Thursday, June 13, 2013

Little miracle

I've been quiet lately in the blogging world, and for good reason.
I've been busy growing another little person! Another amazing miracle!  It's crazy to think about Patrick and Carter, and their little personalities, expressions, and antics, and think that a completely new and different person will be added to the bunch in just over six months.

The pregnancy so far has been very similar to my first.  Nausea that doesn't go away, many aversions to many foods and the overwhelming tiredness that is fairly constant.  With Carter, I had none of this.  I felt a bit tired - but mostly awesome throughout.  I thought maybe I was just too busy with Patrick to worry about being sick.  I thought maybe I'd morphed into one of those superhuman preggo-moms who seem to glow and glide their way through pregnancy.  Well that thought came back to bite me.

I'm 12 weeks along, so the first trimester is basically over.  The nausea is beginning to subside - though tonight, our dinner was grilled cheese and tomato soup, because I couldn't stomach the thought of cooking the chicken that still sits in the fridge.  In fact, its presence there deters me from opening the fridge altogether.  I actually looked away and felt around the cheese drawer when the time came, and actually thinking about it right now makes me a little queasy.

I'm kind of on the wait-and-see train when it comes to letting people know about pregnancies.  I always tell friends who let us know before 12 weeks that it's wonderful to let people know, and if the worst happens, then they'll have that support and prayers needed to get through a miscarriage.  However, my mom lost a baby when I was 7, almost immediately after I told my classmates. It sounds silly, but the trauma from that has made me weary of letting my baby news out until I hear the heart beating.  As a little girl, I'd been filled with so much hope and anticipation, only to be let down. Fortunately, my mom got pregnant with my sister soon after, and the day before I turned 8, she was born.  She is an old soul with a deep heart and lots of passion. I often think about how she wouldn't have been born if we'd had our other sibling - and that would have been a great loss.

With each of my pregnancies, I've had a sense of wonder stemming from this happy realization - that my world would be a much different place without my sister, and that my world would be a much different place without each of my little boys.  This new little one is already a unique little soul.  I'm going to type that again, because I love it so much and I want my sincere belief in it to sink in.

This new little one is already a unique little soul.

All through my pregnancy, the mystery has built up.  Boy, or girl? What will he/she look like? Will he/she nurse well? Sleep well? Be larger than Carter's whopping 10 lbs, 14 oz.?  Will he/she be outgoing and friendly instantly like Patrick, or a little more cautious like Carter? Will he or she be emotionally scarred because they are going to be born close to Christmas and New Years?

Our due date is December 24.  Given that both Patrick and Carter were 10 days late, I'm totally not expecting a Christmas baby.  We are going to stay home for Christmas though - you know, just in case my body is tired of being pregnant around then, and the babe is starting to feel squashed.  Joseph said the ideal date is really December 31 anyway, because then we can claim him or her on our income tax for the entire previous year, but not have to actually deal with diapers and the like for that time.  I pointed out that some months previous, I'd be busy "dealing" with this baby - you know, kicking me in the ribs and stepping on my bladder, but he was still pretty thrilled about the prospect of a tax break.  He really is a dear, sweet man. And hey, there's got to be at least one perk for the dad who has to live with the somewhat-demanding pregnant lady for nine months.

Joseph has been really wonderful, though I do resent it slightly when he has a beer or some scotch in the evening.  I believe with my last pregnancy he said, "Hey, I'm drinking for two." Not a welcome comment my friends. He felt some major hostility at that moment in time.  Like I said, he really is a dear, sweet man.  He's really kept me, the kids and the house afloat during this yucky-nausea time - plus his company, which is our sole source of income.  Daddy-pressure can be pretty crazy. A little more love thrown his way probably couldn't hurt.

I'm beginning to ramble, and lose my train of thought, which is a sure sign that bedtime has arrived.
More news on how the new miracle is progressing to come!


  




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