House Arrest

Stuff and Nonsense

Sorry for the delay in updating post-vacay. There is some negative stuff happening in my professional life that has been keeping me busy and silent. Things are finally coming to a resolution, and, well, it's just not going to be pretty. I can't really talk about it further, but if you're worried, we're fine for now. I'm just anxious about the future, and, well, anxiety makes me quiet.

I do have a bunch of other stuff I can update you on, though, so this post won't be all "cloak and dagger."

For starters, I made a small photo album of our WV vacation to share with those keeping up.

I'd actually made a MyPublisher scrapbook for the family that turned out REALLY well, and was going to link to the online version of it. However, their online albums leave A LOT to be desired. You can barely see the pictures or read the captions on them so I said skrew all that and picked a few select photos to share. (The printed books themselves are fabu, though.)

Second, I've got a health update. Remember when I posted, oh about 4 months ago, that I had bizarre tingling that might have been caused by a vitamin B12 deficiency? Well... the vitamin B12 I was taking was doing bupkis. I just kept feeling worse and when I woke up with both arms numb last week, I decided that enough was enough. I decided to get a second opinion and contacted the folks at Columbia Eastside for a wellness consult. I had so much luck with their docs and the practice there for my maternity that I was willing to take a blind risk on the rest of their services.

Well, I met with a Doctor Nurse Practitioner in their CAPNA group. They specialize in primary care and in dealing with the "whole" patient. They're equipped to prescribe and refer to specialists, which is basically what my old doc was doing for me, so I squashed the whole, "But you're not a doctor..." thing and went for it.

I'm sooooo glad I did. For starters, she asked me more questions than any doctor has EVER asked me. I brought along my bloodwork results from my previous doctor's visit -- from now on I will always ask for a copy of my results! Soooo helpful!  -- and she went over them with a fine-toothed comb. (She was surprised by the sheer number of tests and called it a "million dollar workup" a couple of times.)  She reviewed them along with all the other write-ups from the chest and back x-rays, the EEG and the nerve test I'd had. All had been normal, of course, which is why I'd been frustrated when the "take more vitamins and stretch" routine wasn't making me better.

She circled the abnormal stuff along the way and admitted that she needed to look up a certain panel she didn't know. (A plus since my doctor said it was something that it wasn't. I Googled.) 

Then she stopped and asked me if my doctor had done anything about my abysmally low thyroid.

Um, why, NO, he hadn't. Abysmally? I believe the term my doctor had used was "slightly out of whack..."

Well, my thyroid tested at 0.007 back in May. The normal range is 0.35 - 5.5. So, at best my thyroid is functioning at 2% at the LOW end of the norm!

My vitamin B12 was 199. The norm is 211 - 911.

Jee-zus. Talk about glaring and obvious.

Anyway, long story short, she doesn't think it's just my thyroid because of other symptoms she coaxed out of me. Stuff I would not have thought to mention came out as she asked, "Do you also have XYZ in ABC?" and the light bulb would go off in my head and I'd be like, "Why, yes. Yes I do." I could tell that she was going through some sort of mental checklist in her head and I was just confirming her hunch.

I might still have an autoimmune disorder but she suspects the main problem is with my pituitary. She sent me for some additional bloodwork -- it was funny because she kept debating about which tests to send me for as she didn't want to go for anything "unnecessary" as she obviously thought my previous doctor had done -- and I have a follow up on Wednesday. If the stuff for the pituitary shows up, then I get an MRI. If not, we can begin treating the thyroid.

I just feel overall better because a) I feel I was finally listened to as a patient and b) there is an end in sight. I don't know how far away it is, but she assured me that we would get to the bottom of it. She said we would treat each thing one at a time, and that she knew it'd be frustrating for a little bit but that we'd get there.

Seriously, that was the best news I'd had in a long time. She seemed genuinely interested in helping me and I have forever changed my idea about NPs. I've been so run down, so tired, so crabby, sooooo not me... And it sucks.

The main reason I want to be well is so that I can be a more active mom to these two:

They're growing up fast, aren't they?

I'll update you on knitting on Wednesday, but for those on Ravelry, you can visit my quasi-updated project pages...

Too Damned Fat

Over the weekend, I'd decided that I'd had enough.

I was sick and tired of not being able to button my jackets closed. I was frustrated by the fact that ALL my waistbands left welts in my flesh at the end of the day because of their breath-restricting tightness. I was fed up with wearing my skirts higher than my natural waist so that I could close them. I was annoyed that my skirts rode up... but the linings didn't because those molded themselves to my saddlebags.

I decided that I needed to buy some "fat clothes" until the "making it" of my diet caught up with the "faking it" of how good I looked and felt. I hadn't been faking it all that well, either, since I felt neither good nor looked it. And, while I'd been hardcore working the plan for two weeks, I knew it would take months to lose the weight and regain my confidence and aplomb.

It so happened that Chadwicks was having a "secret web sale" with huge markdowns. I figured that if I need to buy fat clothes, I might as well buy them cheap since I was hoping not to have to wear them for very long. I shopped on and off for a few hours searching for a couple of jackets and skirts that I liked.

I remembered that, for whatever reason, Chadwicks' clothes seemed to run on the small side for me. So I decide to err on the side of caution and order everything TWO sizes bigger than what I was currently wearing. (I'm currently shoe-horning myself into larger size 10s and regular 12s.)

Well the clothes arrived today, in their size 14 glory.

And they were tight.

Not as tight as my size 10s, but as tight or tighter than most of my size 12s. And that really bummed me out.

I'd honestly thought that the clothes would be loose. That I really wasn't as fat as a size 14.

(And before you go crying, "A 14 isn't fat." I know. I was 186lbs and a size 18 not too long ago. I was pushing the lower boundaries of the "Plus" size world then. All that being said, a 14 feels fat to me now.)

The fact that my new "fat clothes" are in fact not really fat clothes just makes me feel like I've got eight million more miles ahead of me. It makes me feel like I should quit already and stop making myself miserable over calculating points, counting calories, trying to fit in that extra walk somehow.

But I know I'll be even more miserable if I quit so I'm going to try hard not too.

In the meantime, I'll just have to tell the little voice in my head to stop chanting "Fatty fatty two by four..."

Anxiety and Omelettes

I started off by writing about my fears. About how I can't watch the news any more or read stories about things that happen to children. Of a horrible, scary dream I had a month ago that I woke from in terror and that left me in a foul mood for days. I wrote about my irrational fears about the hurts and dangers out there, the things lurking round the corner.

And I decided as I was writing that the details were just getting to be too much for me. That as cathartic as a post like this would have been to the "old" me, it really wasn't helping the me that now is.

Those of you who've been reading my ramblings for a while know that I have anxiety issues. I used to take Xanax and Wellbutrin to help cope. It was an interesting concoction that I didn't manage well, truth be told. I weaned myself off them and dealt with my anxiety flare-ups as they came.  Sometimes well. Sometimes, not so well. But dealt I did.

Since having Hunter and Aden, I've worked hard to keep my anxiety at bay without need for extra meds or treatment. To be even and whole.

But every now and then, a story or article will hit me and my anxiety will start gearing itself up. I can feel my body getting into flight or fight mode. My heart races and my mind zooms through the ten billion horrible scenarios and I feel my throat closing in, causing me to be unable to breathe.

So far I've been able to stop it.  And I hope to continue to be able to do so.

Oddly, what I find helps is thinking about the funny things the kids are doing. Like enjoying omelettes... and learning the dog likes them too:

Engaging Passions

One billion degrees
It's like one billion degrees
It's like one trillion degrees
From the hot parking lot
To the sand that is not so cool

Soooooo hot. And so much to say. Ugh. I'll try to get some of it out before I melt dead away...

Sorry for the long absence here. I have been refocusing on myself lately and that has led to a not insignificant period of introspection. I've been thinking about many things -- from losing the now 30 excess pounds that I am carrying to actively focusing on where my career is heading to diving fully back into crafting.

Rest assured, knitting has always been done. In fact, the Milan Jackets are at the most boring point of needing one half a sleeve to have all the knitting be done. Then I can move onto finishing them both. (This will probably be the LAST time I knit two of anything. Maybe...)

I knit every single day on my commute to and from work, so I always have some progress to show. As such, I have a bazillion projects in progress (oh my fickle heart) and in queue. Knitting satisfies me... but aggravates my carpal tunnel. And in the summer, I don't want to work on it at night in my un-air conditioned room. (The babies, bless their souls, have a/c in their room.) The yarns all stick to me and make me feel, well... gross.

So in keeping with wanting to craft and finish more -- and keeping my hand out of the proverbial cookie jar -- I have turned my eye back to a forgotten passion. One that, of course, necessitated buying even MORE furniture and moving stuff out of the kiddos' bedroom -- which was good, because they were starting to try to get into stuff they shouldn't be in...

If you can't tell from the picture above, at night my heart turns to sewing and quilting. (And, Tar-jay, as usual, rocks. Awesome sewing table, 15% discount and free shipping!) Oh, and yes, the cats do think the table was brought in just for them.

I know you're thinking, "but what about the stuff the kiddos wanted?" Well, Hunter nearly pulled the sewing machine on her head and Aden "walked" his jumperoo around the room -- putting him within reach of certain items (cough, scissors, cough) that his forgetful mom didn't stow safely away. (These items are ALL. GONE. NOW.)

I will admit that I can't sew a perfectly straight line yet, but I expect a summer of progress -- and a few purchased seaming guides -- will get me there. I've been working on a few simple pieces -- pre-printed soft books, coasters -- and will pick up on piecing quilts soon.

In other news, I've decided to fully go back on Weight Watchers (and to try to get on the boards at least ONCE a day when I can), update my resume -- just in case, you know?-- and spend more time trying to have fun with my kids and husband.

After all, they're my biggest passion...

Cupcakes and Teeth

I promise I'll stop doing this soon, but look:

June 2, 2007

June 2, 2008

What a difference a year makes! And check out all those teeth!

The kiddos have been using those chompers a lot recently. They're finally getting a bit more adventurous about food, although Aden will make the "banana face" after trying something new more often than not. The funny thing is that even though he's making the face, he won't spit the food out! He'll just hold it in his mouth until it totally dissolves or he swallows it. Weird hunh?

Speaking of food...

Hunter likes play food almost as much as she likes real food!

Pattern: Cupcake from Blah Blah Blahhg

Yes, that was a rarely sighted knitting appearance on the blog. Trust me, there will be more and frequently. Currently I've actively (meaning I'm working on them pretty steadily) got the following on the needles: White Toddler Sweater, Milan Jackets and a new Grand Plan Capelet for moi. (All previous are links to my project pages on Ravelry.)

What happened to all the lace, etc.? Those projects are still around but the babies are growing fast and I want to finish their items before they outgrow them. After all, I'd like for them to get a few good wearings out of the stuff I make. That and the lace takes a bit more concentration and I tend to work on it slower. So, I've put those projects on hold until after I'm done with all the kid knits. In the meantime, I cast on for the Grand Plan Capelet this weekend because I wanted something to work on at night that would keep me from mindlessly snacking.

You see, work has gotten really busy and a bit stressful and all I want to do is eat eat eat when I get home. That is after I've worked until 8 or 9 and had dinner from the vending machine. Hell, I've had diet coke and Doritos for lunch far too often as of late and my waistline and skin are not forgiving me for abusing them so. Also, I've got a quirky weird health problem going on that could be anything from a pinched nerve to an overreaction to all the stress in my life to the first signs of an autoimmune disorder. So on top of working like a dog, I've been running around to various doctors trying to make sure that I'm not going to keel over any time soon. So far, all I've gotten is a vague, "You're as healthy as a horse -- despite your slightly out of whack thyroid, your vitamin B12 deficiency and that bizarre pins and needle tingling that is migrating through your body," and an admonition to exercise daily, eat better and take massive doses of B12.

Great.

Meanwhile the fact remains that I've been having a really hard time losing weight. (Gee, I wonder why?) I am at the very least 25 pounds heavier than I should be and fairly miserable about it. I've been yo-yoing for months, steadily getting heavier from month to month. Lose 5, gain 7. You get the picture. Now that I have no real diagnosis, I'm even more frustrated.

But I've made the decision to go back on Weight Watchers and to forcibly take control of at least this part of my life. To REALLY WORK on myself. Even if it doesn't affect my other health issues, eating healthier and losing some weight will help me get over being depressed about my body.

That and I'll have to knit less to make something to fit me!

Shifted Schedules

The babies schedules' have shifted a bit since we went to West Virginia. I used to be able to get them in bed by 9 at the latest but now they are going to bed closer to 10 pm.

As you can imagine, the loss of more free time hasn't been easy to deal with.

For one, the time after the babies were asleep was when I would get mundane tasks done like checking e-mail, paying bills, prepping the next day's brown bag breakfast and lunch.

This week, I've barely had time to get in a regular ole evening meal in for myself.

This has been stressing me more than usual since I'd decided to get back on track and finally lose the rest of the "baby weight." I was in the high 140s when I returned to work and only had about 15 lbs to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight.

Now, I'm looking at closer to 30 and it depresses me. I hate getting dressed each day because NONE of my clothes fit well anymore. I can't button my suit jackets and I hate seeing my belly bulge and ruin the line of my tailored clothes.

To top it off, I've found it much harder to lose those 30 odd pounds than I thought. Every time I make an effort to lose weight, it works as long as I can maintain my focus — which seems to be a week or two at most.

I'd figured that once I put my mind to it, I'd be good to go and the weight would come off. But I haven't been able to consistently keep my mind on things. I can't seem to find the time to prep a salad, to pack up a lunch, to prep a huge low-fat stew. All of the tricks that I relied on when I first lost the weight seem impossible to employ now because of the constant lack of time. Everything from making sure that we actually have food in the house to planning a menu has been falling by the wayside and I'm caught trying to stem the tide.

And, to make things worse, now that the babies are going to bed later and later and later, I'm pretty much dead on my feet once they are asleep. Last night I wanted to pass out at 10:30 but I forced myself to hold out until 11:30 or so. I managed to finish the seed stitch ribbing (row 18) and worked plain stockinette as the pattern called for until row 30.

It was great to make that much progress but I was literally nodding off at the end of the last row I did.

I'm planning to try to get 20 rows done today. That is, if I'm not crashing hard at the end of the day.

Getting Ready

Yesterday I cleaned out my closet and went through all of my maternity clothes. I put most of the stuff in a bag to put in our lobby downstairs. Folks often do that here, leaving old printers or fans with notes saying "Old but still works!" or bags of clothes with "Don't fit me anymore. Enjoy!"

Originally, I'd wanted to donate my clothes to someplace but I honestly didn't have the energy — I sense a recurring theme — to pack the stuff up and lug it or ship it someplace. A few folks on one of my boards suggested that I E-bay the stuff but most of my maternity clothes were Gap or Old Navy which I didn't expect would be worth trying to sell.

The note on my bag said "Maternity clothes. Please take. Good to perfect condition." I had Mark put it in the lobby and when we go out later I'll see how much has been taken from it. Hopefully there's another woman who was a pre-pregnancy size 8 to 10 in the building (or who has a friend that is) that can use the clothes.

I didn't put all my maternity clothes in the bag, though. I did keep most of the plain buttondowns for the time being since my rack is still pretty huge. I've quit pumping — I've finally made peace with my body and my expectations of what it can do — so hopefully my chest will go back down before I return to work and I will be able to get rid of those later. I also kept all of the pants that were in the "no panel" style since I still have a little bit of a belly and, aside from the yoga pants I've been living out of, those have been good for bumming around in right now.

I sent a bunch of my suits to the dry cleaner and re-organized my closet so that my suits are now the main focus again. I've got a uniform thing happening — black suit and white short-sleeved baby tee — that makes getting dressed in the morning a no-brainer. If I want to be uber-fancy or have an important meeting, I break out the iron and wear one of the blouses in my closet, but that's usually rare for me because I'm always pressed for time in the mornings.

I haven't tried any of my suits on yet but I'm optimistic that most of them will fit. I've lost 37 out of the 40 pounds that I gained during pregnancy but I want to lose 13 more pounds, since I'd gained 10 during my infertility treatments and started my pregnancy at a higher weight than I'd hoped. My suits were getting a little on the tight side back then and I want to be comfortable in them again. One huge concern is that my breasts won't shrink once I've completely stopped pumping. The nice ladies over on the WW boards clued me into the possibility that might happen. If so, my jackets won't fit right since I was a C prior to delivering and am currently a really full DD.

Still, I can't really complain too much about it. There are women who would kill to have their figure 90% back less than two months after delivery. I know pumping and running around are responsible for the rapid weight loss, though, so I'll have to go back to being on a diet as soon as I return to work when both of these activities will decrease. In the meantime, I am going to buy at least two suits that fit perfectly at my current size so that I can a) feel good about myself and b) have something to wear to really important meetings. There's been a lot of change in my department since I've been away — some good, some not so good — and I want to feel as professional as possible while getting back into the swing of things.

It's a wee bit frightening to think that I'll be leaving the kiddos soon. They'll be in Dad's capable hands of course, but still... I know how hard it is for me to handle them alone sometimes. It's nice knowing that I can get Mark to help me out when things like feeding them both at the same time don't work out quite as well as planned.

When I go back, he won't have the option of reaching out to me, of having me close at hand. I know he'll manage, but I expect the first few weeks to be rocky as hell.

P.S. Totally unrelated but I keep buying books and yarn to make the kids outfits. Like this one:

That's one thing that I can look forward to about going back to work — I get back my knitting time on my commute.

P.P.S. When feeding both at the same time does go well, it looks like this:

Breast Intentions

Matt: How's things at home, mama?
Me: I'm twins-whipped
Me: I'm their bitch
Matt: Yeah you are
Matt: You're their milk bitch
Me: Exactly
Matt: They're laying there like,"Wow, this whole pooping thing feels weird"
Matt: Then all of a sudden they think "HEY! Where's that milk bitch?!"
Matt: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
Me: Now imagine that times two and you've got it perfectly

Breastfeeding is exhausting.

Scratch that.

Pumping milk every 2 - 3 hours and feeding it to your twins back to back every 3 hours is exhausting.

Yesterday I brought up my frustration about pumping to Mark. I'd been secretly wanting to quit for weeks because I've felt pretty much done, but I'd been keeping it from him. I thought that he would be majorly disappointed if I decided to quit or, worse, a bit put out by the amount of money we've spent on the pump and it's supplies. Instead, he said that he'd been thinking that maybe I should quit also. He could see that it was taking an emotional and physical toll on me.

The life that I've been living is not what I'd envisioned when I made the commitment to give my babies breastmilk. Their prematurity and the NICU time pretty much changed the initial gameplan, but I was willing to still work through it. I'd read so many accounts of people who successfully nursed their twins after the NICU and who made it work out. It took time, perseverance, patience. I was okay with the idea of supplementing with formula — a necessity since I wasn't making enough — and not at all bothered by the thought that I would pretty much have to wear both babies full time for a while until they got the hang of things.

Two weeks later, I'm still stuck and resentful. Instead of being able to make it work, to freely feed a baby any time, I pump. I go through what is now an exhausting, stressful, major time suck every few hours in order to give my babies milk.

I realized that I'd been feeling like I never got to hold or enjoy my babies because I was always too busy rushing to pump or fill their bottles or feed them. I wasn't getting to lovingly look into their eyes like the books say you should. To take that "It's just you and me, kid" moment and talk to him/her while feeding. Instead, I'd been too busy looking at the clock, wondering if I could get my next pump in before the other's fussing would turn to wailing. Or stressing about the fact that only five of their eight feeds would be breastmilk because I wasn't producing enough.

But every time I ventured to the "I need to fucking quit doing this or I'll lose my mind" point, one or both of us would say, "It's the best thing for the babies" or "Formula for two is gonna be expensive..." and I would be talked off the ledge. Until the next time when I realized I needed to feed two hungry and fussy babies at the exact same time because they'd synched up their hunger yet again despite our best efforts to keep them a half hour apart — AND — I needed to pump since it had been far too long since my last session and my boobs were starting to hurt and leak real bad.

Good times.

The most frustrating thing has been that my milk supply has been steadily decreasing since the twins came home. I can hazard several guesses as to why this might be happening — missed pumps, using a good quality but NOT hospital grade breastpump, not pumping until empty because I've had to cut the session short to soothe a child, clogged ducts, blocked pores. All of this has been happening in the face of my efforts to increase my milk production.

Great.

So I've been working twice as hard to make more milk and instead barely have enough. Now, I'm pretty sure that I make enough milk to feed one baby pretty well. And if I had just one baby, I'd be managing a lot better since I would have time to actually let the child nurse. My supply would be managed by said baby and I'd be able to pump to get extra. And that was my gameplan. To get one baby to nurse and eventually get both on board.

Of course, that's not at all how it's worked out. Aden doesn't care for real nipples right now. My boob in his face doesn't interest him — imagine that! — since, compared to the bottle, it's too hard to get milk out. And to be honest, we didn't want to stress him or cause him to lose weight. So I've only latched him on once or twice and pretty much gone straight for the bottle when I saw that he was getting frustrated. The no-brainer, then, was to get Hunter to feed first since she has fewer issues.

Right.

I have successfully latched Hunter on several times and she's actually taken a full meal at the breast. But the few times I've fed her she's taken over an hour to eat and get full. And that was well after we'd gotten her settled and worked through her fussiness.

So what's the problem? The problem is that I'm not Shiva, Quan Yin or some other multi-armed deity. I have to hold my baby at the breast. Heck, I have to hold the fucking breast. I have to support a floppy head on its seemingly useless neck to bottlefeed. So I can't feed Aden a bottle at the same time that I'm trying to feed Hunter from the breast. And Aden will not wait an hour to eat. Maybe ten minutes, maybe fifteen tops. But taking Hunter off the breast before she was done led to tears and shrieking.

God, those shrieks.

And even if I could, somehow, get them an hour apart, I'd still need something to feed Aden with. Even if I wore Hunter 24/7 as I tried one day — it lasted about three hours — I would still need to pump breastmilk for Aden. It looks deceptively simple on the surface, until you start trying to do it. And you wind up with hungry, angry babies.

And, trust me, when you have two babies starting to wail their little heads off, you will opt for the simplest solution.

To pump. And bottlefeed. Until you are sick of it all or can figure something else out.

I'll bring back the lightheartedness in a few days when I talk about Fisher Price's Rainforest gear. Right now, I gotta go pump.

4000 Calories

Reading When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets, or Quads brought me to tears several times this weekend. This book made me feel that there was no way in hell that I would be able to have a healthy set of triplets.

There were various admonitions encouraging the multiples mom to reduce stress, practically eliminate exercise, drastically cut back on work -- 6 hours per day?!? -- and to lie down as much as humanly possible. I could deal with most of it as I read it, realizing that while things stuck in my craw at that moment, I would eventually come around to understanding why I shouldn't vaccuum my apartment or why it was necessary to wuss out at work. (6 hours? What planet are they on?!?)

The book's main emphasis, however, was on putting on weight -- LOTS of it and fast. REALLY FAST. According to the text putting on weight is the absolute most important thing that I can do aside from going to see my doctor and taking it easy. As it stands, I'm supposed to have gained 15 - 20 pounds by week 10. I'm at week 9 and I thought that I was overdoing it with my six pound gain! But instead, I feel like I'm putting the sea monkeys' lives in danger because I'm not eating every 2 - 3 of my waking hours (their recommendation).

The consequences of not gaining weight are painted in fairly simple terms: don't gain weight and your baby winds up in NICU for longer with more severe problems. Obviously, I don't want that, so I have to eat. A lot. And drink more water than I ever thought possible (128 oz per day). It seemed doable until I read the recommendation for triplets...

They recommend a whopping 4,000 calories daily for triplets. A daily breakdown works out to 10 servings of dairy, 5 vegetables, 8 fruits, 12 grains, 7 fats, 2 eggs (since when are eggs a food group?) and 3 protein. And by protein they really want you to consume red meat, for a total of 9 oz a day. I had to doublecheck the copyright on the book to make sure that it was published within the last decade!

I was honestly shocked to find that it was. I have the 2004 version and apparently they added a few pages to browbeat help vegetarian moms choose quality meat protein sources for their potentially baby-harming and completely inadequate special diets. The authors were so kind to include a handy comparison chart showing almighty red meat against puny legumes. Yeah, the book is heavy-handed on some things but it allegedly has the data backing up its claims.

Of course the book realizes that this amount of food comes as a shock so they temper it by recommending you create checklists of what you need to eat and motivate yourself with thoughts of how big and healthy your babies are growing as you check off the items. They even suggest cutting out little tape rulers depicting a baby's head diameter at a certain week as a motivational aide. Personally, I find this mega-creepy and somewhat demotivating.

(Let's not mention the motivational techniques they give for being on bed rest. That was another chapter that was made my left eye twitch.)

After reading the three chapters on diet, I truly had a severe panic moment where I felt the world closing in around me. 4,000 calories a day seems insurmountable to a woman who is used to eating no more than 1,800 calories (okay maybe 2,000) -- and being stuffed and satisfied on them. Especially when the bulk of those calories are supposed to be healthy. (The authors are okay with occasionally supplementing the healthy with Mickey D's and full-fat milkshakes.)

I went out to the kitchen and showed Mark the book, and in tears said, "There's NO WAY I can eat 4,000 calories a day."

So what am I going to do? I don't see the Maternal-Fetal Health specialist until next Tuesday but according to this book I need to be packing on the weight NOW. But... what if my specialist disagrees or thinks the book is a bit overboard or suggests something different?

Limbo again. My favorite place to be... not.

Keep growing lil sea monkeys. We'll get this all straightened out soon.

Nausea and Diet

First off, WOW and thanks for all the happy, happy notes. I was out sick yesterday, partially from exhaustion from having to work this weekend and partially because I was dealing with my first real bout of morning sickness. But, your words really brightened and cheered up an otherwise dreary day. I'm planning to write everyone back individually, but that won't happen before the weekend so I want to say THANK YOU. Mark and I are really happy -- well, happy is an understatement. Mark's freaking ecstatic; I'm extremely happy but still very cautious.

As I mentioned, I'm finally getting my first pangs of morning sickness. It's not been too bad so far, but I know that this is just the beginning. I'd been managing fine with decaf with sugar, toast and my pre-natal vitamin in the morning, but yesterday the exhaustion compounded things and it was just all too much.

This morning was bad enough to keep me down for a bit longer than I'm used to. It took me forever to get to work and I still haven't been able to shake that "something's stuck in the back of my throat" feeling. I've spent most of the day being alternately  repulsed or made hungry by the smells around me, sometimes both in the span of seconds. The smell of bacon, for example, has been driving me crazy. I want the biggest, juiciest, dripping with fat... Erm, on second thought. Blech!

We have a follow-up ultrasound in two weeks to see how the sea monkeys are doing. (Yes, I will write down the story of how the sea monkeys came to be called, well, sea monkeys...) Hopefully (knock on wood) things will continue to go well and I'll be able to start seeing a regular OB/GYN.

In the meantime, I'm working on being MUCH more careful with my diet. No more fat-filled muffins for breakfast or big slabs of blondies or brownies as snacks. I developed some really good, healthy habits while on Weight Watchers -- drinking tons of water, eating low-fat, etc. -- and now it's time to go back to them. For the most part, my diet has been on the good side, but I've seriously been slacking on some of the healthy guidelines.

I've been reading up on nutrition for pregnant women and, inspired by this article, have decided to start toting a lunch tote packed with snacks to combat the mid-morning and afternoon munchies. Today I packed a kid-sized box of calcium-fortified juice, Yo-Baby all-natural cereal and fruit yogurt, an individual serving-sized fruit cocktail and small baggies of cheerios. I'll probably make my own trail mix and get some string cheese too as those are easy to tote around.

Ironically I'm eating food marketed towards and packaged for toddlers, but what the hell. As long as I'm not eating as much junk, I don't care who it's marketed towards. My diet is in need of improvement, so improving it I am.

After all, I have a couple of sea monkeys that need me to look out for them.

We're rooting for you, sea monkey. Grow, grow, grow!