The differences between the first pregnancy and all the ones to follow...
1st-Cannot contain the excitement of telling absolutely everyone in the world your news and dream about all of the responses to fill your email, voicemail and facebook page.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-Excited to tell, but also realize that most people will simply give the polite "congrats" because they think you are crazy to keep adding on each additional child.
1st-Anxious to fill out the maternity clothes. Constantly checking in the mirror to see if the pouch is there.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-Depressed to find that you cannot button your regular pants before you even reach your first doctor's appointment. Only relief is to let the pouch that never went away out and stop trying to hide it.
1st-Begin wearing maternity clothes before you actually have to.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-Begin to cry as you open the bin of maternity clothes because you are wearing them a full two months earlier than the first time around.
1st-Morning sickness can be comforted by rest and light snacks.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You ignore it while you care for your other kids. All snacks must be eaten in secret because the first kids will beg for whatever food they catch you with.
1st-You write down every moment of pregnancy into a journal for your baby to read eighteen years later.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You blog your occassional thoughts so that they can someday be printed out because the action of actually writing in a journal requires alone time that you no longer have.
1st-You and your husband spend long moments gazing at your growing belly, dreaming about who this little creature will be.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You no longer have time to gaze because the first creature constantly interrupts.
1st-You beam when friends tell you that you have the pregnancy glow.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You roll your eyes at the glow comment because you know the truth is that you are sweaty, bloated, tired, and have friends that are full of crap.
1st-You think you can eat anything you want because it is finally okay to gain weight.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You realize you cannot eat anything you want because you are still recovering from that binge from the first pregnancy.
1st-You take all of the pregnancy classes, read all of the books and consider yourself an expert on all things baby related.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You realize you never knew anything about babies and only check the books when something does not feel right.
1st-You worry about embarrassing things happening during the birth, like (gasp) pooping while pushing the baby out.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-You do not care about anything but getting that back-breaking baby out.
1st-You pray for the little one growing inside of you and are humbled that you get to carry this life for such a sweet time.
2nd, 3rd, etc.-Well, maybe not everything is different.
The Kids
Friday, March 26, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Heartbeat
The sound of a heartbeat is a beautiful thing. It represents life, no matter the age.
I never fully appreciated hearing my children's heartbeats while I was pregnant with them, until I carried a child who did not have one. I was blessed with healthy pregnancies and took it for granted that everything would be okay. When I saw the ultrasound of our six week baby a few months ago and was told "There is no heartbeat," my world shattered.
However, God's mercies are new every morning. It may take many mornings to finally see the mercies, but they are there.
When I found out I was pregnant again so soon after the miscarriage, I was torn between excitement and fear. It was exciting to think about a new life, but I was too nervous to fully appreciate the reality of what was happening. Why should I get excited over something that might not last? After a miscarriage, the innocence is lost.
At my seven week appointment, the ultrasound tech (the same one who informed me that my third baby was not okay) started her routine. The moment I saw the flutter and even heard the "thump thump" of the heartbeat, tears flowed from my eyes. I felt more emotion in that moment than I ever did with my first two pregnancies. Not because this baby means more, but because I entered that appointment with a fear that I never felt with the others.
My joy was overflowing at the ten week appointment when I heard the heartbeat with the doppler. I watched Nick beam while Caleb listened in wonder at what he was hearing (and later heard Abby complain that she missed it while being at school, even though she was always with me to hear Caleb's). How can such a simple sound move this grown woman to tears every time?
As I quickly grow into maternity clothes and feel sick every afternoon, I am joyful because of the life that is growing inside of me. His mercies are indeed new every morning.
I never fully appreciated hearing my children's heartbeats while I was pregnant with them, until I carried a child who did not have one. I was blessed with healthy pregnancies and took it for granted that everything would be okay. When I saw the ultrasound of our six week baby a few months ago and was told "There is no heartbeat," my world shattered.
However, God's mercies are new every morning. It may take many mornings to finally see the mercies, but they are there.
When I found out I was pregnant again so soon after the miscarriage, I was torn between excitement and fear. It was exciting to think about a new life, but I was too nervous to fully appreciate the reality of what was happening. Why should I get excited over something that might not last? After a miscarriage, the innocence is lost.
At my seven week appointment, the ultrasound tech (the same one who informed me that my third baby was not okay) started her routine. The moment I saw the flutter and even heard the "thump thump" of the heartbeat, tears flowed from my eyes. I felt more emotion in that moment than I ever did with my first two pregnancies. Not because this baby means more, but because I entered that appointment with a fear that I never felt with the others.
My joy was overflowing at the ten week appointment when I heard the heartbeat with the doppler. I watched Nick beam while Caleb listened in wonder at what he was hearing (and later heard Abby complain that she missed it while being at school, even though she was always with me to hear Caleb's). How can such a simple sound move this grown woman to tears every time?
As I quickly grow into maternity clothes and feel sick every afternoon, I am joyful because of the life that is growing inside of me. His mercies are indeed new every morning.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
My Sensitive Daughter
The news was on in the background while I checked my morning email and Abby played in the living room. One clip caught her attention because she heard a little girl's voice. The story was about a young girl who had her foot caught in an escalator. It was pulled into the machine and they showed a picture of her shoe that was torn to shreds and they talked about the bruises on her foot.
Abby walked over to me and said, "Hearing that made me feel scared." I explained that it was a one time thing, that people ride the escalators all of the time, etc. A few minutes later, I walked into the dining room where she was standing and asked if she was okay. She said, "I just can't stop thinking about that story." She then proceeded to throw up her breakfast all over the table.
While I stood there in shock at what I had just witnessed, I finally got my act together and hugged her and cleaned her up. I have never seen someone get so sick over a story that does not involve them that they lose their food.
Then I got to thinking about my own reactions to life and wondered why I do not get more upset over the tragedies of life. When I think about the numbers of life lost every day due to starvation, abortion, war...am I so used to hearing about it that I have become numb? If I am to have a heart like Jesus, where is my compassion?
Abby walked over to me and said, "Hearing that made me feel scared." I explained that it was a one time thing, that people ride the escalators all of the time, etc. A few minutes later, I walked into the dining room where she was standing and asked if she was okay. She said, "I just can't stop thinking about that story." She then proceeded to throw up her breakfast all over the table.
While I stood there in shock at what I had just witnessed, I finally got my act together and hugged her and cleaned her up. I have never seen someone get so sick over a story that does not involve them that they lose their food.
Then I got to thinking about my own reactions to life and wondered why I do not get more upset over the tragedies of life. When I think about the numbers of life lost every day due to starvation, abortion, war...am I so used to hearing about it that I have become numb? If I am to have a heart like Jesus, where is my compassion?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Sense Of Direction
Nick and I were driving to a family wedding yesterday. We left with plenty of time, but somehow what should have been a simple drive turned into a bunch of little annoyances.
It started with the fact that it was raining. What is it that turns such a large number of drivers into complete morons when faced with a little drizzle? Really, must one hit the brakes continually?
We got about ten minutes down the road where the right lane suddenly ends, in which we were in. Nick had been trying to merge for awhile, but again-the morons with their brakes were on the road. He finally started to get over and a car behind him suddenly sped up to keep him from merging. Fine-the driver must have been in a hurry. But, wait! This particular person decided to go 17 mph once in front of us.
Now, the mature thing would have been to complain, yet leave this person be. But, we were in a hurry, trying to reach our seats in the pew before the bride walked down the aisle, so Nick did the only thing he could-he tailed the car.
We could tell the driver and his wife were older, mostly because their heads barely stuck out above the seats. That is why we were surprised when the man decided to slow down even more to 12 mph. Yes, 12 mph. Granted the speed limit in that town is 25 mph, but 12? Of course we were in the mini van so everyone weaving around impatiently behind us thought it was our fault for the delay (which it partly was). We could have tried to pass in the no passing zone, but it is one of those towns where the police sit everywhere just waiting for a chance to catch such crazy people.
The slowpoke finally turned left and I kept repeating, "Do not flip him off, Nick, do not flip him off." Nick took the high road and kept his finger to himself. Then I looked over and noticed a lovely bird being thrown our way. I am still wondering whether that wrinkled finger was the man or the woman-either way, it was quite a sight.
We continued on our way, reaching the church five minutes before the ceremony was to start, joined the numerous rows of Rosenfeldts and slid into our seats as the seating of the mothers began. At least it was a fun excuse as to why we were late. "You see, we got stuck behind an old couple that went really slow and then flipped us off."
The adventures continued when we left the church to head to the reception. I was telling Nick where to go, in which he commented, "Why do I need you to tell me where to go in my city?"
As you continue to read, you will find the answer to this question.
I directed him to where everything was finally familiar and kept warning him to get in the right lane because we had to turn soon. As we sped past the road we were supposed to turn right on, he figured he would just keep going and turn at the next road. A mile later I stopped him from turning at the next right as that would have taken us around in the opposite direction and we continued for another mile. Once we reached the road that would take us right down to the reception, he decided to turn right. Ignoring my protests to keep going straight, he said, "I know where I'm going-this way is quicker."
While I continued to explain what the reception was near, he said, "You didn't tell me that! I should have gone straight!"
Really?
I showed him a shortcut to avoid going all the way down the hill in the opposite direction (again, he was wondering how I knew these roads in his city) and we were almost there. We could see the building and the guests filing into the lovely hall of food and drinks. We could see the band and lights as we drove past it while Nick looked for the second parking lot that he thought existed.
With the reception hall in our rearview mirrors, Nick continued on for a place to turn around. His anger grew as we passed the entrances and exits for the interstate and we finally found a place of business in which to turn around. We finally pulled into the correct parking lot, noticed everyone parking further down behind the building and Nick makes a left up the hill to park next to the front door.
I bit my tongue to say that the open spot was probably for handicapped people and had to keep from laughing when the sign said, "Reserved for the bride's parents." My mouth watered at the idea of cheese & crackers and an open bar as he slowly backed down the hill, carefully avoiding the guests who were walking up the hill in the rain (in the back of my mind wondering why he did not at least drop me off at the front door since we were just there) and he finally found a spot to park. Even that last moment was full of, "I'm sticking out too far! Do I have more room? Can you get out and check?"
(Once he saw the look on my face with my heels on and the rain pouring down, he got out and checked himself.)
After eight years of marriage, one would think that Nick would learn to trust my sense of direction. Even in his city.
*To note: Nick is much better than me at so many things and this is why I am able to laugh about this story. He knows I love him and respect him and only write this in humor.
It started with the fact that it was raining. What is it that turns such a large number of drivers into complete morons when faced with a little drizzle? Really, must one hit the brakes continually?
We got about ten minutes down the road where the right lane suddenly ends, in which we were in. Nick had been trying to merge for awhile, but again-the morons with their brakes were on the road. He finally started to get over and a car behind him suddenly sped up to keep him from merging. Fine-the driver must have been in a hurry. But, wait! This particular person decided to go 17 mph once in front of us.
Now, the mature thing would have been to complain, yet leave this person be. But, we were in a hurry, trying to reach our seats in the pew before the bride walked down the aisle, so Nick did the only thing he could-he tailed the car.
We could tell the driver and his wife were older, mostly because their heads barely stuck out above the seats. That is why we were surprised when the man decided to slow down even more to 12 mph. Yes, 12 mph. Granted the speed limit in that town is 25 mph, but 12? Of course we were in the mini van so everyone weaving around impatiently behind us thought it was our fault for the delay (which it partly was). We could have tried to pass in the no passing zone, but it is one of those towns where the police sit everywhere just waiting for a chance to catch such crazy people.
The slowpoke finally turned left and I kept repeating, "Do not flip him off, Nick, do not flip him off." Nick took the high road and kept his finger to himself. Then I looked over and noticed a lovely bird being thrown our way. I am still wondering whether that wrinkled finger was the man or the woman-either way, it was quite a sight.
We continued on our way, reaching the church five minutes before the ceremony was to start, joined the numerous rows of Rosenfeldts and slid into our seats as the seating of the mothers began. At least it was a fun excuse as to why we were late. "You see, we got stuck behind an old couple that went really slow and then flipped us off."
The adventures continued when we left the church to head to the reception. I was telling Nick where to go, in which he commented, "Why do I need you to tell me where to go in my city?"
As you continue to read, you will find the answer to this question.
I directed him to where everything was finally familiar and kept warning him to get in the right lane because we had to turn soon. As we sped past the road we were supposed to turn right on, he figured he would just keep going and turn at the next road. A mile later I stopped him from turning at the next right as that would have taken us around in the opposite direction and we continued for another mile. Once we reached the road that would take us right down to the reception, he decided to turn right. Ignoring my protests to keep going straight, he said, "I know where I'm going-this way is quicker."
While I continued to explain what the reception was near, he said, "You didn't tell me that! I should have gone straight!"
Really?
I showed him a shortcut to avoid going all the way down the hill in the opposite direction (again, he was wondering how I knew these roads in his city) and we were almost there. We could see the building and the guests filing into the lovely hall of food and drinks. We could see the band and lights as we drove past it while Nick looked for the second parking lot that he thought existed.
With the reception hall in our rearview mirrors, Nick continued on for a place to turn around. His anger grew as we passed the entrances and exits for the interstate and we finally found a place of business in which to turn around. We finally pulled into the correct parking lot, noticed everyone parking further down behind the building and Nick makes a left up the hill to park next to the front door.
I bit my tongue to say that the open spot was probably for handicapped people and had to keep from laughing when the sign said, "Reserved for the bride's parents." My mouth watered at the idea of cheese & crackers and an open bar as he slowly backed down the hill, carefully avoiding the guests who were walking up the hill in the rain (in the back of my mind wondering why he did not at least drop me off at the front door since we were just there) and he finally found a spot to park. Even that last moment was full of, "I'm sticking out too far! Do I have more room? Can you get out and check?"
(Once he saw the look on my face with my heels on and the rain pouring down, he got out and checked himself.)
After eight years of marriage, one would think that Nick would learn to trust my sense of direction. Even in his city.
*To note: Nick is much better than me at so many things and this is why I am able to laugh about this story. He knows I love him and respect him and only write this in humor.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Girl's Day
I took Abby with me today to get our hair cut at the salon. I was curious to how it would go, considering she is used to getting her hair cut at Cookie Cutters, which is full of fun chairs, personal dvd players and a slide for when one is waiting his or her turn.
Personally, I prefer my place. I relax while my girl, Lindsay, washes my hair, conditions it and wraps my head in a hot towel for a few minutes. Then I savor the moments where she cuts and styles it because I am not the one doing it.
Apparently, my daughter takes after me. She had a delightful time feeling like a princess. I could see her in the mirrors while she got her hair washed and she could not stop smiling. While she got her hair cut, she chattered up a storm with her stylist. The best was when the hair dryer complete with a disfuser came out-that just about made her day.
She loudly exclaimed in the midst of her treatment, "I always want to get my hair done here from now on!" Sure Abby. Get a job to pay for it first.
Thank you Nick for the gift card that was entirely for me. Sharing it on this mother/daughter day was totally worth it.
However, my next hair cut appointment will be without children. As lovely as today was, let's face it-there is a reason women leave their kids at home to enjoy their precious hour of bliss.
Personally, I prefer my place. I relax while my girl, Lindsay, washes my hair, conditions it and wraps my head in a hot towel for a few minutes. Then I savor the moments where she cuts and styles it because I am not the one doing it.
Apparently, my daughter takes after me. She had a delightful time feeling like a princess. I could see her in the mirrors while she got her hair washed and she could not stop smiling. While she got her hair cut, she chattered up a storm with her stylist. The best was when the hair dryer complete with a disfuser came out-that just about made her day.
She loudly exclaimed in the midst of her treatment, "I always want to get my hair done here from now on!" Sure Abby. Get a job to pay for it first.
Thank you Nick for the gift card that was entirely for me. Sharing it on this mother/daughter day was totally worth it.
However, my next hair cut appointment will be without children. As lovely as today was, let's face it-there is a reason women leave their kids at home to enjoy their precious hour of bliss.
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