Y'all, I am that person that considers tripping the child that runs off from their mom. I cringe listening to the yelling and arguing from the toddlers to their parents. Oh, and let's not talk about the kids that get up and run around the table at a restaurant. For real? I know I don't have kids, so technically I am not supposed to talk, but I feel I can because I was a kid once and I know my parents did not let me act like that. Did I get in trouble? Of course. Did I earn those noses in the corners, groundings, and occasional spanking? I most certainly did. Did I scream bloody murder during lab work at the doctor's office. Yes, but I am attempting every time to hide that from my nurses now. In all of that, I loved my parents and grew up to love them more. I trust them out of every other adult on earth. I know I can go to them with questions and they won't shove what to do's on my shoulders, but offer advice and suggestions and let me make the call. That said, I grew up with a strong dislike for anyone outside of my parents telling me what I can and cannot do. An even stronger dislike now is being told what our baby will be like. I know I won't be the perfect mom with the perfect house and the perfect attitude and perfect smile all the time. (I can dream though. :) )I know this little chocoholic baby of ours will not always be the giggling, cooing, adorable little angel I think they already must be. Still, I have high hopes for this baby and I already think our little one will be capable of so many great and wonderful things. (Granted if they are uncoordinated it is totally from their mommy and I am apologizing in advance.) I don't like being told to give up or give in. It drives me bonkers (for lack of a better word). I especially don't like being told to give in with my baby. 

The strange thing in all of this, even though I get so frustrated with the unwanted advice and so upset with what is said, in some ways it brings me closer to our baby. It makes me want to protect them all the more. It makes me more determined to push them in the right direction, to hold their hand, to keep my eye on them, to love them, to hug them, to kiss them good night, to get that Mommy-look down pat (oh, because we all know we needed that from time to time). It makes me realize more how much I want for them and how hard I want to fight for them to find it for themselves. It makes me want to cover their little ears and tell them every day not to listen to the madness their mommy is having to listen to. It makes me closer to my husband because I can't do this alone. It makes me need him more, in a new way than before. It makes me question what we think and what we talk about. It makes me trust him more and it makes me more grateful that he is so on board. It makes me grateful he is my partner in crime with this big step and where this little one will take us. It makes me pray more and it makes me pray harder, for things I didn't know to pray about before. It makes me beg and plead for what I thought I already had. It even makes me miss my parents more. I am already seeing a little differently what my parents always told me. I thought I understood, but I am understanding better already. It makes me grateful they fought so hard for us and did so much for us. It makes me grateful they taught us not to follow the crowd and reminded us daily not to believe everything we heard. It makes me love a whole lot more than before. 

Again, it is funny how someone so little can change so much even before they are here to see it all taking place.

                       

A Little Catching Up...

Every Saturday, Justin wakes up before dawn and goes to his office to accept a new challenge in his game. He leaves me to sleep for as long as I want. This morning was no different, accept for my hand resting on my growing baby bump. I looked at the empty spot beside me and had the most wonderful thought. Soon our Saturday mornings won't be so quiet and that baby bump won't be there below me, but instead beside me. I could picture the prettiest little face, head bobbing as it turned tiredly, one cheek marked red from where the sheet was wrinkled beneath, and their curls shining in the sunlight coming from their daddy's window. Okay, so it may be a year from now at least before Justin is up for playing again, or perhaps I should say that the baby may be willing to let him sleep so he can get up to play. I know it was a daydream. I also know that I won't likely be sleeping so late anymore myself, but I know that it wasn't that far off. This baby has already begun to change a great deal for us.

For nearly a year, Justin and I prayed for this little one together. I (always Mrs. Optimistic) worried he or she may never come. Justin has been a great support- never flinching, never showing doubt, always somehow wonderfully certain. Even the morning that we found out I can remember my choking on tears and surprise while he sat with unwavering certainty in the bed waiting. "I already knew." was the first thing he said (much better than the "I told you so." he could have offered me). When "morning" sickness hit the following morning in full force, Justin didn't flinch. He managed everything without one complaint or one joke at my expense. *On a side note- Morning sickness is a joke in itself in this house. From Dec. 17th until last Tuesday, there has only been 24/7 ALL DAY sickness- the kind like I can't remember before. It kicked me on my butt and laughed at me I'm pretty sure.* Back to my sweetheart though, Justin has been a trooper. He's treaded on our cold, hard floors to the kitchen in the dark for breakfast first thing every morning, made sure we were stocked up on anything I thought sounded good, and even used those smoothie skills I've been hearing about for two years to make me some supposed "Nausea-Free" smoothie pops. *Note to self- you can not believe everything you read on Pinterest.* He has marched through the freezing cold weather with me to our first two doctor's appointments. He has also seen his wife for the giant baby I warned him about- the one that hates doctors and thinks Advil should cure everything. He only laughed at me when he was eavesdropping on my nervous laughing and pathetic "joking" with the lab nurse, even though I did explain to him I was a devil child to too many of them when I was little and know now I should really attempt to stay on their good side. He has even attempted the art of keeping a dreadful patient occupied in the waiting room so I won't look so miserable, and he only smiles when he fails. In his defense though, no one, not even my parents, have ever truly succeeded in making me a better participant in the waiting room. I say all of this for two reasons:

#1. So that in a few months, while worrying over the big nothings that will come and go with delivery, I may reread this and remember how perfect and wonderful my partner in all of this has been all along.

#2. So that our baby will know how wonderful and loving their daddy is.

I have so much more to catch up on and say, but we are losing time and there is a nursery to be cleaned out. With morning sickness out of the way (I just can't say that without a smile), I should be a much better blogger for a while I hope.

I hope all of you have been doing well. I have a lot of catching up to do with you as well, I know!