Feeling Silly

You've probably heard that I'm pregnant. Woohoo! It... is different than my pregnancy with Amelia. Just the last week has convinced me of this.

Now, I remember the Baby Alpha pregnancy (a.k.a Amelia). You may not, though, so here is the recap:

At first, the only reason I knew I was pregnant was because I'd had a nice positive pregnancy test on Christmas Day 2011, smack dab on the 4-week mark. I had some annoying, but not major nausea at 5 weeks. And THEN I got quite sick at 7 weeks. It got progressively worse and I started getting sick enough at 12 weeks that I had to run out of patient appointments to vomit... and sometimes I didn't make it. And so then I'd have to clean up a vomitous mess. At this point I was expecting the nausea to go away any time now, because that's when most pregnancy nausea starts to go away. At 14 weeks, Elder Holland came for stake conference and I vomited throughout his talk. It sounded like a nice talk, but I'll admit I was not feeling particularly spiritually receptive at the time. At 15 weeks, I had so much difficulty even keeping down water that I needed IV hydration so that I didn't die. At 16 weeks, the nausea let up. A little. I wasn't dying anymore.  19 weeks: sick some more. Only now I have small amounts of Zofran, so sometimes I'm okay. 20 weeks: I ran out of Zofran and insurance wouldn't pay for more, so I'm dying again. Also, I found out that Amelia was female. 23 weeks: still sick. 25 weeks: I vomit on airplanes. 27 weeks: soooper sick. 28 weeks: not sick, except when in un-air-conditioned rooms. 30 weeks: I start acupuncture for nausea. It helps a little, but I am still sick. 34 weeks: less sick, but still sick. 37 weeks: still sick.

38 weeks: Amelia shows up, and my nausea finally goes away the instant that placenta comes out. Yuck.

I'm about 4.5 weeks right now with Baby Delta. The main difference I've noticed is how much earlier I've noticed pregnancy symptoms than I think any pregnancy symptoms have a right to be noticed... and how much more intense they are than I think they should be (for how early it is). 

I started feeling pregnant at around 3.5 weeks... that's less than two weeks after ovulation. At that early point, pregnancy symptoms should be outlawed. I took a pregnancy test, and I was shocked at how dark it was. Baby Delta is pumping out plenty of HCG, that's for sure.

And, seriously, at 3.5 weeks I should not be able to complain about being sick. Or heartburn, or bloating, or food aversions, or breast tenderness (or that matter, breasts that are suddenly making more milk and already look bigger than they did a week before... what the...?! what is my body up to?!), or frequent urination, or mood swings, or evil headaches, or terrible fatigue, or acne (I haven't had a problem for months until now). I didn't feel like this until weeks later with Amelia.

On the plus side, the one thing I am most paranoid about--nausea--is not so bad. So far. I am forced to call it rather pleasant nausea compared to what I remember dealing with. In the mornings, I usually wake up a few hours before I actually want to because I am feeling so yucky. But I can eat, even if things sound nasty. And I can keep down as much water as I like (glory, hallelujah!). And I haven't actually vomited yet. The worst I've had is a small mouthful of throw up when bending down to pick up Destructobot's latest destruction masterpiece. And the majority of the day, I don't feel sick at all.

Now we get to the part where I explain why I've titled this post "Feeling Silly". I've been so excited to get pregnant, and the second thing I think upon discovered the positive pregnancy test was... "Oh no... What if it's twins?" (The first thought was "Oh, look. It's quite positive.")

I secretly pride myself on being able to logically comb out my thoughts and not take irrational ideas seriously. For some reason, this particular irrational idea won't leave me alone. I can't dismiss it like I usually do. Therefore, not only do I feel majorly freaked out, but I also feel majorly silly for being so freaked out.

I didn't have this problem when I discovered I was pregnant with Amelia, or the two pregnancies I miscarried, so why am I so freaked out now? Despite rumors to the contrary, I am not psychic. And well, I suppose some people who get pregnant with twins do get a early, dark line on their pregnancy test, and I suppose some of them also start feeling pregnancy symptoms earlier and more intensely... but seriously, plenty of women pregnant with singletons have these same things happen to them. So really, I have absolutely ZERO evidence to indicate that Baby Delta is actually Baby Delta AND Baby Epsilon.

But has that stopped me from worrying about it?

No, of course not.

It didn't help that one the first things James said when he found out I was pregnant was... "Twins?"

I responded, "SHUT UP."

He said, "Don't you have twins on your side of the family?"

"Yes. SHUT UP." I do. I have two aunts (both of which I am actually related to) who have twins, and as far as I know, at least one pair was indeed spontaneous (i.e. no fertility treatments involved). James doesn't have twins in his family, but of course, that doesn't matter... genetically-speaking.

Actually, I suppose, in thinking about it, I had a funky feeling about twins many months ago. I read a book about them and confirmed that I never, ever wanted two babies at once. I also told myself that since I read the book, I had just guaranteed that I'd never have to use any of the information inside it. (Shhh. I'm still trying to tell myself that the universe works like this.)

Besides the fact that the idea of twins in and of itself is rather compelling, if I had to propose the real reason I have this funky feeling... it is this. I had a ridiculously difficult pregnancy with Amelia. The birth was a bit rough. Amelia screamed for her first six months of life. She turns out to be a destructobaby, so we are forced to babyproof far more than most parents I've observed. 

There had to be some secret purpose for all this, right? Aha! Jenna's brain thinks the following: What could this possibly be preparing me for? I can't think of any healthy-baby scenarios that would be more difficult than what Amelia put me through. So... Oh no! I am being prepared for twins! Woe! Calamity! Disaster! And honestly, I can't think of a better preparation for it.

In a desperate attempt earlier this week to assure myself that Baby Epsilon is years away, I turned to prayer. It wasn't all that helpful. I imagined God facepalming up there, then putting on a mischievous grin and saying, Twins wouldn't be all that bad, Jenna. Now triplets... that'd be bad for you. And I shuddered in my mind just thinking about triplets.

I felt better after that. Mostly I kept saying to myself. "Not twins. Not twins. Not twins. Not twins. And if it is, that's okay. They're not triplets. Not twins. Not twins. NOT TWINS. NOT TWINS!"

Love and a singleton (NOT TWINS.),

Jenna and Baby Delta (NOT Baby Epsilon)

P.S. Ugh, and today Amelia has been a beast. She woke up in the morning and then screamed into my ear for two hours straight. She jammed the printer with a ripped-out board-book page. She pulled all our apples off the table, took one small bite out of each, and bruised the living daylights out of them. She climbed up the sofa and pulled all the CDs and DVDs off the shelves. She decided to pull out all the contents of a brand new floss container. She screams constantly about being hungry, and when I do get her something to eat, she smears it into her hair instead of eating it. She keeps climbing on top of a table that I keep pulling her off of and she screams bloody murder each time I do. She keeps purposely ramming her head into the wall (hard), and then saying "ow" and bursting into dramatic tears. And the house is filthy. It was clean last night. Yes, I have burst into tears.

P.P.S. I feel even more silly now that I've written down the silly thoughts in my head. I hope you enjoy how ridiculous they are.

Cold, Dark, and Wet

So Oregon weather has really been a shock to my system. I've actually been completely shocked at how badly it's affected me. Apparently I thrive in a warm, sunny, non-wet environment. Unfortunately, I don't do so well in sweltering arid heat either. So. I don't know where we're eventually going to end up living, but I am starting to wonder what the chances are that I will like it right off the bat. I suspect that relatively soon my doctor is going to send me in search of one of those super-bright, super-expensive anti-seasonal-affective-disorder lights. (I hope not. I'd rather spend the moolah on bookshelves.)

I feel like I'm actually doing much better than I could be. I decided early on to allow myself to dislike the cold, dark, and wet. I felt that in my current emotional state it would be unwise to try and force myself to not be bothered by it. I knew I would almost certainly have a very tough time moving back to Oregon. I also knew that if I forced myself to pretend like I was happy about it, I think what would end up happening is this: I would feel like I had failed when I ended up feeling depressed even to a small degree. And then I would feel guilty about this "failure", and then I would be more depressed. Emotions are weird things, and I know, logically, that shouldn't make any sense, but I think that is what would happen.

So what I've done instead is decide that a less than favorable response is perfectly normal and understandable given my situation, that I'll just have to get through this difficult time, and then later things will be okay. And I think this tactic is working out all right for me.

James, I think, has a different model of brain than I do. At one point, he told me he felt like I didn't want to be happy because when he said something like, "You should just be happy!", I said, "Shut up! Let me mope and stuff!" If just being happy works for you, that's wonderful. It totally backfires for me. If I try to push aside strong emotions, they fester, explode later, and then I also explode, and it is bad news.

So... I guess what I'm trying to say is... Look at me! I'm moping! Isn't that great? I'm dealing with my emotions instead of crumbling to pieces! This is a mighty feat!

I don't think I've ever heard anyone else say that they feel like moping or crying actually helps them feel better faster. I don't think I'm the only one. I theorize that this is just socially unacceptable. Or something. Maybe partially because saying something like, "Let me be sad! It'll make me happy!", seems on the surface to makes absolutely no sense. Maybe instead I should have explained it like, "I have to deal with being sad so I can stop being sad sooner." Yes. That makes more sense. That's what I should have said in the first place.

Wow. This has turned into a much longer explanation of my current emotional state than I thought it was going to be.

Moving on.

Yay! I'm decorating my apartment! By some miracle we somehow ended up with lots of Christmas money, much of which was intended specifically for me to decorate our new apartment with. To everyone who contributed to that fund, THANK. YOU.

I've been astonished at how much my environment impacts how I feel on a day-to-day basis. I kind of knew this before, but I don't think I truly got it. I used to have to beg for months and months and months for something for the apartment, but now I have converted the James. I had to beg for a rug for our hard-floor apartment. Before we got it, James thought we didn't need one. Now he says... yeah, it was probably a good idea. Even now in our carpeted apartment, it is nice to have. I also told him I wanted a couch cover. He said... whatever for? But last night he was trying to think why he hadn't realized what a good idea a couch cover is for a family with small children. When Amelia goops it... washing machine!

Beautifying our home is actually doing marvellous things for my mood. I don't feel like turning around and running when I walk into our apartment. It's great. Of course, we are still lacking a few things, namely a kitchen table and chairs as well as bookshelves.

We are for sure going to build wall shelves, and we're going to need lots in order to house all our books. As I explained last time, that will cost us an estimated $400-$500 if we want to make enough shelves for all our books, and they have to be high up on the wall so that Amelia doesn't climb them and destroy herself. So... we have to wait a month or more so that we have those moneys.

Meanwhile, our apartment is acceptably beautified. Yay! As I mentioned, having a clean, uncluttered, pretty, unclaustrophobic place to live in is surprisingly helpful in combatting my depression and anxiety. I always knew it was important for me, but I think I might even have underestimated its importance. I mean, I guess I've never lived in a place like that, so I suppose it would have been hard to realize how emotionally helpful it'd be, but still. So again, thank you. I spent all your moneys gleefully.

Also, our apartment is getting increasingly babyproofed. We finally magnetically locked a few cabinets. You can't get in without a key... unless you wanted to hire a few strongmen and just rip the door off. James also secured our three dressers to the wall. I now foresee no squooshed Amelias in the near future. All important documents are in a locked filing cabinet, and just in time, too.

Amelia has been doing all right. She... is a mini tornado. But I think she's doing all right. She has rather suddenly begun to sign with us. She uses the sign for potty now, though I can only recall once that she used it when she wasn't already on the pot... and that was when she had already begun soiling her diaper. Still, it is progress. Amelia also uses a sign for bird, and duck, and monkey.

And, call me crazy, but I'm certain Amelia appreciates the decorations in our apartment as much as or more than I do. She delights in the photos on the wall. She points to them, and says, "Meemee!" and "Beebee!" They give her joy.

I'm not certain this part isn't just me being crazy, but I'm starting to wonder if having a decorated room is helping her sleep without me. I got a whole bunch of dollar store wall stickers of cute animals and stuck them on her walls, primarily around her bed. There's a fantastically cute sea monster. There're jungle animals like lions, tigers, monkeys, rhinoceroses, elephants... all over the walls. And ten million butterflies.

Since putting up the decorations, James tells me that she just looks at the animals and points at them while falling asleep rather than screaming herself to exhaustion. (He goes in there and lies next to her to help her fall asleep.) And I haven't heard her screaming on the way to sleep or in the middle of the night since I put the animals up. Of course, I don't have many data points, but still. I think I'm on to something. Friendly room equals friendly sleeping environment? If I had known $5 would have made such a difference...

Huh. So I guess the entirety of this post could be summarized as follows: Guess what, guys? I am almost, but not quite depressed! Yuss! I'm doing so well with this move. Be proud of me.

Love and not-depression,
Jenna

Back to Springfield

Sooooo... I'm in Springfield. It's cold, dark, and wet here, so I am less than excited about it.
I do, however, do like my apartment. It has a nice layout and doesn't feel cramped or claustrophobic. I am super excited to decorate it. Here are a couple decorations I am particularly proud of.

This one was a dollar store wall sticker and I had the brilliant idea to put it on the mirror.

This one... well, I don't actually have any cherished memories associated with masks. Yet. Maybe I'll have James take me to a masquerade ball later this decade.

We've been planning to install wall-mounted bookshelves for all our books, since bookcases have been disastrous with Amelia. And since we're only at the beginning of our baby-making careers, we thought it'd be an excellent idea to have our books living high up out of reach for the next decade or so. Baby-proof shelving would be just awesome.

Only we have a ton of books. All these boxes are full of books.

We'd need about 50-60 feet of shelving. And adding up the lumber, heavy-duty wall brackets, and screws... that's like $400 right there. And if I did it the way I really wanted to and got a couple decorative wall brackets (for all eight shelves) to use as bookends, that's another $100. We got quite a lot of Christmas money, but do we really want to spend it ALL on shelves? Yuck.

We'll see.

Love and books,
Jenna