Catching Up… Hard to do with Pregnancy Brain

I was just cursing my best friend for not updating her blog for nearly 4 weeks when I realized that I am such a hypocrite. Over the past few weeks, I have been so inundated with all things “baby” that the blog has fallen to the bottom of my list (along with laundry, shaving my legs, and the oh-so-fun task of writing Thank-You cards). So here I sit with the challenge of making my brain focus on one thing for more than 3 minutes.

Before I got pregnant, I gawked at the notion of pregnancy brain. It was a farce to me – a lame excuse women used to get away with being absent-minded. Pre-pregnancy, I was a perfectionist. Everything fell into a schedule, and everything happened according to a plan. Being absent-minded was not an option. Absent-minded people were just unorganized – they didn’t take the time to focus and really get things done they way they ought to. Then BAM! Sperm meets egg, 6-8 months go by, and I can no longer remember what I set out to do five minutes ago. Are you kidding me?! I try so hard to be that organized, planned-out perfectionista that I once was but I think I’ve lost her for the time being. I do try, though. My desk is covered in post-its because if I don’t tag the status of every. single. paper on my desk, I WILL forget why it’s sitting there. My house is cluttered with to-do lists, sometimes 2 or 3 of the exact same list because I will start making a list, walk away, and forget all about it just to start the exact same list 15 minutes later. Once again I ask… are you kidding me?! It’s like my brain just decides that it’s done for that moment and walks away with absolutely no notice to me. I can be mid-sentence and completely forget what in the world I was talking about or where I was trying to go with a story. I will get up to do something (which in and of itself is becoming quite a task) only to forget what I needed to do once I’m up. I’ve even gotten in my car, gotten out of my neighborhood, and completely forgot where I was going. All I can do is hope that I regain some sense of cohesion once the baby is born because I don’t think I could put up with myself like this forever, much less expect those around me to put up with this too!

Along with my pregnancy brain, I am in full-blown nesting mode. I didn’t really know this was a real state of mind until I caught myself going up to the nursery just to re-fold baby blankets that I had put away earlier. Only I think my nesting has become more of a neurosis. If we get anything to add to the nursery, it HAS to be put away immediately. And while I’m putting that away, I HAVE to check on everything that I’d previously put away and re-touch and move around if it needs it. OCD much? Yeah, probably. I contribute it to my perfectionista trying to come through and control the situation – for whatever reason, the nursery is the only place I can really focus. And I’m not sure if it’s typical “nesting”, but cleaning the rest of my house seems to fall under my nesting/neurosis umbrella. I will literally follow my husband around and pick up after him. That sweet gesture you’re making by cooking a homemade dinner? Slightly less romantic and thoughtful because I’m following you through the kitchen with a dishrag, wiping the counter each time you set something down or pick something up. Taking my dishes to the sink after dinner so that I don’t have to get up to do it? That is so sweet. You really shouldn’t have. REALLY – you shouldn’t have because I’m getting up behind you to make sure the dishes are going into the dishwasher instead of sitting in the sink. Hard day at work? Sit back and take off your shoes and socks – put your feet up. Only disregard my grumbling as I get up to immediately take those shoes and socks to the closet so they’re out of the way. It’s not like my hubby is a messy guy – I know those things will get picked up eventually. I just have this overwhelming urge to do it NOW. Agh – I said it before and I’ll say it again… if that man is still by my side when all of this is over, I am an extremely lucky woman. Some days, I honestly don’t know how he can look at me with a straight face and tell me he loves me.

For now, I’ll leave you with this one realization that I’ve been mulling over for the past few days. The nursery is ready. The baby showers are over. The clothes are hung in the closet, and the diapers are stacked on the changing table. There is only one thing left to do. HAVE THE BABY. Yipes.

*Although when I really get worked up about that one thing left to do, I just think about this face and realize that I’d give anything for delivery day to be tomorrow so I can see him in person.

Top Ten

It’s Friday and my brain is too far gone from the hectic week to put together a post, so I made some lists. Call me Mrs. David Letterman – they’re my Top Tens of Pregnancy (of course – what else?), although not listed in any specific order.

Things that I miss:

• My favorite pair of jeans. I tear up a little if I look at them too long, sadly hanging in my closet crying “Wear me! Pick me!”
• The ability to stay up past 10pm without feeling like a total zombie.
• Margaritas.
• Sleeping through the night without waking up 2-3 times for potty trips. We’ve gone through more toilet paper in my pregnancy than should be allowed by law.
• Wearing my wedding and engagement rings. I bought a stand-in to wear through the rest of my pregnancy, but it’s just not the same.
• Wearing heels. Like my jeans, I tear up a little when I look at them sitting in my closet, literally collecting dust. Although, I must admit I’ll probably keep a few pairs of flats around post-baby. I’ve become a big fan.
• My Victoria’s Secret pj’s. I actually boxed up my pre-pregnancy pj’s so I wouldn’t be able to see them. Or attempt to wear them and inevitably stretch them out. I know hubby is waiting for the day that I pull that box down from the top of my closet. Let’s just say looking cute at night hasn’t exactly been as big a priority to me as it was before I got pregnant.
• Being able to “get up and go” in a moment’s notice. It takes a little time and a lot of effort for me to go from point A to point B. Especially in a hurry.
• Beers with my buddies.
• Being able to bend over, twist, and put on pants and undies without hobbling around like a complete idiot.

Things that I love:

• Feeling my baby move. Best. Feeling. EVER. I love that I feel like I know him so well already.
• Reading What To Expect When You’re Expecting each week to track baby’s growth and progress.
• The compassion I get from other women – who knew they could be so nice? From simple acknowledging smiles in the grocery store to full blown conversations in the elevators, pregnancy seems to provide an instant bond between women.
• Hearing/reading other people’s baby stories and knowing that I’m not alone.
• My hubby’s face when he feels the baby move.
• My Snoogle body pillow – it’s a lifesaver. I highly recommend it for all preggos.
• Knowing that this is the one time in life I’m allowed to stuff my face and get round without judgment from others (although some people still feel the need to judge…morons).
• My new boobs.
• Decorating the nursery and hanging up teeny clothes.
• Maternity jeans – I’ll miss the elastic waistbands dearly once this is all over.
• Foot and back rubs from hubby.

Things I’m not so crazy about:

• The swelling – sometimes my ankles and the spaces between my toes disappear completely. I feel like I need to put up “LOST - REWARD” signs for them
• The heartburn that now bothers me all day and wakes me up at night. At least Tums has come a long way on their flavors.
• The fact that I cannot stand up or roll over in bed without extreme effort – complete with grunts and heavy breathing on my end and a few smirks and snickers from hubby’s end.
• The extra layer of cellulite that has taken up residence on my thighs and hiney. As if I weren’t cursed enough before baby. Mother Nature has such a wicked sense of humor.
• My ever-expanding booty. Like the cellulite, as if my booty weren’t big enough before, I feel like one single pair of my pregnancy undies could double as a swimming pool cover.
• The stretchmarks that continue to spread across my mid section. Cheryl’s neighbor (who’s also a mom and stretchmark victim) had a great analogy. It looks like Freddy Krueger attacked my belly.
• The hormone swings. I can go from your best friend to your worst nightmare in the blink of an eye. For absolutely no reason, other than the fact that you are standing there. Breathing.
• The fact that I can no longer climb into bed without a little help from hubby. I feel like a 5-year-old.
• The hot flashes. Although they aren’t as bad as the horror stories I’ve heard from some women. I get them occasionally at night where I’ll wake up in a pool of sweat, and sometimes during the day just sitting at my desk. I'm the crazy lady pounding bottles of water while fanning myself with a manila folder.
• The constant worry of hypertension and preeclampsia, now that I’m in the home stretch.

The good thing is, my list of things that I’m not so crazy about are things that should go away immediately or soon after I have the baby (however, the cellulite and XL booty will take some extra effort on my part). They’re just temporary nuisances that I have to deal with in order to get the big reward in May. As much as I complain, I still love it. Most days ;)

Tremors

This week I am in my 28th week of pregnancy. GAH how time has flown. My body is making the transition from the second to third trimester, so I guess you could say I’m entering the home stretch. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m ecstatic and TERRIFIED at the same time. Good God, I’m going to have a BABY. Fine time to freak out, right? But I’m not really freaked out, per say. Just anxious.

The last few weeks have been fun. Well, fun for me. Non-preggos would surely look at me in shock when they see that my idea of FUN is reclining on the couch or in my hammock in a big tshirt and fat pants with my hands plastered to my belly. Giggling. Before I got pregnant I’d look at anyone doing that with a raised eyebrow, contemplating calling the loony bin to make that crazy lady a reservation. But now I get it – I understand the fuss and obsession with hands-on-belly. Because Luke has been on the move! I can feel him spinning around, flipping upside down, stretching, and occasionally getting the hiccups. It never gets old. Even better, he’s strong enough now that you can actually see my belly move in response to his movements. Usually it’s just little flicks – in response to the more frequent kicks and jabs. It looks like my stomach twitches – just quick enough to make you second guess whether or not you actually saw my belly move. HOWEVER – there is absolutely no doubt when he is flipping over. Have you ever seen the movie Tremors? Remember the way the ground mounded up as the worm-creature moved under the surface? THAT’S about as accurately as I can describe what my belly looks like when he’s flipping. Some days it’s so bizarre that I feel like I should take my belly-show on the road and join the circus. Seriously – can your stomach do that?

Aside from my sci-fi belly movements, I think I may be getting into the nesting phase. I’ve always been an overly organized person. I feel like my house is a wreck if there is mail scattered across my kitchen counter or more than a dish or 2 in my sink. Right now our office has a few random boxes and other odds and ends sitting in a corner because we haven’t figured out where to put it all in the new house. And it literally pains me to walk by that room. It drives me nuts. But lately, my obsession with all things organized has gone into overdrive. Kevin was gone on a job this past weekend, and I saw that as the perfect opportunity to get our house in top shape. I hung pictures. I dusted. I moved stuff that we’d bought for the nursery into the nursery (instead of the random places that we’d just set the bags down whenever we got home with it). I put a lot of random “homeless” items into a hidden closet so that it was at least out of my sight (which totally reminded me of Monica in an episode of Friends). I ordered the nursery furniture that Kevin and I had picked out, which ultimately led to me sitting in the middle of the nursery floor imagining different ways to situate the furniture once it got there. For whatever reason, that led to me hanging up baby clothes that Kevin’s mom bought and mailed to us. Hanging up the new clothes led to me rearranging the way everything else we’d already bought for him was hanging. I sorted the clothes out by age/size. And then mixed it all back up because I felt like my OCD was getting the best of me. And then fought the urge not to sort it all back out. If you walked in the nursery right now, it’d look like an empty room. Just some tiny outfits hanging in the closet, a pile of shopping bags lined up against the wall, a bedding set still in its packaging, and a gallon of paint waiting to be opened. After this weekend, hopefully the walls will be painted and the furniture will be delivered. Then I can shift my obsession to the details and begin wrapping my brain around the craziness that is creating a baby registry.

Swollen Feet with Mickey and Friends

I’ve gotten lazy about updating the blog. Not really so much lazy – just sidetracked. My first excuse is that work kicked into high gear. I’ve been non-stop from 7-4 every day. Most days I felt like I hadn’t taken a single breath until I made myself get up from my desk for lunch. And by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit at a computer for a single moment even to write a quick post. Aside from work, I was helping my family plan for something big. Something HUGE. We were taking a week-long trip to Disney World. A total of 7 people – my parents, Kevin and I, my sister, her hubby, and baby Bradly – were packing our bags, boarding a plane, and heading to the most magical place on Earth. Because, really, who doesn’t turn into a big 5 year old the moment you walk through the gates at Disney?

Let me just say that I love Disney. I’m usually not a big fan of any place where hundreds of people – much less hundreds of KIDS - are running around. I can barely do Wal-Mart without cursing, and the mall is my worst nightmare. But somehow Disney is different. People are happy. There’s a giant castle with a parade and fireworks every single day. And characters from my favorite childhood movies are walking around giving out hugs and taking pictures. Okay, okay, I know. The characters aren’t real, you say. But I challenge you to keep your cool when you are standing face to face with the uber-gorgeous Minnie Mouse.

We had a great time. Each day was spent at a different park. We ate. We shopped. My mom, Bradly, and I people-watched while my sister and the guys rode all of the thrill rides. FYI while Disney is kid focused, there are a few rides that are geared more towards the adults. However, that usually translated as not preggo-friendly and definitely not 13-month-old friendly. So we had to sit out for some things. Unfortunately for me, I LOVE the thrill rides at Disney. My absolute favorite ride in all of Disney is the Aerosmith Roller Coaster. And I couldn’t ride it this time. So I sat outside and pouted like any grown 25 year old pregnant woman would do. As I mentioned before, there are Disney characters wandering the parks to meet and greet. Usually, they were surrounded by kids. But that didn’t stop Kevin and me from jumping right in line with the rest of them to take pictures. We met Mickey and Minnie, Donald, Goofy, Pluto, Chip and Dale, Stitch (one of my favorites!!), Pooh, Eeyore, Tigger, and Buzz Lightyear (who even gave a salute to baby Luke as we walked up). Strangely, we noticed that there weren’t nearly as many characters walking around this year as there had been in previous years that we’ve gone. Was it because we weren’t there during the peak season? Makes sense, right? But no that wasn’t it. We learned that even Disney was being affected by the crappy economy. Some of Disney’s characters were given their “take a hike” notice due to hard times. How sad is that?! Somewhere poor Snow White and her Dwarves are flipping burgers. How’d you like to see THAT next time you drive through Whataburger?

One solid week of 6 adults and 1 baby trying to agree on exactly what to do and when to do it got a little trying at times. Being the happiest place on Earth, we all tried our best to grit our teeth and bear it when it got tense. Especially when the baby got fussy or preggo got swollen and/or hormonal (i.e. – moody. Remember my lost filter?). Usually, we all went our separate ways after dinner and we had one day that was rainy which all of the “couples” used to do whatever else they wanted. Kevin and I opted for Downtown Disney to do some shopping and get some alone time in. And for our last night at Disney, Kevin and I had a date night. We had dinner at a restaurant in the Magic Kingdom, did some last minute shopping, and then watched the fireworks while huddled up and drinking hot chocolate.*side note: I failed to mention that the one week we spent at Disney was apparently the coldest week of the year for Orlando – they had record lows, and it froze 3 nights while we were there. I’d rather it be in the low 50s all week than be in the 90s with 100% humidity, though, I suppose!

We had a great time – I can’t wait to take Luke back when he’s old enough to enjoy it (and when he’s big enough to ride everything – mama’s not sitting out on rides again!). I was worried that I wouldn’t enjoy it as much because I was pregnant. But honestly, being pregnant gave me a much different perspective. While waiting for the others to get off the big-boy rides, I went in shops that I otherwise wouldn’t have gone in. I did more people watching and paid more attention to parents interacting with their kids (begin collective eye-roll now). Things that I never would have paid attention to before. And I even got a free souvenir that serves as a constant reminder of my family’s trek all over Disney – the most swollen feet that I’ve EVER had. My feet look like two freshly baked loaves of bread, and my toes look like Vienna Sausages. I’m still trying to figure out how to get the swelling down to at least what it was pre-Disney. …Any suggestions?...

Preggo Nursery Rhyme

Oh where, oh where have my ankles gone?

Oh where, oh where could they be?

One day they were there,

And the next day they’re gone.

Oh where, oh where could they be?

Dear Bladder,

…you are not my friend today. In fact, you have not been my friend for some time now. I have a few bones to pick with you…

You are the reason I am tired today. You are the reason I am tired most days. Perhaps you didn’t get the memo. Pregnant Chandra needs sleep. These are her last few glorious months with the possibility of uninterrupted sleep. That does not seem to be coinciding with your current schedule. Every single night, you feel it necessary to wake me up at 3:50am on the dot to run to the bathroom (and more often than not, also around 11pm and 1am). My body jolts awake, feeling as if Niagara Falls is about to flow from my body. I peel myself from under the covers and out of bed to shimmy to the toilet. Because this happens like clockwork each and every night, I have learned to make this maneuver with my eyes closed (peeking only briefly once I reach the toilet to ensure some snake or other sewer critter isn’t swimming in there, patiently waiting for me to have a seat). However even with the closed-eye approach, once I have left the comfort and warmth of my bed my mind begins to crank and my body begins to wake up. There is no going back to the deep slumber that I enjoyed before you so suddenly woke me AT 3:50AM. If possible, do you think we could try to push this back to somewhere around 6am when my alarm goes off? And maybe even 8-ish on the weekends? Think about it and get back to me.

Not only do you interrupt my sleep, but you have also altered my daily activities. No sip of water, not even a single reposition in my desk chair, goes without that familiar feeling – Niagara Falls knocking at the door, waiting to escape. Fearing a possible accident at work, I stop what I’m doing and shimmy down the hall to the ladies room. Sometimes I feel like I need to speed my shimmy to a quick jog (something that would surely provide entertainment for all that I pass along the way) because of your urgency. I pick a stall and get ready to release the rapids when… drip. Drip. Drip. That’s it?! You’ve got to be kidding me! I sit for a moment, making absolutely SURE that there’s nothing else coming before I trek back to my desk. And there’s nothing. Defeated, I shuffle back to my desk to get back to work. Lo and behold, not 10 minutes later, with a sip of water or reposition in my chair – there it is! “The Falls” are banging on the door again. Aha! I knew I wasn’t crazy the first time – I really DO have to go. I shimmy back down the hall to the bathroom, have a seat, and… drip. Drip. Drip. Foiled again. You win, bladder. Just as you won yesterday. And the day before that.

Please consider this letter my waving of the white flag. I give up – I surrender. Please let me know when you’re ready to show some mercy and call a truce.

Many thanks.

Preggo Rant

I love being pregnant. I really, truly do. I love that God has deemed me worthy of becoming a mother and has given me the opportunity to have this baby. I love that my body is going through changes that only other mothers know and understand. I feel like every mom in the world is a member of this exclusive society, and the initiation is pregnancy and childbirth. I can’t wait to complete my initiation and become a lifetime member.

I am in my second half of pregnancy. My belly has rounded out, going from the “has she gained weight?” phase to the “she’s having a baby!” phase. Random people are stopping me and asking me when I’m due. It’s nice. And it’s also hilarious to watch people want to retract their questions as soon as they ask, fearing that I’m not really pregnant and just a little too round in the tummy area. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t feel at all like I’m “due” any special awards or recognition for being pregnant (although the “expectant mothers” parking spaces at some stores are WONDERFUL and should be placed at ALL grocery stores and Targets). But the “Oh my god – congratulations!” and “He’s going to be so beautiful!” comments have really become sunshine points of my days. They are nice buffers between the daily bouts of heartburn, gas, back aches, and swollen feet and toes.

HOWEVER

I am realizing that with the “Congratulations” comments comes the “Let me tell you” conversations. Why, oh why, oh WHY do people feel that they have the right to tell me how to “be” pregnant? Even more so, why do people feel they have the right to tell me how to raise my unborn child? Every. Single. Day. Some self-appointed “parenting guru” feels it necessary to tell me what I should be doing, how I should be doing it, or what to expect in the next few months/during childbirth/for the extent of my child-rearing years. What gets me are the different types of people that I get it from, particularly men and other parents:
Men – First let me say that seeing a man holding a baby, carrying a child on his shoulders, even just holding their child’s hand – anything to do with a man being affectionate with a child (in a non-Dateline “To Catch a Predator”-type of way) absolutely melts my heart. I think dads can be a little overlooked during the pregnancy phase, which is unfortunate as they are usually the target of the many mood swings and the retriever of late-night food cravings. However, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, a man has absolutely no right to tell a woman how she should be feeling during pregnancy. Except maybe the “pregnant man” that used to be a woman who got pregnant (I can’t believe I actually just typed that… only in today’s world). Until you have carried a human being in your body, please do not tell me how or what to feel. If you know some amazing remedy to my current ailments, by all means please tell me. If you have man’s-perspective advice on what I can do or say for/to my hubby as an extreme token of appreciation, by all means please tell me. But, once again, do not tell me how or what I should be feeling physically. *My hubby gets a free pass on this for many reasons. #1 – he was there when baby Luke was created. #2 – he puts up with my many pregnant personalities, often changing without notice. #3 – he reads about pregnancy ailments and milestones and then tells me when they’re probably coming soon (i.e. “Those jalapenos are probably going to start giving you heartburn soon.” Or “You’ve been on your feet too long – they’re probably going to be pretty swollen tonight.” – Both of which he have told me) I think it is absolutely the sweetest thing that he is reading/remembering these things and trying to coach me through them in my moments of hard-headedness.
Other Mothers/Parents – There is nothing more that I can say other than you should know better. Let me throw out a little disclaimer here… I respect mothers and parents in general. I bow down to everything that you do and everything that you have been through. But please don’t lecture me on how much things are going to change when the baby comes. Really, do you think that I don’t know that already? You were given the chance to learn lessons on your own. Please please PLEASE let Kevin and I have the same experience. I’ve also had some mothers tell me “what I’m in for” for the remainder of my pregnancy and their hell-acious labor stories. If all goes according to plan, I will be pregnant for another 4 months. I know that I will get bigger. I know that I will get more and more uncomfortable. I know that certain bodily functions will get worse and new ones may appear. And sweet Lord, I KNOW that labor will be the most painful experience of my life. For my sanity and your safety, please remember what it was like when you were pregnant and others tried to tell you “what you’re in for”. Remember the ping of fury that shot through your body as soon as others tried to tell you. Remember that all you wanted to hear was “You look great. You’ll be fine. And if you need to vent, I’ve been through it and I’m here for you.” Those words are golden to a woman with child.

Let me catch myself before you start to think that I’m some angry head-case that walks around snapping at anyone who tries to speak to me. I appreciate the many mothers, fathers, and friends in my life who have been through this. And I appreciate all of the words of encouragement, support, and advice (I know, that completely contradicts this entire post) that I have received up to this point. The advice has been amazing – what creams to use on my belly for the itching and oh-so-lovely stretchmarks, ideas on nursery room colors, what medicines I can/can not take, and ways to deal with those who offer too much advice are just a few. But these bits of knowledge were received from those near and dear to me, and usually in conversations where I’m asking “What do I do??”

A lesson to those with preggo’s in your life…
Be supportive. Tell her she looks great, and really mean it. Don’t expect her to be capable of everything she was capable of before baby (spending hours walking the mall or grocery store, staying up late to hang out, etc). Expect mood swings and out-of-the-blue tears. And most importantly – when you start to think “Oh my god, I can’t TAKE her anymore! She’s become a monster!”, know that your old friend/sister/daughter/wife is in there somewhere. She’s just going through a lot and is just as confused and frustrated as you are (if not more). Do your best to love her as much as you did before hormones took over her every breathing moment.