By now, many of you have received holiday cards, seen instagram, or been told face to face that we are expecting baby number two at the end of June! The three of us are so excited to add another member to the family, and although I’m not sure that Henrie quite understands (in fact, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t), I’m counting her in because she now points at my tummy and says, “baby!”
I’ve been writing every other week since we found out, but I’ve decided not to post my misery on the net. This is a time for celebration, and my “I’m really happy, but I feel soooooooooooooooooooooooooo terrible” musings mostly dwell on the feeling so terrible part of things. Here’s an update that is less tainted by nausea and exhaustion:
Week 3, October 11: I take a pregnancy test. I’m fairly certain that this is supposed to be the first day of my next period, and if this were the case, the test would have proven to be 99% accurate. I get a negative result, and we’re sad, but we determine to try again next time.
Week 4, October 18: My period still hasn’t arrived, and I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever get a chance to try again. Joshua suggests that I try another test. I tell him that it’s impossible, but three come in a box, so why not? I’m absolutely shocked when two pink lines appear. Not sure – errr, mathematically speaking – how that happened. Approximately two minutes later, Stacy calls to tell us that she’s being induced TONIGHT, nearly four weeks early and Margot is less than four pounds. It ends up being a false alarm (the induction, not the size), but it ends up being a dramatic night, pregnancy-wise, all around. Even later that night, Weston, our neighbor, drops by. I’m in the bathroom, and I hear him say, “hey, congratulations man!” to Joshua. I bust out of the bathroom, saying “what happened with us keeping this a secret?!” Joshua points at the two pink pee sticks and suggests that next time, if I’d like to keep our new discovery a secret, I shouldn’t leave the evidence lying all over the breakfast bar. Touché.
Week 5, October 25: Ashlee comes to visit, and I’m already starting to feel exhaustion creeping in.
Week 6, November 1: I fly to Boston to be with Stacy and K. Their induction is scheduled for that Friday, and we wait (and wait) for labor to start. Margot is born on Monday morning (just a couple of hours before I have to leave), and I return to work for a very full week. I’m so nauseous and exhausted that I throw up on both flights, and I start napping with Henrie in the afternoons (when I usually get my work done).
Week 7, November 8: I have my first appointment with the midwife, and I’m feeling terrible, sleeping all the time and not getting a lick of work done. Most evenings, I’m laying on the couch, nauseous and exhausted, while Henrie and Joshua play.
Week 8, November 15: We have an ultrasound to determine the due date, and the technician finds June 27. The heartbeat is 167 bpm, and I’m so relieved. I’ve been so nervous and worried this go around. As I’m driving home that night, Send Me On My Way by Rusted Root plays. It’s the same song that Joshua and I walked back down the isle at our wedding to, and I have this feeling that everything is going to be ok.
Week 9, November 22: Another long week at work. I’m so exhausted that I perpetually feel as though I’ve been awake for 36 hours, and I’m sitting down while teaching (which is, like, the most horrible thing a teacher could ever do). By the end of the week, I come home in tears, and throw an inexplicable fit. Joshua is sweet and implacable through it all.
Week 10, November 29: Thanksgiving has finally arrived, and I SLEEP. For DAYS. The nausea is still pretty terrible, but I’m not working, so life is good.
Week 11, December 6: Back at work, I’m still sleeping in later and napping (and not getting any work done), but I’m starting to feel just a little bit better.
Week 12, December 13: I tell my grade level that I’m pregnant, and everyone is so sweet. I’m so happy to have finally made it to twelve weeks, and as each milestone passes (ultrasound, heartbeat, 12 weeks), I feel a little braver thinking about what life will be like with another little one in the house. I’ve started telling Henrie about the baby in my belly, and now she says, “baby!” all the time. We’re anticipating those early months of baby wearing, rocking, and marveling at first smiles, coos, and laughs. I’m excited to see Henrie become a big sister.
Emotionally – other than the worrying – the hardest part so far has been stepping back as Henrie’s lead parent and needing Joshua to do more and more of the parenting. Joshua is a wonderful daddy, and Henrie loves him to pieces (she calls for “dada” most of the time, and when he comes home, she’ll have no one else), but letting go of baby Henrie is hard. In my more self-pitying moments, I worry that I’ll never be as cool as daddy and she’ll never need me again. Joshua reminds me that I’m so tired because I’m taking care of another baby now, that Henrie loves me, and that when she’s not feeling well, only “mama” will do.
I think this is just a part of her growing up and us growing up as a family. We let go just a little bit at a time. The letting go hurts, but I guess it’s just as much a part of parenting as holding on tight. So far, we’ve let go of co-sleeping in the same bed at night and night-nursing, and boy, those weren’t actually all that hard to let go of. I’m sleeping better than I have in 20 months. Henrie seems to enjoy spreading out in her own bed too, and the transition wasn’t nearly as painful as I might have predicted.
So that’s the news in the A household, where the husbands are rockstars, the daughters are full blown daddy’s girls, and the women suffer through the first trimester with little grace.
Image may be NSFW.
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Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
