Well, the good news is that I am nauseous less often and seemingly less severely, though this morning I'm not sure that's the case. I feel awful.
I often feel as if I've been run over by a steamroller. I'm so exhausted all the time. I literally find it difficult to do more than sit on the couch staring into space for hours at a time... of course, I am occasionally interrupted by Amelia insisting that I read her this or that book (for the umpteenth time). I need naps during the day, and if I don't sleep at night, I'm an utter wreck the next day.
Inside my brain, things have gotten... interesting.
I feel like a witch. I don't ever recall raising my voice so often and for so little reason. For whatever reason, I am getting "touched out" much more quickly than before. Sometimes when Amelia pounces on me (for the umpteenth time) I find myself leaping away like a yowling cat, exclaiming, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" And then I lock myself in the bathroom.
Maybe part of it is that I am, for whatever reason, quite sensitive to body heat right now. Our thermostat is down all the way, and I still require air blowing on me in the night to keep cool. And at times during the day, I have to pull out a frozen fruit bar to cool myself down from the inside. So, unfortunately for Amelia, cuddles are much less welcome right now.
And then there are the migraines... I can't figure out how to make them go away. And I also can't figure out what's triggering them. I thought maybe dehydration, or hunger, or heat, or fatigue, or all of the above was triggering it, but I am at least one of those things all the time, whether or not I have a headache... Migraines make me grumpy. Very much so.
Of course, that's not all. I am having way more panic attacks than I am used to. I sometimes feel completely irrational. I often find myself thinking, "Seriously? I'm seriously having a panic attack about this? This is so stupid!"
Take, for instance, the twins obsession. I know (or at my frontal cortex knows) that if I actually am pregnant with twins (that's unlikely, says my frontal cortex) that that's fine, all will be well. My frontal cortex also likes to remind me that I have no rational reason to be so convinced there's more than one in there. It also also likes to remind that my pregnant sister-in-law is also somewhat convinced she's got twins too, and she doesn't seem to be off her rocker. So, concludes my frontal cortex, I just need to stop feeling crazy, and that's that.
I had an ultrasound yesterday. Kind of.
The midwife agreed it'd be a good idea to peek inside so that I'd be less anxiety-ridden. But... well... maybe if I only knew as much as the layperson does about ultrasound, maybe the ultrasound actually would have convinced me there was only one.
But then again, not only did this particular woman seem to have very little expertise with ultrasound, but I'm almost certain she hasn't ever personally dealt with anxiety and panic attacks of this sort before. If she was trying to comfort me, she probably shouldn't have said "Well, I'm very bad at finding twins. And they like to hide at this age. Sometimes twins are obvious, but just as often, they're not."
And I'm pretty sure she wasn't thinking two-dimensionally when we did get an image on the screen. She just took the transabdominal transducer and put it over my belly, turned on the machine, didn't move it once, and said, "Well, I only see one." She printed the image and then turned the machine off.
I wanted to shriek, "You didn't rule out twins! You didn't rule out ANYTHING!" (Well, maybe she ruled out monoamniotic twins, but that hardly counts.) I wanted to yank the transducer out of her hand and do the procedure myself. Either that or demand she pull out the transvaginal transducer, but I had a feeling she was even less skilled with that. (Invasive? Pshah. She just did a bimanual exam AND a Pap smear. And both of those suckers hurt. Transvaginal ultrasound would have been NOTHING!) She didn't scan across the uterus once. For all I know, there is another one hidden in there, and the edge of a second gestational sac was just slightly to the side of where we were looking.
But... I didn't shriek. Nor did I grab the transducer. Maybe I should have. Surely she has encountered absolutely insane pregnant women before, so surely she would have forgiven me that small misbehavior.
"So, feel better?"
... "No. I was sure I would, but..." And then I burst into tears. Fabulous.
While I got dressed, I examined my feelings and discovered, contrary to what I should logically be feeling (a small measure of relief), I was instead even more convinced that there are indeed two and I was angry. Furious with myself. I so badly want to feel like my normal, rational self. Instead, I seem to be growing more and more irrational by the day.
I got dressed and went home. I was tired. I'd been in the office for an hour and a half (wrangling a hyperactive toddler at the same time) and I just wanted a nap. I got a call when I got home and discovered that the midwife had meant to come talk to me some more, so then I felt even worse.
Ugh. I cried a lot yesterday evening because I felt so... unstable and irrational and just plain panicky and even a little bit actually crazy. I don't actually care about there being one or two babies right now; I just want to having my thinking brain back--the one that is actually pretty good at neutralizing irrational feelings like these ones I'm overwhelmed by.
I almost feel like I'm convinced the sky is falling, and I'm angry at the sky for not showing any evidence of doing so BECAUSE THE SKY IS FALLING, DANG IT. That's just crazy.
Mentally, I didn't feel anything like this when I was pregnant with Amelia. I mean, I suppose I wasn't so stressed back then. I did just move back to Oregon, when I didn't want to... at all. And there's no sunshine. And there's no family here. And etc., etc., etc.
In the meantime, I'm going to... try and convince myself there is only one kid in there. Maybe I'll feel more sane that way. After all, it is much, much, much more likely that there really is only one baby instead of two. Once I make it to the second trimester, I'll start calling Baby Delta by his or her dinosaur name: Microraptor.
Love and steamrollers,
Jenna and Baby Delta
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Milestone!
So I just had to share the big news... Amelia is doing so much better at night now! Huzzah! For a few nights this week after her bedtime nursing session, she went progressively longer and longer without night nursing (2am, 4am, 6am) and last night she didn't ask to nurse until 8am. Huzzah!
I've been sleeping in the queen bed and James has been sleeping on the twin in the next room. We still like each other just fine, of course, but recently this has been the sleeping arrangement most likely to result in us all getting enough sleep.
Anyway, what usually happens is that I nurse Amelia, hand her over to James, and then they go fall asleep on the twin mattress in Amelia's room. Sometime in the middle of the night, Amelia usually wakes up crying looking for me and desperately wanting to nurse.
Last night, though, she apparently needed to fall asleep with me. So that's what happened. But! Sometime in the night she ambled back over to her room and cuddled up with James without waking either of us. I actually had to search for her in the night when I woke up to pee for the third time (ugh, pregnancy is fun) and she was GONE. WHUT?
Sometime later she woke up again and decided she needed me and came back to sleep in the queen with me. Only she didn't nurse... she just wanted to cozy herself in my armpit. Gross, I think, but whatever floats the kid's dreamboat.
So I'm super excited about last night for several reasons. Mostly I'm excited that she ambled back to her own room on her own. But also, I'm glad she is nursing less at night. It's been disturbing my sleep more severely lately.
Now if only I could tell you that Amelia night nursing less and spending more of the night in the other room with James were actually helping me sleep.
Baby Delta is making nighttime AWFUL. I've been getting up at least four times in the night to pee. And then I can't fall back asleep because I feel sick and/or too hot and/or headachy and/or anxious and/or sore all over. Last night I was all of the above. Fabulous. Yeah, so the last half week has been horrible for me.
I hear that around age 14-18 months, little kids are still extremely needy (must have Mother ALL the time, no exceptions!) but are also hard to keep up with thanks to the whole "must run everywhere", "must climb ALL the things", "must destroy ALL the things", "must flail ALL the limbs when near Mom's face", "must create ALL the messes", etc., etc., etc. Amelia has fit into this stereotypical development stage PERFECTLY.
It has been extremely demanding on me, particularly during the last few weeks while I've been feeling groggy. (I am SO tired ALL the time. I attempt to stay in bed until noon every day and then take a nap later.) Amelia is so difficult to deal with a lot of the time. Now, I do not mean to say that she is a bad kid or an unhappy kid or an angry kid or any of that sort of thing. She is SO happy. I seriously don't think I know of any other kids her age who are so happy, so friendly, so boisterous, or so loving. She is very, very nice.
Everybody at church thinks she is so well-behaved... and by this they mean she doesn't really get angry and throw evil tantrums. She is definitely mischievous and laughs maniacally as she constantly gets into all sorts of trouble. Amelia is simply irrepressible and always adventuring in some way.
She is NOT quiet in church, nor do I think she even remotely has the capacity to sit still, but to my surprise even the people I was sure would say, "Why can't you get your kid to sit down and shut up and act like a tiny adult?! What is wrong with you? You are obviously doing this parenting thing wrong!" ... Well, instead they are saying, "Why, isn't she just the sweetest thing? So well-behaved. Not like some brats I know..." So I don't get it, but I'll take it.
Oh, and the pediatrician told me, "Yes, I know you're tired. But Amelia is the happiest and most well-behaved 18-month old I've seen in months." She told me this while Amelia was driving me bonkers with her energy level. In some ways, I apparently have got it easy right now. For instance, I suppose we don't ever have any battles of wills.
Maybe the secret is this: if the kid is grinning ear-to-ear and isn't mean, it doesn't matter how many grey hairs or bald spots or black eyes or bruises or bags under-the-eyes or quasi-electrocution hairstyles or twitching facial features Mom and Dad have. That is one good kid.
Theoretically, Amelia should be approaching a new stage: emerging independence. Oh my, this sounds like exactly what I've been dreaming about and my current energy levels warrant.
We are actually beginning to see this happen, I think. Sometimes she plays by herself for all of fifteen minutes. Egads! Sometimes in the night she actually rolls over and takes up the OTHER half of the bed instead of sleeping on top of me! Sometimes (semi-regularly) she lets us completely abandon her while she sleeps! (This is good. Given the frequency that I'm waking up in the night to pee, I shudder to think what would happen if she bolted upright each time I got out of bed in the night... Ooh, ooh! Last night, even, she did wake up when I got out of bed. She looked up to see what I was doing... and then laid back down and went back to sleep. Of course, this did happen after a few instances of her following me to the bathroom to see what I was doing in the night, but still. Success!) Oh, and of course, the transition to nursery could not be going more easily.
And, of course, the biggest evidence that she is getting more independent... more SURPRISES. I found her giant blue ball inside the dryer today. James found that she had ripped off all the pull tabs on our soy milk food storage. (Ugh.) Art on the walls. Sticker wall art ripped off the wall and shredded into pieces and spread throughout the house. Cheerios in the heater vents and inside the computer case (... ... ... I do not like the implications of that one). Baby covered in pen and/or marker. Toilet paper EVERYWHERE. All our apples pulled off the table, each of which have one or two mysterious bite marks in them (Bunnicula?). Pieces of tissue shoved up into the innards of our printer. Giant puddles of water dangerously close to things that should never under any circumstances have puddles of water nearby (i.e. computers).
Love and surprises,
Jenna, Amelia, and Baby Delta
I've been sleeping in the queen bed and James has been sleeping on the twin in the next room. We still like each other just fine, of course, but recently this has been the sleeping arrangement most likely to result in us all getting enough sleep.
Anyway, what usually happens is that I nurse Amelia, hand her over to James, and then they go fall asleep on the twin mattress in Amelia's room. Sometime in the middle of the night, Amelia usually wakes up crying looking for me and desperately wanting to nurse.
Last night, though, she apparently needed to fall asleep with me. So that's what happened. But! Sometime in the night she ambled back over to her room and cuddled up with James without waking either of us. I actually had to search for her in the night when I woke up to pee for the third time (ugh, pregnancy is fun) and she was GONE. WHUT?
Sometime later she woke up again and decided she needed me and came back to sleep in the queen with me. Only she didn't nurse... she just wanted to cozy herself in my armpit. Gross, I think, but whatever floats the kid's dreamboat.
So I'm super excited about last night for several reasons. Mostly I'm excited that she ambled back to her own room on her own. But also, I'm glad she is nursing less at night. It's been disturbing my sleep more severely lately.
Now if only I could tell you that Amelia night nursing less and spending more of the night in the other room with James were actually helping me sleep.
Baby Delta is making nighttime AWFUL. I've been getting up at least four times in the night to pee. And then I can't fall back asleep because I feel sick and/or too hot and/or headachy and/or anxious and/or sore all over. Last night I was all of the above. Fabulous. Yeah, so the last half week has been horrible for me.
I hear that around age 14-18 months, little kids are still extremely needy (must have Mother ALL the time, no exceptions!) but are also hard to keep up with thanks to the whole "must run everywhere", "must climb ALL the things", "must destroy ALL the things", "must flail ALL the limbs when near Mom's face", "must create ALL the messes", etc., etc., etc. Amelia has fit into this stereotypical development stage PERFECTLY.
It has been extremely demanding on me, particularly during the last few weeks while I've been feeling groggy. (I am SO tired ALL the time. I attempt to stay in bed until noon every day and then take a nap later.) Amelia is so difficult to deal with a lot of the time. Now, I do not mean to say that she is a bad kid or an unhappy kid or an angry kid or any of that sort of thing. She is SO happy. I seriously don't think I know of any other kids her age who are so happy, so friendly, so boisterous, or so loving. She is very, very nice.
Everybody at church thinks she is so well-behaved... and by this they mean she doesn't really get angry and throw evil tantrums. She is definitely mischievous and laughs maniacally as she constantly gets into all sorts of trouble. Amelia is simply irrepressible and always adventuring in some way.
She is NOT quiet in church, nor do I think she even remotely has the capacity to sit still, but to my surprise even the people I was sure would say, "Why can't you get your kid to sit down and shut up and act like a tiny adult?! What is wrong with you? You are obviously doing this parenting thing wrong!" ... Well, instead they are saying, "Why, isn't she just the sweetest thing? So well-behaved. Not like some brats I know..." So I don't get it, but I'll take it.
Oh, and the pediatrician told me, "Yes, I know you're tired. But Amelia is the happiest and most well-behaved 18-month old I've seen in months." She told me this while Amelia was driving me bonkers with her energy level. In some ways, I apparently have got it easy right now. For instance, I suppose we don't ever have any battles of wills.
Maybe the secret is this: if the kid is grinning ear-to-ear and isn't mean, it doesn't matter how many grey hairs or bald spots or black eyes or bruises or bags under-the-eyes or quasi-electrocution hairstyles or twitching facial features Mom and Dad have. That is one good kid.
Theoretically, Amelia should be approaching a new stage: emerging independence. Oh my, this sounds like exactly what I've been dreaming about and my current energy levels warrant.
We are actually beginning to see this happen, I think. Sometimes she plays by herself for all of fifteen minutes. Egads! Sometimes in the night she actually rolls over and takes up the OTHER half of the bed instead of sleeping on top of me! Sometimes (semi-regularly) she lets us completely abandon her while she sleeps! (This is good. Given the frequency that I'm waking up in the night to pee, I shudder to think what would happen if she bolted upright each time I got out of bed in the night... Ooh, ooh! Last night, even, she did wake up when I got out of bed. She looked up to see what I was doing... and then laid back down and went back to sleep. Of course, this did happen after a few instances of her following me to the bathroom to see what I was doing in the night, but still. Success!) Oh, and of course, the transition to nursery could not be going more easily.
And, of course, the biggest evidence that she is getting more independent... more SURPRISES. I found her giant blue ball inside the dryer today. James found that she had ripped off all the pull tabs on our soy milk food storage. (Ugh.) Art on the walls. Sticker wall art ripped off the wall and shredded into pieces and spread throughout the house. Cheerios in the heater vents and inside the computer case (... ... ... I do not like the implications of that one). Baby covered in pen and/or marker. Toilet paper EVERYWHERE. All our apples pulled off the table, each of which have one or two mysterious bite marks in them (Bunnicula?). Pieces of tissue shoved up into the innards of our printer. Giant puddles of water dangerously close to things that should never under any circumstances have puddles of water nearby (i.e. computers).
Love and surprises,
Jenna, Amelia, and Baby Delta
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Feeling Slightly More Sane
I've been a bit more sick this week, but I still think this counts as normal pregnancy nausea. I have yet to actually vomit, which is also nice. Somehow though, I am still losing weight. Doom. And here I thought for sure I was eating so well. Maybe I'm just eating well compared to how I was eating last pregnancy, but still not actually eating much. That might be it.
Maybe? I don't know. Sometimes I think I never actually redeveloped a healthy relationship with food after the last pregnancy. I usually don't have a problem eating food dumped in front of my face, but... man, if I have to prepare food (even minimally), a little piece of my mind groans and decides food isn't worth it. A little bit of me has remained convinced that food is gross. I don't really enjoy eating that much any more. And so now that I'm nauseous so often again, I'm struggling a bit with the whole eating thing.
Ironically, Amelia is saving me. She is not shy about demanding food. And if I'm forced to find something for the tot to eat, I might as well eat a little too.
Yes, I'm still having those crazy thoughts about having twins. I think my psychiatrist is a little concerned about my mental health at the moment. She was like, "I would feel better if you had some Xanax for when you have these panic attacks." And I was like, "Oh. Really?" I'm not sure I'd use the stuff, but the twin thoughts are pretty invasive, even if I think they are getting less so.
I think what I had to do to get myself to calm down was pretend for a day or so that I really am pregnant with twins for real, and then allow myself to sit down and analyze all the stuff we'd have to do differently than we were planning to had we been pregnant with a singleton, particularly financially.
I suppose I wasn't letting myself sit down and think the issue through because I was caught up in the whole "I have no good reason to think I'm pregnant with twins in the first place" issue. But that was bad because I deal with stress by thinking things through. So I was essentially trying to tell myself to solve the problem by ignoring it. Oops.
Anyway, the things I came up with that we'd need were: three new car seats, a stroller that can fit in the trunk and fit two or three kids in it, and a twin nursing pillow. And maybe a kid leash to prevent Amelia from running out into the street while I'm trying finagle three babies in a row into car seats. That's really all I'd need. Besides more baby clothing, which is relatively easy to come by. Oh, and maybe another twin mattress to put on the floor by our bed.
If we were actually financially well off, it would probably be smarter to just upgrade to a minivan rocketship, but that doesn't really make sense for us right now. We don't have a car payment on our beloved Fred right now, and he's never broken down and is quite reliable. It makes more sense to dish out the moneys for car seats that are designed to fit three-in-a-row in the back of the car than it does to dish out all the expenses associated with a new vehicle. A minivan is quite tempting though... sigh. That's for kid four, I guess.
...
You know, now that I think about it, I vaguely remember telling Heavenly Father if he ever decided that He absolutely HAD to send us twins, he'd better do it with either the second pregnancy while we have room for twins in our car, or with the fourth or fifth before a minivan fills up, or... you get the idea. It's one thing to go into a pregnancy knowing you'll need a new vehicle before the baby arrives. It's another to have that little surprise while pregnant.
Hmm.
That thought didn't help. WHAT IF MY PRAYER IS BEING ANSWERED!? OH NOOOO.
You see, I am quite good at freaking myself out.
Anyway, once I actually spent a few days and went "shopping" and selected car seats, a stroller, and a pillow, I suddenly felt better. And just with the way our insurance works, even if the twins ended up in the NICU for weeks (sad!), it would only actually cost us another $1000 more than a singleton birth. I was all like, I CAN DO DIS TING WIT'OUT FINANCIAL RUIN! YUSSS! Only I don't know if I'm doing dis ting in the first place. But if I am, I CAN DO EET. I think. As for the actual managing two beebees at once, I was just planning on winging it anyway.
I have resolved to ask for an ultrasound on my first prenatal visit to reveal the number of babies. One or two... it'd be nice to be certain about SOMETHING finally.
Tomorrow I hit 7 weeks, and my first appointment isn't until nearly 11 weeks. I seem to recall that the midwives have an ancient ultrasound machine in their office, so they might look during the first appointment, but I suppose it is just as likely they'll tell me to schedule an appointment with the actual sonographers a bit later than that. So we have a while. I can make it, methinks.
Methinks. Every once in a while I'm tempted to call their office in a "panic" about something I know is completely normal... just so MAYBE they'll look inside to see what's going on. An even crazier part of me wants to make up stuff like "oh no, I is bleeding and cramping is ouch, please halp is beebee OKAY please halp i is scared" just to be certain they'll look. Sigh. Sometimes my better judgment makes my life so boring. And man, ignorance could be convenient, too. I'm already noticing round ligament pain (apparently not too unusual in second or later pregnancies). If I didn't know what it was and that it was completely harmless, I could totally call in a panic and get an ultrasound. Le doom.
I seriously sometimes scratch my head perplexedly at how utterly clinically unremarkable this pregnancy actually is. I cannot thing of a SINGLE good reason besides my mental state to demand an ultrasound at the moment. I want one.
Also, I begin to wonder if God is exercising His sense of humor at me. He is being so vague. And every time I notice a new pregnancy symptom, I'm like, "OH NO! NOT YET! IS TOO EARLY! I IS PREGNANT WITH TWINS! THE DOOM!" And I think He knows it. So it keeps happening. He must be rolling in the clouds laughing like a maniac, wiping tears from His eyes. And, just to keep things on the iffy side, he makes sure that it's not too rare for a mom with a singleton to have the same experience.
WHY I MUST TO KNOW THE TRUTH NOW HALP,
Jenna
plus the contents of her womb
whatever that means
confused
is i sane?
wut
Maybe? I don't know. Sometimes I think I never actually redeveloped a healthy relationship with food after the last pregnancy. I usually don't have a problem eating food dumped in front of my face, but... man, if I have to prepare food (even minimally), a little piece of my mind groans and decides food isn't worth it. A little bit of me has remained convinced that food is gross. I don't really enjoy eating that much any more. And so now that I'm nauseous so often again, I'm struggling a bit with the whole eating thing.
Ironically, Amelia is saving me. She is not shy about demanding food. And if I'm forced to find something for the tot to eat, I might as well eat a little too.
Yes, I'm still having those crazy thoughts about having twins. I think my psychiatrist is a little concerned about my mental health at the moment. She was like, "I would feel better if you had some Xanax for when you have these panic attacks." And I was like, "Oh. Really?" I'm not sure I'd use the stuff, but the twin thoughts are pretty invasive, even if I think they are getting less so.
I think what I had to do to get myself to calm down was pretend for a day or so that I really am pregnant with twins for real, and then allow myself to sit down and analyze all the stuff we'd have to do differently than we were planning to had we been pregnant with a singleton, particularly financially.
I suppose I wasn't letting myself sit down and think the issue through because I was caught up in the whole "I have no good reason to think I'm pregnant with twins in the first place" issue. But that was bad because I deal with stress by thinking things through. So I was essentially trying to tell myself to solve the problem by ignoring it. Oops.
Anyway, the things I came up with that we'd need were: three new car seats, a stroller that can fit in the trunk and fit two or three kids in it, and a twin nursing pillow. And maybe a kid leash to prevent Amelia from running out into the street while I'm trying finagle three babies in a row into car seats. That's really all I'd need. Besides more baby clothing, which is relatively easy to come by. Oh, and maybe another twin mattress to put on the floor by our bed.
If we were actually financially well off, it would probably be smarter to just upgrade to a minivan rocketship, but that doesn't really make sense for us right now. We don't have a car payment on our beloved Fred right now, and he's never broken down and is quite reliable. It makes more sense to dish out the moneys for car seats that are designed to fit three-in-a-row in the back of the car than it does to dish out all the expenses associated with a new vehicle. A minivan is quite tempting though... sigh. That's for kid four, I guess.
...
You know, now that I think about it, I vaguely remember telling Heavenly Father if he ever decided that He absolutely HAD to send us twins, he'd better do it with either the second pregnancy while we have room for twins in our car, or with the fourth or fifth before a minivan fills up, or... you get the idea. It's one thing to go into a pregnancy knowing you'll need a new vehicle before the baby arrives. It's another to have that little surprise while pregnant.
Hmm.
That thought didn't help. WHAT IF MY PRAYER IS BEING ANSWERED!? OH NOOOO.
You see, I am quite good at freaking myself out.
Anyway, once I actually spent a few days and went "shopping" and selected car seats, a stroller, and a pillow, I suddenly felt better. And just with the way our insurance works, even if the twins ended up in the NICU for weeks (sad!), it would only actually cost us another $1000 more than a singleton birth. I was all like, I CAN DO DIS TING WIT'OUT FINANCIAL RUIN! YUSSS! Only I don't know if I'm doing dis ting in the first place. But if I am, I CAN DO EET. I think. As for the actual managing two beebees at once, I was just planning on winging it anyway.
I have resolved to ask for an ultrasound on my first prenatal visit to reveal the number of babies. One or two... it'd be nice to be certain about SOMETHING finally.
Tomorrow I hit 7 weeks, and my first appointment isn't until nearly 11 weeks. I seem to recall that the midwives have an ancient ultrasound machine in their office, so they might look during the first appointment, but I suppose it is just as likely they'll tell me to schedule an appointment with the actual sonographers a bit later than that. So we have a while. I can make it, methinks.
Methinks. Every once in a while I'm tempted to call their office in a "panic" about something I know is completely normal... just so MAYBE they'll look inside to see what's going on. An even crazier part of me wants to make up stuff like "oh no, I is bleeding and cramping is ouch, please halp is beebee OKAY please halp i is scared" just to be certain they'll look. Sigh. Sometimes my better judgment makes my life so boring. And man, ignorance could be convenient, too. I'm already noticing round ligament pain (apparently not too unusual in second or later pregnancies). If I didn't know what it was and that it was completely harmless, I could totally call in a panic and get an ultrasound. Le doom.
I seriously sometimes scratch my head perplexedly at how utterly clinically unremarkable this pregnancy actually is. I cannot thing of a SINGLE good reason besides my mental state to demand an ultrasound at the moment. I want one.
Also, I begin to wonder if God is exercising His sense of humor at me. He is being so vague. And every time I notice a new pregnancy symptom, I'm like, "OH NO! NOT YET! IS TOO EARLY! I IS PREGNANT WITH TWINS! THE DOOM!" And I think He knows it. So it keeps happening. He must be rolling in the clouds laughing like a maniac, wiping tears from His eyes. And, just to keep things on the iffy side, he makes sure that it's not too rare for a mom with a singleton to have the same experience.
WHY I MUST TO KNOW THE TRUTH NOW HALP,
Jenna
plus the contents of her womb
whatever that means
confused
is i sane?
wut
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Feeling Crazy!
You'll be glad to hear that so far, the pregnancy nausea has continued to be quite mild. I keep a stash of Junior Mints and ginger ale and they seem to work just fine. The thing is, though, I still dislike it when people give me advice on how to manage pregnancy nausea. Like, "Oh! Have you tried soda crackers?" And, "Just make sure you have some food right next to your bed you can eat before you get up. You'll be fine!"
Pretty much throughout my pregnancy with Amelia, giving me advice on how to combat nausea was a surefire way to get me grumpy. I saw an e-card meme-type thing on a friend's blog lately that described precisely what I was feeling and thinking every time someone suggested a well-known cure: "Why no, I haven't tried crackers, ginger, small meals, or sipping water. I enjoy morning sickness so much, I thought I would just embrace the whole experience."
The issue with me and nausea so far seems to be mostly the ubernose of pregnancy. Yes, I feel somewhat queasy in the morning since I haven't eaten all night, but that's no biggie. It's the nose. Oh, the cursed nose.
The number one culprit: Amelia.
Pee diapers. Poo diapers. Vomit breath. Sour milk breath. Whatever-she's-been-eating breath. Whatever's all over her hands. A food item she scaled a 10-foot cliff in order to grab and has now thrown in my face for me to open (i.e. banana)... that also happens to smell awful to me. In short, Amelia.
The number two culprit: Any and all food that requires heating.
Quesadillas. Eggs. Chicken nuggets. Even pizza. Popcorn. Anything that James wants to eat. Anything that Amelia wants for lunch.
In the meantime, I am eating ALL the hummus.
Other pregnancy ailments I'm not so happy about... indigestion! Seriously? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.... And horrible, horrible, horrible headaches. The worst thing is that Tylenol does nothing, and caffeine helps a little bit. Unfortunately, the caffeine also makes the indigestion and heartburn worse. Is there no "just right" sweet spot? Augh.
I'm still feeling super silly. Actually, no, I think it's gone past feeling merely silly and into feeling just downright crazy. I still can't get the twins thought out of my head. I'm tempted to call the midwives and beg for an early ultrasound because it's bothering me so much. I'm almost at 6 weeks, so the baby/babies should just barely be visible now.
Mentally, the idea that I'm just absolutely nuts is bothering me WAY more than the idea that it IS twins. I don't like being crazy. Like, at all. I think I'm more tempted to get the ultrasound to see if I'm crazy or not rather than to find out how many babies there are.
I made the stupid mistake of turning to Google to convince myself that in all likelihood, it isn't twins.
Boy, was THAT a mistake.
Lo, and behold, I run across a study that found that the twin rate amongst women who conceive while breastfeeding is 11.4% versus 1.1% in the general population. I couldn't actually look at anything besides the abstract on PubMed, but it makes sense to me given what I know about fertility, so I am inclined to trust that, to some degree at least, breastfeeding does in fact increase the chances of twins.
Also Google informs me that feeling like you are pregnant with twins is actually somewhat predictive of actually being pregnant with twins.
So.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Moral of the story: Don't Google it.
Love and respect to our Google overlords,
Jenna and Baby Delta
... and possibly Baby Epsilon. Possibly.
Augh.
I'm crazy.
Pretty much throughout my pregnancy with Amelia, giving me advice on how to combat nausea was a surefire way to get me grumpy. I saw an e-card meme-type thing on a friend's blog lately that described precisely what I was feeling and thinking every time someone suggested a well-known cure: "Why no, I haven't tried crackers, ginger, small meals, or sipping water. I enjoy morning sickness so much, I thought I would just embrace the whole experience."
The issue with me and nausea so far seems to be mostly the ubernose of pregnancy. Yes, I feel somewhat queasy in the morning since I haven't eaten all night, but that's no biggie. It's the nose. Oh, the cursed nose.
The number one culprit: Amelia.
Pee diapers. Poo diapers. Vomit breath. Sour milk breath. Whatever-she's-been-eating breath. Whatever's all over her hands. A food item she scaled a 10-foot cliff in order to grab and has now thrown in my face for me to open (i.e. banana)... that also happens to smell awful to me. In short, Amelia.
The number two culprit: Any and all food that requires heating.
Quesadillas. Eggs. Chicken nuggets. Even pizza. Popcorn. Anything that James wants to eat. Anything that Amelia wants for lunch.
In the meantime, I am eating ALL the hummus.
Other pregnancy ailments I'm not so happy about... indigestion! Seriously? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.... And horrible, horrible, horrible headaches. The worst thing is that Tylenol does nothing, and caffeine helps a little bit. Unfortunately, the caffeine also makes the indigestion and heartburn worse. Is there no "just right" sweet spot? Augh.
I'm still feeling super silly. Actually, no, I think it's gone past feeling merely silly and into feeling just downright crazy. I still can't get the twins thought out of my head. I'm tempted to call the midwives and beg for an early ultrasound because it's bothering me so much. I'm almost at 6 weeks, so the baby/babies should just barely be visible now.
Mentally, the idea that I'm just absolutely nuts is bothering me WAY more than the idea that it IS twins. I don't like being crazy. Like, at all. I think I'm more tempted to get the ultrasound to see if I'm crazy or not rather than to find out how many babies there are.
I made the stupid mistake of turning to Google to convince myself that in all likelihood, it isn't twins.
Boy, was THAT a mistake.
Lo, and behold, I run across a study that found that the twin rate amongst women who conceive while breastfeeding is 11.4% versus 1.1% in the general population. I couldn't actually look at anything besides the abstract on PubMed, but it makes sense to me given what I know about fertility, so I am inclined to trust that, to some degree at least, breastfeeding does in fact increase the chances of twins.
Also Google informs me that feeling like you are pregnant with twins is actually somewhat predictive of actually being pregnant with twins.
So.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Moral of the story: Don't Google it.
Love and respect to our Google overlords,
Jenna and Baby Delta
... and possibly Baby Epsilon. Possibly.
Augh.
I'm crazy.
Monday, January 27, 2014
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.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
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
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
Friday, January 3, 2014
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
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
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