Baby Valiente

Did you know that I’m pregnant?  I am, and very excited about it too. We announced this on Facebook after our 8 week ultrasound and I’ve talked about being pregnant about 100 times on FB, but I haven’t put anything here. It’s been a busy summer and a busy September and I just haven’t written about it here. Can we pretend this is actually a few months of posts, instead of just one? I’ve started this post about 20 times and nothing I write ever seems to convey how excited I am.

This week, on Thursday, I will be 22 weeks. I found out I was pregnant at 5 weeks. We had done everything right that month so I just took a test on the day I was due to start. Sure enough, I got a nice little plus sign that morning. I climbed into bed with the Yankee and work him, then whispered, “I’m pregnant” into his ear. He woke up very quickly after that. As you do, I took three more tests over the next week.

 

I felt the baby move at 17 weeks, which was pretty cool. I don’t feel the baby every day, but I do feel movement, kicks, and pressure most days, especially at night.

 

We found out at 20 weeks that the baby is a Girl. We are going to name her Emily Louise. I had a feeling for a long time that it was a girl. I found all these little “test” you can do to figure out the gender. My favorite test was this one: apparently if you pee on baking soda and it fizzes, it’s a boy. If it’s flat, it’s a girl.

 

My pregnancy has been smooth and uneventful. I didn’t have morning sickness and most days I have felt like myself. A tired and hungry version of myself.  I get heartburn a lot these days and I normally take about 6 tums throughout the day, which manages it. I do have a very hard time sleeping most nights. I am a back sleeper, which most doctors recommend you avoid. I hate sleeping on my side and having a huge belly makes it even more uncomfortable. We’re going to buy a recliner tonight to see if that helps me find a better position.

 

I haven't decided if I'll be posting any photos here. Probably not.

A Very Valiente Book Review

"Need a bit more simple in your life but unsure where to start? "

Last month I was a aprt of a book launch team for Simple Living – 30 days to less stuff and more life. This book was written by a blogger I like, Lorilee Lippincott, who write Loving Simple Living.

 

Lorilee and her family practice minimalism, which I admire and desire. Even if minimalism isn't exactly your goal, this is  still a great book for anyone who wants to pare down and simplify. if minimalism IS your goal, first, please email me because I really want to talk to you; second, this is a great resource for really assessing why you own what you own and why you choose what you choose. It's a 30 day primer with practical ideas for streamlining and organizing. This is not FlyLady, whom I do love, and Lorilee even states that this is not a book for housecleaning. It's more like a book for putting away, giving away, clearing away. It's not a "get rid of all your stuff and you'll be happy"; it's an "I tried this and it worked and here's why it made me happy." The book gives you a small job to do for 30 days- things like clearing your counters and creating a system to make donating/purging things easy to do.

 

The book is $2.99 on Amazon for Kindle and you can buy it in PDF format if you have a nook (I do) or don't own an e-reader. How stinkin' great is that price?! $2.99! That's less than a latte (btw, have you tried the salted caramel mocha from Starbucks? Because it's fantastic).

 

Take a look, give it a read- I think you're really going to like the ideas.

Right about now, I'm flipping my shit

So the Yankee and I am all "babies babies babies" lately. We talk about babies a lot in this house- making them, trying not to break them, ideas for parenting strategies, missing our people- all kinds of things related to babies and baby-making.

 

Last night as we were drifting off to sleep, I had a few thoughts string together that made me kind of panic a little bit. My questions about babies is this: what the heck do you DO with them? Like one day one, home from the hospital- you bring them home, all cute and snuggly and then what? On day 25, you wake up, get some coffee, and then what? If they aren't mobile, what they heck do they do all day? I know there are feedings and diapers and naps and all, but then what? How many times can you force tummy time on them? How many books do you read to a little being that can't really see and doesn't know how to do many things?

 

I am still engaged in a fight to the death with my weight. To date, I have lost and gained the same three or four pounds and accomplished as many workouts. Tomorrow starts a new week and I am really, really, really determined to work out at least twice next week. I am also really, really, really determined to eat well. I have to go back to see my doctor at the end of the month and I am afraid to show her my food journal. I do find myself choosing healthier items because I don't want to be judged for my choices. Last time, she told me to cut soy and candy bars, as well as processed foods. She also said that if I want a candy bar, I should eat dried fruit instead. Well I can tell you that I have eaten the fruit AND the candy bars on some days. I mean, dried apricots aren't exactly an acceptable substitute for a 3 Musketeers, are they?

 

So this week we are starting with a fresh meal plan posted on the fridge, complete with snack ideas and breakfast committments. We're trying some new recipes, including one that includes escarole, which I don't think I have ever had. I am really, really REALLY trying to eat more whole (one ingredient) foods, instead of processed junk. I plan to eat quinoa instead of white rice and lots of vegetables this week. I am doing pretty well at reducing my coffee intake and (except for the candy bars) doing very well at reducing sugar. Cheeseburgers.... not so much.

 

Feel free to confront me if you see me eating a candy bar this week. But please don't ask if I'd rather have the candy bar or a baby, because that's not fair.

A Very Valiente Thought on My Mind

Here's something I have been thinking about:
     It is not my responsibility to ensure that I am not treated offensively
     It is not my responsibility to get even or confront the person with their own behavior
     It IS my responsibility to control my behavior. reaction, and where I choose to let my thoughts   
       dwell

So that's pretty simple, isn't it?

Do you ever do this: dwell on past arguments or offenses, rehashing what you should have said, and then predicting what that person would have said in response, going back and forth, getting all worked up and fiesty inside? My mother says that when you're doing that, you're having a conversation with a person when they aren't in the room. Then the next time you interact with that person, you kind of emotionally vomit all over them, spilling at that theoretical rage their way.

Sometimes when I am washing the dishes, my mind goes to my past haunts and I get all bent out of shape over the past. It happens at work too. And all of a sudden I find myself stewing and I seriously hate feeling that way. I hate feeling so much anxiety with no viable outlet. I hate that I spend my time rehashing things in the past or preparing my defenses against some un-suspecting co-worker. I don't like holding on to all that junk.

I like this verse from Ecclesiastes:

Don't eavesdrop on the conversation of others.
What if the gossip's about you and you'd rather not hear it?
You've done that a few times, haven't you—said things
Behind someone's back you wouldn't say to his face?

Throughout my life and throughout the Bible, I've been given peice after piece of advice about not getting offended and not taking things personally. And many times I actually do pretty well at that. But sometimes I don't. Sometimes things catch me off guard, or I try to avoid confrontation and instead my moodiness just sits inside me. Sometimes I have a case of the Mondays even on a Wednesday.

Seems pretty simple- and yet, perhaps it's just easier said than done. But those three lines at the top of this entry kind of came into my mind on Saturday and they have been stuck there like gum in hair. And you know, it's really been a helpful little thing to repeat to myself. It's a bit more helpful for me to repeat this to myself than to take a bunch of deep breaths.

Feel free to confront me if you hearing me sighing in an excessive way. That's a sure sign that I am bent out of shape about something.

Babies...

I want to have babies, badly. I love the Yankee so much and want to create something tangible that's a little bit of both of us. I want to be directly responsible for rearing a little life and trying very hard to craft a happy, productive member of society. It's an odd thing: when you announce to whomever you tend to make announcements to that you are going to start trying to have a baby, the underlying message is that you are your partner plan to have copious amounts of sex on a regular basis. No one seems to acknowledge this, but it's the truth, isn't it?

Heh, my mom doesn't really read my blog so I'm not worried about what kind of thoughts that might give her :)

So we're all ready to start trying this fall. October is officially our baby month, so if you'd like to schedule anything and I say no, please know that I am too busy doing what pleases the Lord :) For this reason, I went to see a doctor to just make sure all of my equipment is functioning regularly- only to find out that I have PCOS. So my body is currently making too many "male" hormones (that MUST be the reason for all of my scandalous and innapropriate jokes!). One of the most tangible side-effects of this condition is that making babies can be difficult. As in the conceiving part.

At one point in my life, I was clinically obese- as in a BMI of over 35- and was in a kind of pre-PCOS state. At thats point in my life, my doctor said that if I could manage to get pregnant, I would have in be on bed rest the entire time and inject myself with blood thinners. No thanks. So I lost 65 pounds and thought I had escaped the beast, but it turns out I didn't.

I am still trying to decide how I feel about all of this. I get a bit weepy and pouty sometime, but most of the time I just resolve to make a plan and attack.  The typical first step to treating PCOS is to lose weight, if you have weight to lose. I am still overweight, although not even close to where I was. I hate working out- I mean I HATE working out. And yet I know that it will make such a difference when paired with a healthy, reasonable, sustainable diet. But seriously y'all, if you gave me a choice between a filling and a workout, I'm really not sure which one I would choose.

This is the motivating thought that I keep coming back to: I have loved my babies for years, even though I don't have them yet. I think about what kind of mother I'd like to be and various strategies for dealing with random baby-ish things and I feel love in my heart for little ones that I am still dreaming of. I wholly believe that I will do many things for my children and because of them; if this is what I have to do to create them, to have a shot at holding my beloved little dream-babies in my arms, then this is what I will do.

If I need to lose 30 pounds and stop drinking coffee- I will. If I need to get used to darn old Tony Horton every morning- I will. If I have to incorporate more discipline into my life- I will. Because I really want to be a mother and I really want to carry and birth my own happy, healthy, bi-racial, potentially sassy, hopefully-not-too-wierd children.

But I still hate excercise. Really y'all... HATE IT.

So tonight I am a Happy Girl and by Tuesday I predict I will be a sore girl....