Peaceful pregnancy moments

When you’re a grad student and an expecting mom, late night PopTarts are bound to happen.  Tonight  (this morning?) at 2:30 am I took a study break to treat my progress with a snack. I guess the sugar woke little man because he started turning and stretching. Despite looming deadlines and tired eyes, I was suddenly so peaceful and happy. As I brushed crumbs off my bump, I relished the moment – the quiet stillness of my home, the contented breathing of my dog curled on rug, the progress I’ve made tonight on my essay, the tasty midnight snack…and most of all the sweet company of those tiny, sleepy kicks. 

I can’t wait to hold him in my arms, but sometimes I just love being pregnant. 

Napping?

In the first trimester, I couldn’t make it through the day without a nap. When I found it too hard to fall asleep at night, I starting purposely exhausting myself (by not taking a nap) so that I’d fall right to sleep at night. 

The second trimester was a breeze and I didn’t notice any fatigue, but now I’m in the third trimester and it’s a different story! My trouble is though I have so much I should be doing (homework, cleaning house, devotions and yoga (would be nice), spending time with D, making meals, more homework) that I feel far too guilty to nap. When I mention to D that I am just so exhausted, he’ll reply with a casual, ” Oh yeah, me too.” Or “ugh, I feel ya; I’m tired too.” 

OK, yes, I get it; work’s been terribly hectic and you are working long days and don’t even get a lunch, but I am growing a HUMAN. And when I get home from class, I can’t rest because I have chores to do or a dog to walk or HOMEWORK (SO MUCH homework). It’s Sunday afternoon and I’ve been awake since 8:30 (which was my “sleeping in”). I breakfasted and did devotions, and took care of the dog then hit the books…

Now I am desperate for a nap, but I don’t think I could live with myself if I laid down amid my massive to do list. There’s laundry on the couch and dishes in the sink. I have a very important assignment due this week that I’ve made scant progress on and my hormones are in full swing. 

All this to say, hope to the busy moms. I feel ya. I assume this overwhelming desire to cry and sleep and a strong inclination to knit little hats (which I definitely don’t have time for) is all normal. 

It’s a tough season, this third trimester thing. 

Sweet husband

I think my husband picked up on me hesitating to share baby related news. The past two days when he gets home from work and gives me a hug, he immediately puts his hand on my belly and asks, “How’s he been doing today? Is he kicking?” Part of me is thrilled, but he cynical part of me is wary. I feel like he’s humoring me and I’m reluctant to take the bait. 

But he is being quite sweet so I guess I should just accept it. 

How involved should dads be at this stage?

 

Are people sick of hearing about my baby yet?

The other morning as my husband commented that he was surprised I wasn’t bored of feeling the baby move. While, yes, I sometimes wish this kid would calm down a bit (like when I’m trying to sleep or do some studying!), I love feeling his energy as a sweet reminder that there is LIFE in my belly. But you know the old adage that there is truth in humor? Well, the next time I felt baby really getting excited, I – as usual – grabbed my husband’s hand so he could feel. He never refuses, but this time I teased, “I know you’re bored of it but…”  I can’t even remember his exact reply, but it was definitely not the “No, I LOVE feeling our son move!” I wanted. So now when I feel the baby kicking, I feel guilty if I point it out – like he’s secretly rolling his eyes. Same with sharing bump pictures with my family (some of whom are trying to get pregnant).

May I please be excited about this without feeling guilty?

Yesterday I was leaving the library and I felt a group of students looking at me. They were laughing (undoubtedly at their own conversations) but my first thought was that they were laughing at my bump – like I’m the unwed teenage mom here! #bumpshame! Can that be a thing?

For the record, I’m married and I graduated college 3 years ago. I’m only in school now because I decided to go back for my Masters before (‘before’ – ha! God had other plans apparently) we had kids.

Anyway, I’m tired of trying to hide my growing belly (at 29 weeks I’ve only gained about 15lbs, so the bump itself is my only real giveaway) and tired of feeling like I’m boring the world with my news. I’m starting to understand why ‘mommy groups’ are a thing – for the exact reason I hated them pre-pregnancy: it’s a place to talk non-stop about your kids! OH MY GOSH, I AM BECOMING THAT PERSON.

I swore I wouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I love this little (still nameless) guy and I want to share every time he does something new.

#bumppride #mykidisawesomeOK

Baby Anatomy – Was that a foot??

I first felt baby “flutter” at 16 weeks, and by 20 weeks (on Christmas day actually!) my husband could feel him kicking. Now at 28 weeks, this kid’s a regular acrobat. He especially loved that sugary glucose drink at the doctor’s this week. 😛  (no gestational diabetes – yay!) What’s starting to weird me out though is feeling parts of what is clearly an arm or a foot. It’s happening more regularly now that I’m able to feel actual body parts and it’s more than a little freaky… like I’ve got a little alien inside of me.

Milestone this week: we bought the baby crib! And a pair of Motherhood maternity lounge pants that I can’t WAIT for. Loving me some bump support.

Enough of the “American Dream” //

Also, this girl knows what’s up. This post is like a month old, but still good as I contemplate staying home with our child, which would mean living on one income and stop being quite the spoiled, first-world citizens we’ve become. Which is great, if you ask me. Less is so much more. I am happiest in a hotel room because it is clean, sparse, and I have only what I need. I hope I can be a voice louder than American society to my child in this view.

RachaelLee

At 25 years old, I spent my New Year’s Eve de-cluttering my home, donating bags and bags of clothing and other items, and watching a documentary on minimalism. It wasn’t a wild night out at a club, but it was exactly what I needed. It was enough.

Coming into the new year, I was thinking a lot about the “American dream.” I was thinking about how much we romanticize the hustle…the nonstop…the consumption…the “more is more” mentality and way of life. Our idea of success has turned into numbers: credit scores, salaries, number of bedrooms, numbers of friends, number of likes, number of followers. Meanwhile, this definition of success means that we have a country filled with people who got jobs they hated in order to make more money to have more stuff they don’t even like/want/need/use to live places they can’t afford that they don’t even like and live…

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Baby a nightowl?

I’m studying again (guess most of my posts will be the result of procrastinating homework) and it is well after midnight. To be clear, I am a morning person. Once I can convince myself to relinquish my warm feather comforter, I love being up with the sun and having a productive start to the day (which for me would mean yoga, devotions, breakfast and coffee, and maybe a finished chore or two). My husband, on the other hand, is the nightowl. He is impossible to wake up once he’s asleep, but that man has been known to accidentally stay up all night if a good book, programming/Photoshop project, or whatever has captured his interest.

This baby is his father’s son. His “witching hour” is when I am trying to go to sleep. Usually, this is around 11 and I fall asleep to him happily bouncing around what little space he has left in my stomach.

Tonight I am up way later than normal, and I keep getting distracted by watching my stomach move. That’s been a cool development over the last month. His kicks are now so strong that I can watch my tummy twitch and sway with his movements.

I hope his preference for nighttime activity does not carry over into post-birth, but for now it is nice to have the company while I write an essay at all hours.

First blog post

Ok, so. I have a mommy blog now. Didn’t really see that one coming. I am 27 weeks into my first pregnancy so that makes me third trimester-ish, depending on who you ask.

Here’s the quick run-down of the last 7 months:

• Late July: we decide we aren’t trying to get pregnant, but we are going to stop trying not to get pregnant
• Mid-August: we get pregnant.
• September: I quit my job (Planned in advance, but I did end up taking several sick days for fatigue and nausea and confiding in my boss that I was 6 weeks pregnant so he wouldn’t think I was just trying to use up all my personal days before I left the company).
• October: I start graduate school full-time at a good university whose program runs only 1 year (which was intentional because we are moving in the summer) so basically an insane schedule.
• November: Second Trimester! And welcome relief from nausea.
• December: It’s a boy!!! I come from a family with all girls….and all aunts…and all great aunts. We don’t know what to do with a boy. So, obviously, we have no names picked out.
• January: I fly to my hometown to be in my friend’s wedding, bump starts to show, mom throws a baby shower.
• February: So here we are in February. I’ll be 7 months in a few days, by which point everyone agrees I will be in the third trimester.

While the second trimester was fun, heading into the third is not looking so hot. First, SLEEPING – I want to sleep all the time (and frequently doze sitting up at my desk) but when I go to bed I can’t get comfortable and only sleep in fits. Not to mention getting up to pee is a pain (literally. a pain in the belly). Also, some of the not-so-fun pregnancy things are —- pause. Guys, he’s kicking. I think he resents being complained about 😉 —– anyway, things like acid reflux, constipation, bloating, and nausea are resurfacing.

When we first found out we were pregnant, I told my husband I was scared of losing my identity to the pregnancy. I didn’t want to be one of ‘those moms’ who can’t talk about anything but their kids and are only friends with women who have kids of convenient ages for playdates….you know the type. Not that there is anything wrong with being proud of your kids (I’m already so enamored with our little guy!), but I wanted “Mommy” to be a hat I wore…along with “professional”, and “wife”, and “best friend”, and “20-something girl”, and “traveler”. I didn’t want to lose me to this new role.

My sweet husband promised I wouldn’t.

Yet, 6 months later this baby (sorry kid, you still don’t have a name) is pretty much all I think about. I could talk about him all day and I spend a good bit of study time researching names or shopping for cute baby and/or maternity clothes.

All that to say, I need a place to unload all these thoughts about ‘joining the mommy club’. I type way faster than I handwrite, so digital seemed the way to go, and blogs can be customized – I love things like planners with stickers and multicolored pens, highlighters, Bible journaling, categorized notebooks….. ok, yes, I worked in Administration. Does it show?

Ok, back to homework. Time to put on my “graduate student” hat.