the expanse of my uterus knows no bounds
i’m thinking the title of this post would serve as a decent tagline for a blog. not mine. i like my tagline. but for you? or you? take it. it’s up for grabs, mommybloggers!
seriously though, my uterus is ENORM. fo realz. my doctor’s appointment this week taught me about the “trend” amongst those of us blessed mothers who birth larger than average babies. apparently with each subsequent pregnancy, the wee fetus gets competitive and *may* outgrow their previously born sibling. at this stage in the game, pickle is outweighing what her brother weighed. she is just over 5 lbs and in the 89th percentile for size. according to my doctor, she is “showing the vital signs of a full term baby,” though i am at 32 weeks (full term is 37 weeks). and… with me at 32 weeks, pickle is measuring in at 34 weeks. so, carry the 2 and divide by pi, and she is 2 weeks ahead of schedule.
what does all this math and gestational discourse mean? i dunno. there was talk of her arriving early. there was talk about the beating that her long and large body is inflicting upon mine. there were words like macrosomia thrown about. but all i could focus on was being told what a healthy baby i have growing in my body. and that, my friends, is something to celebrate.
(now, before you go all ZOMG YOU HAVE GESTATIONAL DIABETES AND PREECLAMPSIA AND YOU’RE MORBIDLY OBESE AND HARMING YOUR FETUS because you clicked that link above and freaked yourself out, let me assure you, i am none of these things. i did not have gestational diabetes with jackson nor do i have it now. i am not currently showing signs of preeclampsia. and i am not morbidly obese, though what i have seen in the latest victoria’s secret commercials may show otherwise. EAT A SAMMICH, LADIES! anyway, what i am is larger than the average chica. and, as we well know, paul is larger than the average sasquatch. thus far, i’ve gained just over 18 pounds with this pregnancy, and aside from sciatic nerve pain and recent migraines, this has been a fairly uneventful pregnancy for me. sometimes BIG babies happen, my friends. and you bypass purchasing the newborn clothes.)
in other news, i think it’s safe to say that i’ll never look at another pickle jar the same way ever again. and i’m ok with that. while skyping with my family a few nights ago, i learned that there is a jar at mom and dads’ house reserved for teeny slips of paper that have names on them. names that my parents and my brother have submitted as possible pickle names. they cannot stop guessing what paul and i have chosen to name miss pickle. and when they told me this, my heart SWELLED with delight (and not just because i’m certain that none of them have the name right).
something incredible about pregnancy that i don’t think i took note of when i was pregnant with jackson is the occasional PAUSE that you’re given. as the one who is carrying the beloved fetus, i am finding moments in my day where i PAUSE and gain a bit of perspective, a lightbulb turning ON, perhaps a warm-fuzzy, the shedding of a single tear, because it hits me that what is happening in my body and the subsequent reactions and behaviors from others is so beyond the cool things one can imagine for oneself.
(yes, i realize that is the longest run-on sentence in the history of all non-sentences.)
i had one of these moments of PAUSE when my silly family told me about their pickle jar. the extent of their involvement and excitement in preparation for meeting this little lady hit me like a mack truck.
i had one of these moments of PAUSE a few nights ago, when i watched paul and jackson have an in-depth conversation about superheroes and jackson had the realization that SIBLINGS ARE EVERYWHERE.
“that’s loki. he’s thor’s brother.”
“THOR HAS A BRUDDER?!?!?!”
“yeah bud.”
“MOM! THOR HAS A BRUDDER!”
these moments of PAUSE are coming more frequently as this pregnancy is coming to a close. perhaps it’s because we are saying hello to pickle in the near future… perhaps it’s all of the emotions and hormones and FEEEEEEEELINGS. either way, i am grateful for those moments. they bring about a sense of contentment that i want to remember forever.
in other news, i’ve been mentioned as a funny mom, alongside many other funny moms. if you peak over at my right sidebar, underneath where it says “NOT SANTORUM,” you can click on the little “vote for me” badge and show me some love once a day until march 21st. it’s always nice to be recognized for the silly stuff you do. thanks to circle of moms for the nod.
the stuff i do not want to forget
it’s starting to set in that these last few weeks before i give birth are our last few weeks as a family of 3. i’ve thought about that concept, but i don’t think it’s really sunk in until recently. and even now, i’m still uncertain it’s really hit me.
as a result of this revelation, both paul and i have been spending extra time reading to jackson before putting him to bed. relishing the time that is still just us. cuddling more. rocking off to the land of slumber.
“and now we can snuggle more?”
“yes baby, we can snuggle some more.”
and then i adjust myself in the rocker, large and round with baby, and jackson wraps himself around me and his little sister, breathes deeply, and asks me questions…
“does pickle come out of your belly soon? like tomorrow?”
“do the pelicans live here too, or just at gigi’s house?”
“how come there’s no school on sunday?”
“when does daddy fly his plane far away?”
“will your belly get much bigger?
we rock and sing and breathe together. my favorite times are shortly after his bath, when he smells like aveeno and is still damp with water and suds.
soft skin. even softer voices.
and then the not-so-soft jab from the child in my belly, the one who hears her brother’s questions and pokes and kicks to answer them herself.
she responds to the boys in a way that i don’t quite know how to put into words. it’s something that i feel happening in my body, but when i try to describe to them how she moves when she hears them, i’m at a loss. it is more incredible than i am capable of conveying.
this morning, at my doctor’s appointment, she heard paul talking to me. we tossed out numbers, guessing her estimated fetal weight. i guessed 14 lbs. paul laughed out loud.
then i felt her entire body shift to my left side. towards her dad.
late at night, when the day is done, and there’s a slice of time spent on just paul and i, we chat and his hand is on my belly. we think it’s just the two of us talking and laughing, but it’s not. with paul’s hand on my belly, she finds him and kicks.
he moves his fingers. tap tap taps. she plays back. he laughs. he talks. she responds.
and i feel it all.
it’s like she wakes up when she hears his voice.
and i know what that feels like. so i smile.
“mommy, does pickle start with P?”
“will green be her favorite color too?”
“can i hold her with my hands?”
“mom, can she come to my birthday?”
all bag
my brother is a terrific golfer, and my dad… is a terrific sport. he may not be the greatest at the game, but he is the greatest at genuinely enjoying playing with his son who is great at the game. the two of them have been walking 18 together for years, taking in different courses, swinging clubs in the fresh air. it’s a sport that bonds the two of them.
years back, the guys came home from a day of golfing and taught me a term that i have yet to forget. and these days, i am finding that term to be an accurate description of myself.
i remember dad and b coming home, setting their clubs in the garage alongside their shoes, smelling of sunshine and sweat, laughing about nothing and everything. they updated mom and i about their day, how they each played… a bogey here. a birdie there. and then my dad said something about one of the gentlemen he happened to notice while on the course. this man was not playing in their foursome, but he was certainly someone who captured the attention of my dad.
and in the words of my dad, this man was “all bag.”
my brother laughed as my dad described in detail the amount of gear this particular golfer had. from head to toe, he was decked out as though he were a walking sponsorship. the golf bag itself was pristine, clubs were not only top-notch, but immaculate as well. dad even described the golf towels this gentleman used. ball markers and golf tees that cost more than your average pair of sneakers.
but this guy’s golf game? SUCKED. he had all of the equipment he could possibly need to look like a pro/semi-pro athlete. unfortunately for him, he lacked all skill and natural ability to hit the ball.
he was “all bag.”
as the years have come and gone, i’ve listened to my dad and brother occasionally use this term to describe various people in different circumstances, not all sports-related. i’ve come to use the term myself, and eventually taught paul its meaning. everyone in my family gets a small chuckle out of referring to someone as being “all bag.”
and now it’s hit me that over the past 2 weeks particularly, i am the one who is “all bag.”
i am prepping for this baby’s arrival with gusto, purchasing what items we need, storing away things we don’t need, ridding our home of clutter. i have scheduled and started swim lessons for jackson to keep him busy during paul’s deployment, kept our lovely babysitter/nanny no further away than an arms length just in case. paul and i are laminating a world map for jackson to have in his room with a family picture over the state of florida and then a picture of his dad where he will be deployed to. the two of us are indulging in a weekend away soon, with mom watching jackson, so that we can have time alone.
i am doing all of the things i am “supposed to be” doing in preparation for my husband’s deployment and the arrival of our second child. there is no part of this preparation that has not already been considered. no rock will go unturned.
and with all of this effort, all of this STUFF, i am turning more and more into a basket case with each passing day. i’m keeping my emotions at bay as i continue to prep and make lists. some days i can distract myself easily, stay busy, get out of my house and engage. and other days, even when i do those things, i find myself needed an extra few minutes hiding in a public restroom while i fight off one of multiple panic attacks.
the tears are always RIGHT THERE, with their release being caused by the simplest of things… a smile from jackson, a kiss on the forehead from paul, a stranger holding a door open for me.
it doesn’t matter how many times before i have said goodbye to paul and watched him go. this time, i’m saying goodbye to him with children… one holding my hand and the other kicking my insides.
HOW DO THESE MEN AND WOMEN IN UNIFORM DO IT?
all the logic in the world that we are using to keep ourselves grounded can’t seem to fight off my current emotional state. all the preparation, planning, and check lists can’t get me truly ready for this spring.
i am all bag. putting on a good show for most, and being true to a select few and trusted folks… paul… my parents… my brother… and now, the internet.
it’s funny, some people can’t seem to understand WHY people blog. what would possess someone to share, at times, some very intimate details of their lives with a bunch of strangers? and i don’t know how to answer those questions. i don’t know the correct way to respond to that. all i know is that it feels right for me, and in times of desperation and heartache, sometimes i need to reach out and simply trust that someone, anyone, will be on the receiving end and hold my hand for a while. and then i promise to return the favor.
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as always, a continued THANK YOU to those of you sending your love and support during this time. also, a note about my anxiety for those concerned… my OBGYN is aware of our unique situation with this baby being born while her daddy is deployed and what that does to my brain. i am being well taken care of.
a place of calm
when we were young(er), grossly in love, swoony high school kids on spring break or summer vacation, paul and i referred to mornings spent sans shower, in the sand, splashing amongst waves, slathered in sunscreen and sunkissed with doses of vitamin D as being ‘beachy fresh.’
one thing he and i have always shared is a true love for all things beach related. if we could, he and i would spend our days raising kids in a smallish beach bungalow, windows always open, drunk on salty air and sunshine. bob marley in the background and the squawk of seagulls. sand would litter the kitchen floor.
i took 397 photographs last weekend, while at gigi’s (my gramma) beach house. three hundred and ninety seven (i know, there should be a hyphen somewhere but i can’t remember where because i’m too focused on the enormity of that number). for those of you who are photographers and much more savvy when it comes to picture taking than i, this probably sounds menial to you. for me, it’s like HOW MANY SHOTS OF MY SON’S SANDY SHADOW CAN I TAKE? oh, i can take 397 thankyouverymuch.
yesterday, in an attempt to upload these photos and tinker with them, i nearly crashed my laptop (yes, i have an external hard drive, and no, i’m not totally certain on how to use it but i’m learning). it dawned on me as i was chatting with gigi on the phone last night, telling her the number of photos she can expect in the mail in the coming weeks, that our family of (almost 4) three really NEEDED that weekend.
we needed a sanctuary. we needed to be somewhere that held deep meaning to both paul and i. somewhere jackson had been to once before and will return to many more times in his future…
one of these next times, of course, with his little sister. he will have the opportunity to show her the beach and teach her about our love of all things slow, quiet, and relaxing. the sand. the waves. the sounds. the sun. he will be able to do this in the same ways that we have passed it along to him.
monday would have been my grandfather’s 80th birthday. he and jackson share a middle name, ray. being with gigi this weekend brought up a lot of fond memories, delicious cheesecake, a few tears but mostly laughter. as jackson approaches the age of 4, his understanding of his family members, both living and deceased, amazes me. children are so smart and open.
we were blessed with glorious weather and jackson treated the end of january as though it were the fourth of july. when it was time to say ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ to his gigi, this little one rested in the only way that a child worn out from a love affair with the beach can… with reckless abandon and an abundance of drool.
more photos to come, i promise. first, i need to shake the sand out of my clothes.
also, to those of you who have left sweet messages, comments, and emails to let us know that you’re thinking of us as we prepare to say goodbye to paul, THANK YOU. truly. your kindness does not go unnoticed.
savoring the sweet
for some reason, it seems to be universally understood that when a ‘goodbye’ is approaching, people start to cling to what’s familiar and to one another. we should do that more. regardless of whether or not we’re preparing to say goodbye to someone, we should do that more. more family walks by the river. more snuggles and snacks. more making time for each other. for what’s important.
because when it comes time to say those goodbyes, the time you had is never enough.
we are heading to my gramma’s house at the beach this weekend for our last getaway as a family of three. our last getaway as a family before paul leaves. driving a few hours south to rest and relax oceanside is just what we need right now. sand and surf await us. and naps. plenty of naps.
Have a Sip
