#MicroblogMondays 18: here we go

Well, baby boy will be here today. In typing this from my hospital bed, waiting for the nurse to start the pitocin drip. 

Nervous and excited to meet Cameron Louis. 

Happy last Monday of 2014!

#MicroblogMondays 16: does it still make you sad?

One of my BILs was over watching football yesterday and we happened to get on the topic of babies and loss. He asked: does it [my loss] still make you sad, do you still think about it now that you have D and another baby on the way?

The short answer: no, I'm not sad every day all the time about losing Malachi, but there are days (like 2 weeks ago on the 3 year anniversary of our loss) that I do remember him, and I am sad.

The long answer: that loss fundamentally changed me, but not just the loss--the whole experience of loss, infertility, and conception after loss--THAT'S what I think about, not daily, but often.

What truly makes me sad, for myself, for my SIL, and for anyone else who has experienced loss and infertility is the stripping of the innocence and joy of being pregnant.  And my heart breaks for those who are irrevocably marred by that sobering realization.

#MicroblogMondays 15: I whip my hair back and forth

I have curly hair--c-c-c-curly as Carrie Bradshaw would say. I didn't embrace my curls until late college, and I've spent these past 8 years growing my curls into variations of lengths, but never shorter than my shoulders.  I think I was traumatized after chopping my locks in high school, much to the dismay of my now-husband who said he "hated" that haircut in high school (mind you, we had dated and broken up, and we didn't speak for six years, so that haircut had absolutely no bearing on him).

Well, at 37 weeks pregnant, I decided I needed to feel pretty and pampered before Baby Boy #2 comes on the scene and I have no more time ever end of story.  I went to my tried-and-true hair stylist who specializes in curly hair, and I showed her a picture and she said ok I'm cutting it "here," motioning below my shoulders, still a good 4 inches to cut off.  I said OK! and bam, it was done. However, if you have curly hair, you know that curly hair straight and wet is NOT curly hair dry.  Upon drying my hair, below shoulders suddenly became much, much shorter.  And I cried. Not in the chair, but when I got home.  I've never been that attached to my hair, but suddenly not feeling those curls hanging down my back was a traumatizing experience.  I love long hair; I love the options of buns and updos, and I regularly twist my hair into various styles and pride myself on my ability to do so without professional help.

I don't know why the change shocked me so much, but I felt terrible about myself.  I woke up Sunday morning wishing it had grown back but it hadn't.  I showered and washed it and styled it and well, now I actually love it.  It's very Carrie Bradshaw, season 5, a look I always said I wanted, if I was brave enough to try it.  I guess I was brave enough, just not by my own doing.

I think Baby Boy #2 is a similar experience.  I'm excited for the change and for him to be here, but I also think there will be a period where I will feel that oh-my-goodness-what-have-we-done.  But when it's all said and done and washed and styled, I know we will not remember or miss our lives without him.

(sorry it's a little longer than a #MicroblogMondays.  Wondering what that is? See the inaugural post here)

Waiting in the wings

I'm still here, waiting in the wings for something that feels post-worthy. Between D's double ear infection and my subsequent sinus infection from hell, I haven't really had the mind to write.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving, despite illness, and I'm looking forward to the next few weeks of Christmas gatherings before baby is scheduled to make his appearance.  I'm fine with him waiting until his due date to come; I'd (selfishly) like to enjoy Christmas with Sparky and D.  And of course, now that I've said that, I'm sure baby boy will come sooner.

Probably the most exciting news is that I'll be a part-time stay at home mom starting in January.  I won't actually be going into my office at all...at least on a scheduled basis. Instead, I'll work from home 3 days a week while D goes to school 3 days a week full-time.  I'm excited that baby boy 2 will get some one-on-one time with me, but I'm also petrified that I won't be good at the whole stay at home mom thing. What if I suck at it? What if my temper is on edge? I mean, D is a toddler...

More about that when my head is less foggy and I can think enough to write down my true feelings :)

xo, and happy weekending

#MicroblogMondays 12: used to be

Sometimes I think my college-self was way smarter than my post-college, administrator/teacher/wife/mother self. I'll read back through literary analyses that I wrote in college and think, man, that was some good stuff!  Perhaps even better than what I wrote when I was getting my M.Ed.  

I love being in education, but I do miss reveling in literature, seeing what others don't see.  Maybe that's just a gratuitous past time that paved the way to who I am today, but there are days I miss who I used to be, that college-self, able to spend hours discussing T.S. Eliot, measuring my life by coffee spoons.  

Wondering about #MicroblogMondays? Click here to read the inaugural post 

#MicroblogMondays: a brief pause

I started to write about the craziness that is my life right now, but then I realized....let me just step back--for just a moment--and be thankful for what makes my life crazy. Despite the diaper rash from hell, despite the ongoing bathroom remodel, this is my life, and I am forever grateful that I get to live it and that I get to be a momma to these 2 boys and a wife to an amazing man. 

Curious about #MicroblogMondays? Read the inaugural post here 

#MicroblogMondays--toddlers and Dickens

When Dickens penned the now-trite phrase, "it was the best of times; it was the worst of times," I'm pretty sure he was talking about toddlerdom.  Last week Daniel had both Sparky and I questioning if we were the worst parents in the world; temper tantrums, sleepless days, and a miserable lack of eating at dinner time (thank God for hotdogs)--we surely had to be doing something wrong.  Don't even think about taking him out anywhere because you would pretty much guarantee a public breakdown, Brittney Spears' style.

Yesterday, after picking D up from my mom's, I could've sworn she gave us the wrong child.  We actually WATCHED a football game at our friend's house while D played happily with the cats, the dog, the ottoman, the videos on my cell phone, and everyone else around him.  Sparks and I just looked at each other thinking, WHO IS THIS CHILD?!  He was funny and cute and--gasp--easy.

A lovely Sunday memory to start our week :)

he was entertaining himself by pretending to fall of the ottoman and cry

What is #MicroblogMondays?  Read the inaugural post here