Microraptor. Augh, Microraptor. The kid throws epic dance parties already. I am so doomed. We find out if the kid is a boy or a girl next Thursday, the 22nd. If it is a girl, I will almost certainly name her Abigail Joy. For those of you not particularly fluent in ancient Hebrew, Abigail means joy, so it's a rather redundant name. But, Microraptor already smacks of happiness. I don't know. I can just tell. That thing in there is happy and energetic, so Abigail Joy would be a great name for her. I don't have any idea what to call a happy, energetic boy.
Amelia is getting smarter and smarter. I'm not quite sure what to share about that, though. I still suspect she's just smart within normal limits, but... Well, just often enough, she does or says something that gets me wondering. Like last week, she pulled out a bottle of face wash that said "TopCare" on it. She pointed at it and said, "Top!" ...even though I've never read the words on it to her. (Maybe James did?) Ah, coincidence. Merely coincidence, I tell myself. But I find myself thinking these words to myself disturbingly often.
She has a definite interest in art/drawing/writing. Many of you saw the video I posted on Facebook less than a week ago. She has progressed and can kind of make a b, but you have to look for a... roundish thing attached to a straightish thing. She is also intently practicing coloring within the lines. Her skill with a crayon looks remarkably similar to a random three-year-old-from-church's skill with a crayon, so I would definitely count this as one of her special interests.
Anyway, I bought her some big fat (and washable!) crayons many, many months ago... She went through a phase where she loved them, and drew on EVERYTHING with them (thank goodness they're washable). Her current phase is details, details, details. The finer the tip on the writing utensil, the better. So now she shuns those big fat crayons. They are far too imprecise.
Unfortunately, this means straight-up PENS are the preferred method of destruction. Pens are, in general, far less washable than those crayons were. Today I went and got a big pack of those twistable colored pencils. I went ahead and got the more expensive twisty ones because I just know Amelia will want the fine tip on her pencils maintained, and boy, do I not want her experimenting with pencil sharpeners just yet.
Yes, Dad, she is interested in license plates. She cannot yet read them with any accuracy. Mostly she'll point to them and say "two!" or "B!" no matter what the numbers and letters are. What she can do is differentiate between numbers and letters. Almost always, when she says "two!", she is pointing to a number, and when she says "B!" she is pointing to a letter.
She is having a verbal explosion. She even says sentences sometimes. This morning, upon waking up, she instantly demanded, "Where is Daddy?" She is also prone to announce "I peed!" at the appropriate time. Once I could have sworn she said, "I need help," and another time, "I need doot-doo [music]!" But I can't verify either of those. Those could merely be motherly fancies.
Amelia is also making animal sounds, and is also using more baby sign language to indicate animals. It's interesting that all but two of the signs she's bothered to ever use indicate animals (the other two: potty and stars). She has signs for dog, bird, zebra, frog, bug... and a few more I can't think of off the top of my head. I think those are just things she is excited to "talk" about.
It is partly because of these signs that I know that she is quite observant. She makes the signs for dog and bird frequently when I don't expect them. But if I look around or listen (or review in my mind the sounds I had tuned out during the last thirty seconds), I will find that she is indeed correct. There was a dog barking just a bit ago. Oh, that flute sounded remarkably like a bird, didn't it?
Last week sometime, I got very discouraged. She somehow managed to defeat pretty much all my anti-baby-chaos measures that day, and I was too tired and sick to do much about it. In despair, I Googled "smart toddler", hoping to find advice for how to survive having one, and instead I was flooded with results along the lines of, "HOW TO MAKE YOUR BABY/TODDLER SMARTER! LOLZ!"
... My immediate thought was, why would anyone in their right mind try to make their baby smarter on purpose? Sounds downright stupid. Like self-torture. Because truly, smart child equals more work... at least while the kid is a baby or toddler. I don't have any experience beyond that.
Okay, okay. I do get it. Parents want their kids to succeed and being smart is one good way to help a kid do that sort of thing. I know, I know. But still.
Anyway, these last three weeks have been quite awful for me. I'm catching all the illnesses going around. Gotta catch 'em all, I always say... Although in all seriousness, I am terribly discouraged by remaining sick for so long. I'm certain that part of the reason I'm having difficulty recovering quickly is that I am having so much difficulty eating enough and eating well.
For those of you who were looking at this post merely for warm, fuzzy "aw, cute baby" feels, you should close this tab now.
I've briefly mentioned these difficulties before, but I haven't really dwelt on these in my writing because I'm not quite sure what to make of them myself. But this whole situation is really weighing on my mind because I am pregnant and I really need to eat well (and enough). And I'm secretly afraid people will freak out about it. Again, because I'm pregnant.
But I can't really think of what to do about it besides what I've already tried, so maybe writing will help? I don't know. Here goes. (It also helps that one of my friends told me about an almost identical problem, when I had never heard of anyone else struggling with it before. Maybe it isn't actually all that unusual?)
Phew. Anyway. You recall how seriously sick I was while I was pregnant with Amelia. The nausea went away when I gave birth, of course, but I don't think things went back to normal. Far from it. I used to love, love, love food. Now, each meal is an ordeal where I force myself to ingest food. The thing is, I don't like eating anymore. My relationship with food has changed completely.
I usually think of brain plasticity (the fact that neuronal connections are changeable) as an awesome thing... and it is. But I think some neurons got rewired up there, this time to my disadvantage. Eating used to hook me to that wonderful thing called the pleasure center, and now it's hooked up to the amygdala (the fear center) or something like that. I cannot get out of the mindset that food makes me feel awful and it should be avoided. And when I eat, I have trouble eating much. My brain says, "Food causes vomiting. Don't eat unless you have to." It also says, "Um, food. You need it. Eat it." So I do...
But now food doesn't taste good. Not really. I get cravings... but... they almost never repeat. Burgers... why did I never realize how yucky they were? Apple pie! ... Wait. This isn't actually pleasant. Stir fry! ... I don't remember vegetables being so bitter... when did that happen? When did ice cream start tasting like sugary lard? Is bread supposed to taste like anything besides cardboard? Etc, etc.
And now it's so hard to convince myself to engage in any sort of food preparation. You're supposed to get tasty food out of all that effort. So when the end result is... blegh, I remember this tasting a whole lot better... well, it's hard. I am thus having particular difficulty eating healthily because, let's face it, healthy food involves a heckuva lot more food prep than grabbing a bowl of cereal or a muffin off of the counter. And when I can barely convince myself it's worth opening the fridge to get the milk, or even getting leftovers and putting it in the microwave... Glug. Chewing and swallowing is already such an ordeal... do I really have to make the food, too?
Anyway, it's been nearly two years since Amelia was born and the hyperemesis gravidarum said goodbye. I had then noticed that my relationship with food was strained, but I just thought it would get better with time. It hasn't really.
Now, lest you freak out about Microraptor starving to death in utero, I am eating. Possibly even enough, most of the time. Probably barely enough, but I'm trying really hard. It is really disheartening to feel like I must have been gorging myself over the last few weeks (so surely I've gained a few pounds, right?) only to step on the scale and see... maybe a half-pound weight gain. Once, after feeling like I ate like a ravenous beast for days straight, I went in, stepped on the scale, and nearly burst into tears upon seeing that I had actually lost weight.
It is comforting that despite the sluggish weight gain (I have managed to gain five pounds! Woo!), Microraptor is doing splendidly. Just the right size, a good heartbeat, etc. It is hard to worry about the kid too much when he or she throws so many epic dance parties in there. The midwives are not worried about my weight gain so far. I was hoping things'd get better now that I'm here in the second trimester rather than the evil nauseating first trimester (which, well, wasn't that evil), but it hasn't, so I'm going to do more... inquiring about this next time I visit the midwife, which isn't too long from now.
Sigh. I wish I knew they would have good ideas to help me. The whole situation smacks of an eating disorder, though I hesitate to use those words, because people usually think of body image issues... and ha! I most certainly have never worried about my body image before. If I could make a deal where I never had to eat again, but I would permanently gain thirty pounds... right now, I think I might actually do it. That doesn't sound like any eating disorder I've heard of. The brand-new DSM V actually has something my problem might actually fit into ("avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder", though it is mostly seen as a problem little kids have). Maybe someone actually has seen this before and does know how to help me. Perhaps.
Anyway, I think prayers would be beneficial. I'm not sure how else you could help if you wanted to. James is helpful because he actually makes food and puts it in front of me to eat.
Love and noms,
Jenna
and Amelia
and Microraptor
