Fatigued

At 3-3:30 a.m., I come awake. Often because already this baby is right on top of my bladder. But sometimes because a scared Kate has come to me for comfort. Or a thunderstorm is passing through.

I am awake for an hour, trying to calm my mind enough to sleep.

I’m so tired.

This morning, my alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., and I couldn’t get up. I hit snooze for nearly an hour.

I finally struggled out of bed and downstairs. I have to eat something first thing lately, or the nausea is worse than usual. Well, today, it was worse than usual anyway.

I’m sure glad I happened to clean that toilet before I puked in it.

And then Kate woke up and she had wet the bed. So I tended to her, showered but only half-dressed. Flora didn’t have night-time accidents once she was potty-trained, but Kate seems to have suffered a major setback yesterday.

All-in-all, Kate and I had difficult evening yesterday. She wouldn’t listen to me at Flora’s soccer practice, and she pooped her pants three times! And I didn’t have a change of clothes for her because I thought we were well past that. So, I threw out a pair of underpants (again) and she went commando for awhile, then she wore Flora’s pants (Flora had changed for soccer into shorts), and then the last 15 minutes of so of practice, she walked around with a poop stain on her butt.

Mother of the year, right here.

Lately it seems with Kate that everything requires negotiation — or, more to the point, bribes and/or threats. “If you do XX, you can have chocolate.” “If you do not listen to me, you cannot watch a TV show tonight.” EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION with her. Well, not dinner time often. That girl eats her weight in food every day lately.

Last night was a loss-of-privileges night. The not listening coupled with the poopy pants (and, yeah, that port-o-potty didn’t go anywhere) meant she didn’t get a TV show. (Flora did while I was bathing Kate.) I just had to ride out that storm.

It was nearly 10 p.m. before I went to bed, and I was dragging way before then.

Anyhoo, this post is nearly incoherent. But let me just add that I have buckets of laundry to fold (and, you know, actually launder), stairs to vacuum, and my parents visiting this weekend.

When’s my nap?

As an aside, I have a funny relationship with the word that is the title of this post.

Disappointed!

We didn’t hear Bud’s heartbeat today. Which, while supremely disappointing, is no cause for worry.

No, really.

The midwife visit went great. The midwife (KP) was very direct in addressing our understandable anxieties for this pregnancy given my wonderful history. She could see that not hearing the heartbeat was a real letdown.

However, everything else is well. (TMI alert:) My uterus is measuring 10 weeks; there’s no cramping or bleeding. And, again, all signs point to normal singleton pregnancy. My 40 week due date is Dec. 10 — which we all know I won’t go that long. Think: Thanksgiving baby!

Plus, we are going to consult with the perinatologist that we have seen with my other pregnancies, and have a dating ultrasound (which probably sounds more romantic than it is) next week.

Both KP and Dan checked in with me at the end of the appointment to see that I was okay. (I hope Dan is okay, too. Babe?) And I just have to take deep breaths, and pray, and know what I know.

When I got back into my car, my iPod was cued up to “Either Way” by Wilco. And if that’s not a direct message of “chill out,” I don’t know what is.

Maybe the sun will shine today.
The clouds will blow away.
Maybe I won’t feel so afraid.
I will try to understand
Either way.

Intangible

Pregnancy is full of little limbos.

For example, although the messages from my body are overwhelmingly full of “you are pregnant” information, and I peed on those two sticks that both said, “Yup. You’re knocked up” the reality of this pregnancy is still… elusive.

And that’s why I am looking forward to my first midwife appointment tomorrow. It’s the last thing they do, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about.

The heartbeat. Bud’s heartbeat.

I need to hear it; need to know that what I have been saying (based on the information I have to hand, including the fact that most of my pants don’t fit) is true. Is real. Tiny and growing.

This pregnancy is worrying to me for a lot of reasons, and I’ll get to those later. I’ve been hesitating over writing about them, primarily because my dad reads my blog, and if he knows I am worried, I worry that he will worry.

But hearing Bud’s heartbeat will comfort me. Maybe for an hour, or a day, or until my next appointment. Will take those worries and put them in perspective. This ride isn’t, after all, in my control for the most part. And the sound of Bud’s heart will remind of that but also tell me that it’s okay. That things will continue. That care of myself and faith will carry me, carry all of us.

Isn’t that something? That a small sound can do so much?

Behind

I have 2000 loads of laundry to do. My older daughter is completely out of pajamas. She wore a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to bed last night.

My dishwasher is still broken — rather: we haven’t gathered our resources to purchase a new dishwasher yet, and thus there are always dirty dishes in my sink.

And I don’t know if it’s pregnancy-nose or if something actually climbed down my garbage disposal and died.

I have cooked fresh food from scratch about three times in the past six weeks.

Once I hit that couch after work, it’s hard to not immediately lay down and fall asleep. As a matter of fact, last night I did just that (after feeding my children), and as a result, Flora ate three Simply Fruit rollups, and Kate demolished the living room.

If I don’t fall asleep after dinner, I am not long for the conscious world after the children are in their bedroom. Note: I usually fall asleep (on the couch) before the children. If and when they figure this out, we are in big trouble. Gotta start hiding the remotes. And the rollups, apparently.

When I do go up to bed, I sleep in the guest room. Our bedroom is a repository for clothing, both clean and dirty, and that’s about it. Clothes and dust.

It’s a good thing I pay most of my bills online, because I never — and I mean never — go through my mail. It just piles up and up and up until I start throwing it out (junk) and/or shred it (paid bills and credit card offers).

Last week, I forgot to pack a lunch for Kate.

I haven’t gone grocery shopping in three weeks. I did however make a list. And emailed it to Dan.

I lost the stamps.

My children and I have not gotten much in the way of fresh air lately in the evenings. Thank goodness they usually have outside time at daycare, and Flora has soccer. Of course, I would like to order up some nice weekend weather for a change instead of having to haul a fleece blanket for Kate and me to huddle under on Saturday at Flora’s games.

I will be in my second trimester in two to four weeks. It’ll get better then.

Right?

Verboten

Here are the Top 10 Things I will try not to Twitter about during this pregnancy. Actually, after this post, I will try not to blog about them either. But I make no promises on that later point.

10. The unrelenting nausea. I don’t know who coined the phrase “morning sickness”, but they were either very stupid or very optimistic. I am sick all day long, and nothing much really helps.

9. The overwhelming fatigue. I can’t remember the last time (not counting Lost nights) that I stayed up past 9-9:30. I usually pass out on the couch. My house is slowly crumbling around me because I cannot stay up to get shite done. Thank goodness for weekends, when I can a) sleep in, b) take a nap (also on the couch) and c) get caught up on the laundry.

8. The puking. Now, I puked once in each of my first trimesters. This time around, I have already outpaced that record — I’ve puked once for each of my pregnancies, and then some. I cannot express how much I am looking forward to week 12 (or week 14, like it was with Kate). I have my fingers crossed that this unrelenting nausea and attendant heaving/puking come to a stop.

7. I will say this one time: This baby was conceived directly on top of my bladder. Here I am, at 8 weeks along, unable to go very long without a restroom visit. And already waking up twice a night to pee. Joy.

6. Any and all sundry other oozy physical manifestations of pregnancy. No one (else) needs to know about all that. Read “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” for the terrifying details. Pregnancy isn’t all that pretty sometimes.

5. The fact that none of my clothes fit, already, and I’m not really sure what I have in terms of maternity wear. I need to get back on Freepeats.com and find some clothes. Because I’m not buying a whole new wardrobe for 30-some weeks. (Donations welcome.)

4. I will also only say this once: Potty-training a toddler and first trimester nausea do not mix. Especially when a Port-o-Potty is sometimes involved. But, hey, we are diaper-free until late November! Whoo-hoo!

3. This means I’m going to have a 3-year-old again someday. And he/she will need to be potty-trained. Hold me.

2. My frustration with people telling me that the unrelenting nausea is a good sign. According to “What to Expect” [dot] com, “…women who do experience some nausea are significantly less likely to miscarry than women who don’t experience any…”. That just doesn’t make me feel better — I mean, about the nausea. The only thing that makes me feel better is sleep. Of which I am not getting enough.

1. Lastly, I will strive to not tweet about the various aches/pains/discomforts that this pregnancy is sure to bring. I am in the worst shape of my adult life, plus I’m pushing a certain round age that starts with 4 and ends in not-9. I’m already having some alarming twinges that will only increase in frequency as this baby gets bigger. I should probably go find a pregnancy chiropractor now. And develop a recovery/exercise plan for after the baby is born. I will need to get my muscle tone back, and fast.

I cannot thank you all enough for the kind words and congratulations on yesterday’s post (and at Twitter). All I ask now is that you pray for us and a successful outcome to this pregnancy. I know that’s all Dan and I want.

Also, I will try not to blog obsessively about being pregnant, but I don’t know how that’s going to go. Pregnancy is all-consuming — trust me. And I have a lot of issues vis-a-vis pregnancy, many of them, frankly, not so cheery. But there will be high points, too, and in the meantime, Flora and Kate will continue to grow and change and do goofy stuff and say goofy things that I can report. I’ll post more about music and books and Lost. So don’t give up on me.