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Posts Tagged ‘mother’

We’re growing! Now let’s get real, part 7

In Non-Fiction, Opinion/Personal, Personal on January 12, 2019 at 1:41 pm

Part 1: Morning Sickness

Part 2: Cravings & Aversions

Part 3: Digestion

Part 4: Body Talk

Part 5: Second Puberty

Part 6: Irrational Fears

Let’s continue the subject of thought patterns and how being smart doesn’t even matter when your body becomes the host for a new human.  We’ve covered the fears, which are greatly affected by the raging hormones in your body.  But how about suddenly becoming the most forgetful person in the entire world?  Because, trust me, it happens.

I am fairly organized.  Being in a management and supervisory position for 3 years has resulted in my organized chaos turning into actual organization.  I am the master of spreadsheets, tracking forms, to-do lists, and prioritizing.  My email not only serves as the majority of my communication, but also am always visible running log of flagged tasks organized by date to keep me on my schedule.  I rock this stuff – BUT

Pregnancy brain…it is not a myth.  It is real.  And it is currently rocking me.

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I have been getting ready for work in the pre-sunrise hours of Kentucky “fall” and “winter” (I use those terms loosely, since the last month has been rain – sunshine – light jacket – no jacket – good god I’m sweating through my sweater – where’d I store my scarves – hello snow) and between finishing my hair and packing my lunch I run out to start my car so it’s nice and toasty for my ~half hour commute.  Four times, I have then been late for work after losing my mind and destroying my living room scouring it for my keys.  My keys, which I had just used 10 minutes prior to warm up my car.  Convinced I had lost them, and taking way too long to remember that if my car was still idling then the keys must be still in the car.

On the regular, I lose my vocabulary.  Luckily, I am surrounded by people that know me well enough to fill in the blanks when it takes me too long to catch back up to my own thoughts.

I have almost ruined more than one dinner by forgetting that it was on the stove or in the oven, even if I am still physically in the kitchen but distracted by some other task I think to start while waiting.  Multi-tasking is absolutely not my thing right now.

Silver lining:  It’s common, and people are quite understanding.  Not only are you dealing with sleep interruptions – body discomfort, tossing and turning, hourly pee breaks, active baby in the wee morning hours kicking around all your organs – but you’re distracted.  Your mind is quickly becoming overwhelmed with the anticipation of meeting your baby, the questions, the concerns, the list of things still left to do before baby get’s here, the plans that need to be made, the uncertainties.  I could keep going, but I think we all get the point that this process is equally as mental as it is physical.  Being distracted and tired is absolutely acceptable and the people around you will generally get that, especially when you are surrounded mostly by other professional women and mothers.  Take the time to unwind, even if you just sit in a quiet room for 30 seconds to take a few deep breaths, and then give it another go.  Things will fall back into place, and even if they don’t fall back into the places they were before pregnancy.  That’s still okay.  Chances are, nothing will be in it’s place for the next 18 years anyways, so this is a good way to get reacquainted with the organized chaos, or chaos in general.

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We’re growing! Now let’s get real, part 6

In Opinion/Personal, Personal on January 6, 2019 at 8:15 pm

Part 1: Morning Sickness

Part 2: Cravings & Aversions

Part 3: Digestion

Part 4: Body Talk

Part 5: Second Puberty

I am an educated woman. I completed a four year degree at a well recognized (while still affordable) university in my area. I’ve honed my skills in my career to continue growing, proving myself, and climbing the ranks at a stable and comfortable pace. I am well read and was raised to be self sufficient. I was taught common sense and problem solving skills from as early as I can remember.

Guess what? None of that matters. Quite early on, and sporadically throughout the pregnancy, all reason goes right out the window.

Welcome to the world of Irrational Fears!

So far, starting around week 6 and occurring randomly ever since, I’ve had he following thoughts:

  • Don’t cough too hard, you might knock it loose.
  • Don’t use your ab muscles very often, you might squeeze it loose.
    What if those aren’t ligament pains and are actually your uterus detaching inside your body?
    What if that wasn’t a kick of the baby rolling over, but a sign something is wrong?

Those are only the main ones I can easily recall, there have been many other brief thoughts and worries. I have googled myself to death looking up every symptom, feeling, and sensation.

Silver lining: I think a touch of paranoia is normal. I’ve learned so much from googling even the most random things – I’ve learned details about the changes to a woman’s body and the development of the baby that no health book ever included. I’ve learned a lot of different scenarios, which can definitely be scary but also helps me feel more prepared in case any of those scenarios occur with me. Also, I am aware that my underlying daily anxiety is definitely playing a role. While concerns are normal, not everyone will experience the level of concern I sometimes do, but my being aware of that affect is enough for me to talk myself through any freak outs.

We’re growing! Now let’s get real, Part 5

In Funny, Non-Fiction, Opinion/Personal, Personal on December 30, 2018 at 11:00 am

Part 1: Morning Sickness

Part 2: Cravings & Aversions

Part 3: Digestion

Part 4: Body Talk

Noxema pads, Lip Smackers, Teen Spirit, and Cucumber Melon Body Mist. The essentials for the late 90’s / early 2000’s teen girl. A “grown up” haircut, hours in front of a mirror before leaving your room, and that lifted weight of teen dreams come true when you wake up to find the Noxema worked and that pesky puberty breakout is healed. Thank god puberty comes early in the life span and only once, right?

Wrong. Welcome to your Second Puberty.

I assumed that the rush of hormones in early first trimester, serving the purpose of sustaining the embryo until the placenta takes over, would pass. My first 3 months of pregnancy was a nightmare. My face erupted into massive breakouts without fail or remedy. It’ll pass, I naively kept repeating in my head. Truth is, is hasn’t passed yet and I’ve just rounded the halfway mark.

The mood swings have subsided – slightly. I’m a quick trigger with feeling annoyed but no more random bursts of tears for a while. I’m a sweaty, hot flashy mess almost constantly. This chilly, rainy Kentucky “winter” weather is prime for my body right now and feels a-maz-ing. But this skin… It’s dry, it’s patchy, it’s itchy, it’s inflamed, and it’s still erupting (albeit on a smaller scale). Thank god my husband loves me because my bed head, no make up mornings are less “naturally adorable” and more “ogre-troll with flesh eating bacteria disease” these days…

Silver Lining: Unfortunately, the hormones are necessary for pregnancy to sustain and baby to grow. I had always heard of the beauty and glow of pregnancy, and felt 100% like a hideous creature. However, I learned the “glow” is actually just the increase in blood flow (check – daily nosebleeds from weeks 14-17) and the hormonal hot flashes (double check check!) and hormonal breakouts are very common during pregnancy. While not enjoyable, it isn’t a major concern to be honest. I changed up my skin care routine a little to address the changes to my skin texture and habits, and this has helped to reduce the issues I’m experiencing. And the further I get in this pregnancy process, the less and less it occurs. Just find a routine that fits your new skin and stick to it, and all will be well.

Some suggestions for pregnancy and nursing safe skin care:

We’re Growing! Now let’s get real, Part 3

In Personal on November 18, 2018 at 9:59 am

Part 1: Morning Sickness

Part 2: Cravings & Aversions

So here’s the thing – the ugly honest truth – not being able to eat might not be the worst thing right now, since there’s a 50/50 chance that you won’t be going to the bathroom successfully anyways…

Digestion and…constipation

This was probably the first symptom I had, before I even realized I was pregnant. No test yet, no realization that my period was late, no sickness – just awful, terrible heartburn nonstop that refused to be treated by any method known to man.

Second was the opposite end. It’s not a pretty subject, but I figure I might as well do away with embarrassment and being self-conscious since all my boys and pieces will be poked and prodded endlessly through this pregnancy and delivery. Everything you manage to eat will collect in your gut for days and refuse to digest or pass.

Like, days…

And guess what? A lot of these OTC meds you may have on hand already aren’t recommended for pregnant ladies. So what does the internet offer? “Drink lots of fluids.” Check! I’m constantly thirsty even when not pregnant, but it’s gotten even more extreme. So I increased it even more, and quite possibly came the closest in history to drowning myself internally with the high amounts of urine my body was creating only around every 10 minutes. Still no changes in the bowel department.

“Try a natural solution, like prunes.” Sweet baby Jesus, prunes… I’d almost rather stay constipated than have to force feed myself another one of those things! And it only slightly helped get my guts rolling again.

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We’re growing! Now let’s get real, Part 1.

In Personal on October 23, 2018 at 7:22 pm

The miracle of life!

The wonders of procreation!

The trauma of labor…

Everyone talks about pregnancy. What to do, what not to do, what you can or can not eat or think or look at or talk about or stand near or have within a 25 mile radius. Everyone talks about the joys of parenthood and the love for your child and the glow of expectant moms.

Nobody talks real talk, though. Nobody talks about all those weird, gross, awful days leading up to having your baby in your arms. Nobody preps – and I mean truly preps- other females who have never experienced pregnancy before. So I will.

I am first time (and likely only time) pregnant, hitting in at 10 weeks right now. I have had so many experiences already that I had never heard of before. And while going through them I would mention them to another female, who would then respond with “oh yeah, that happens” or “just wait, that’ll get worse.” How did nobody say these things before?! Why did nobody share?! I’ve decided I will begin a log of all the WTF moments I have through the course of my pregnancy, not only so I can show my kid later in life when they wanna act like mom is being too harsh, but also to give fair warning to other ladies out there.

First, let’s start with an obvious one.

Morning sickness. However, did you know that morning sickness is not just in the morning? It can last all day. Or hit at random times, such as right in the middle of lunch. And it isn’t an “I think I need to vomit, head to the bathroom, get it all out, and go about your business” for some.

Oh no, no.

For others (lucky me), it’s more of an “I think I need to vomit, run to the bathroom – nope, that ones taken, run to the next bathroom, pray nobody else is there or standing close enough to overhear, pace the floor, hover near the toilet, dab your brow, try to self talk your stomach into cooperating, decide it’s safe to leave, return to your desk, try to resume working, shut office door, begin removing layers of clothing to reduce overheating while still dabbing brow/neck/maybe even armpits, sit miserably at your desk dry heaving with no results for 3 hours, suddenly feel its life or death if you don’t eat pizza, start eating pizza, think this was the solution only to get halfway through pizza slice and start heaving again, not be able to finish pizza, dry heave for 3 more hours while still hungry.” And so on until you manage to fall asleep.

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A Life Story – Addiction

In Opinion/Personal, Personal on May 30, 2015 at 3:26 pm

I still have pictures of us in diapers, laying together in the floor of my mother’s apartment, right across the hall from her parents’ apartment.  Most of my childhood memories include her.  Our mother’s were best friends.  We were raised together.  We fought like sisters, and although we weren’t truly related by blood, we came to call each other cousins.  It was easier to explain due to our shared last names and the fact that we literally grew up together.  By middle school, we had formed our own separate groups of friends, and still like sisters, we reached a point where despite knowing we loved each other, we argued more than anything.  By high school, we had outgrown that stage and became close once again.  We planned classes together.  We were together all summer break long.  There wasn’t a day that went by that we didn’t talk.

Her parents split up.  Her mom left.  Her dad was devastated.  I can remember staying the night at her house one weekend and having to take care of her father as he drank his feelings away.  Then a wedge came in.  A wedge that I viewed as a nuisance, a problem, inevitable trouble.  She viewed him as perfection.  We had both had other boyfriends throughout our years, but this one was different.  I had a terrible feeling about this one.

I knew his habits.  Everybody did.  Then I came back home from college to visit for a weekend and ran into her at a store.  We hadn’t talked in a little while.  I almost didn’t recognize her.  She was frail, bony, her cheeks were sunk in, her pupils were completely blown out.  I knew.  She had allowed his habits into her life like never before.

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My Valentine’s Day Love Story to Music

In Opinion/Personal, Personal, Random on February 14, 2014 at 8:26 am

I think I’ve finally figured out my love for music.  Despite bring completely oblivious to the technical side, knowing any real musical terms, or having any knowledge whatsoever on how to play any kind of instrument, I have still always felt very drawn to and moved by music.

There is that girly side of me that hears a song and says, ” oh my god, that’s EXACTLY how I feel right now!” There’s also the side of me that enjoys the pure creativity of it.  As a writer and (recently dabbling) painter, it’s very easy even without any real knowledge to appreciate another’s form of expression and that’s a very important thing for the artistic community, no matter what your craft is.  And a good play on words or an intellectual and beautiful flow of words that reads or sounds so elegant and pretty on paper or on the tongue set to a melody? I’m a sucker…

But what really sparks my love for music is the ability it has to remind me of who I am, that magical moment during the first few seconds of a song that somehow transports me to another time and place that I may not have even thought about in years.

Example A: anytime I hear Journey‘s “Don’t Stop Believing” I am taken back 4-5 years to a grungy Irish pub on a busy street a little over an hour from my home with 2 of the best friends I’ve ever had.  We’ve all started our lives outside of the college world now – jobs, responsibility, marriage, kids even – and it makes it hard to stay in touch as much as we’d like. But as soon as  that very well-known bit of music begins, whether it be on the radio, a cover by a band in a bar, or a terrible karaoke rendition, I’m right back in my early 20’s with my two best ladies on each side singing our hearts out and living it up alongside at least a hundred other strangers doing the same exact thing. No care in the world, being invited to sing and shimmy on the bar top, feeling as free as we possibly ever may in our lifetimes.

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What Is Family?

In Awards, Opinion, Opinion/Personal, Personal on June 6, 2013 at 1:36 pm

Not long ago, I got into a discussion with a friend about the term “family.”  My friend is in college and was telling me about one of her classes in which they discuss controversial topics and the idea of “traditional verses non-traditional” was one of these topics.  Her view-point was surprising to me as she explained what her response in her class had been.  When she was a child, she thought that all families were the same.  All families had a mother and a father and that was it.  I searched my brain, but could never remember a time in which I also thought that all families were the same as mine.  But I quickly realized that was because I saw it every day.  I was raised by my mother alone, and most of my friends were being raised by both parents – the “traditional” family – so I always knew that there were different kinds of families.  Until I reached college, I had never heard the terms “traditional” or “non-traditional.”  I had never given it a second thought and my initial reaction to these terms was somewhat biting.  Being labeled a “non-traditional family” seemed almost like being excluded from some prestigious group, like any time that term was said, the say-er had an automatic distasteful tone.

I remember being in a family studies class probably more than 5 years ago.  I was never the type to draw attention to myself.  I took my notes and bided my time until class was over, making mental notes of points that the conversation brought up so I could use them later during open answer tests.  But on this one day, I knew I had to speak up.  My stomach was in knots and my brain kept saying “What the hell are you doing?!” But I raised my hand.  I demanded the attention of all my classmates to respond to a woman’s statement that children from non-traditional families are cheated out of a real family, that non-traditional families are detrimental to the development of a child.  My response was simple: “I disagree 100%.  I was raised by a single mother.  My father played no part in my upbringing, and I have no doubt that I am a better person because of that.  I was never cheated.  I never felt that I missed opportunities or missed out on a part of my life because of that.  If it wasn’t for the way my mother raised me independently, I could possibly not even be here now.  I understand that studies often show that children of single parent homes are more susceptible to learning problems, to lower socio-economic status, etc., but this is not always the case.  I wouldn’t have had it any other way and I disagree with generalized statements such as that.”  Needless to say, the woman tried to eat her words, obviously flustered in thinking she had offended me.

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The Invitation

In "How She Met Her Father" Series, Non-Fiction, Writing on May 23, 2013 at 7:14 pm

 Part 3 of “How She Met Her Father.”  Read Part 1 and Part 2.

She could count the number of times she had seen him on one hand. In almost 18 years, it was that few.  She remembered every time, even though she knew he didn’t.  She remembered every glance, every passing, every time knowing that he had no clue who she was.

She remembered the stories. Her mom’s friend coming to visit almost once a week, bringing toys and playing with her so it could be reported back to him how she was growing up.  Her newfound sisters recounting the plethora of times he polished off a case of beer and cried and voiced his wishes of how he would have liked to know her.  Did this affect her? No. He was the adult here, he made the decision to deny her from the very beginning. That’s not something you can so easily wish away. That’s not something very forgettable when you’re on the receiving end.

February Blog Challenge – 2: Three Childhood Memories

In Challenges, February 2013 on February 3, 2013 at 3:39 pm

Alright, Day 2: 3 significant memories from childhood…

  1. My grandfather bred chickens when I was young.  He dabbled in cock fighting (which is horrible and gross but was a popular underground money maker if you were good at breeding chickens and training roosters to be ruthless killers).  The roosters were all kept on ties, loose enough to strut around and peck at the ground surrounding their teepee homes, and most of the hens were kept in cages and pens.  When the hens hatched chicks, the chicks were placed in a large cardboard box and moved into the house to be cared for all day long.  They were put under a heat lamp and fed special food to ensure they grew properly so they would be healthy and strong adults to feed back into the breeding and fighting.  I was outside playing by myself one day when I was 4 years old and I went into the old shed in front of my grandparents house.  I didn’t notice the hen on the shelf near the ceiling until I heard her squawking and I looked up just in time to see her spread her wings to descend upon little old me.  She was mad and I could tell, so I turned on my heels to run.  I didn’t even realize I was screaming the loudest and shrillest scream of my short little life.  The chicken was right on my heels and I had heard the horrors of being flogged.  It was like a movie – I couldn’t run fast enough and just when I thought I was gaining space, I tripped and fell.  I landed right ont he 3 little steps leading to the porch, still screaming, and out of no where was scooped up into safety.  My ear-piercing girl screams had attracted the attention of my mother and uncle from inside the house and they ran to my rescue, picking me up and scaring the hen away.  We later found out that the hen secretly had chicks stashed away in the shed and apparently did not want a human near them.  I’m just glad I didn’t get a beak to the eye that day… Read the rest of this entry »
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