I'm BaaaaAAAaaack... :)

Whew!  The beginning of this week was so rough, but I'm happy to report the end of this week is leaps and bounds beyond what I was feeling!  Unfortunately the medicine I was prescribed in the ER didn't help my nausea.  By Thursday, I wasn't keeping anything down again.  Thursday night, I decided to try an over the counter medication several people had mentioned.  The two active ingredients of Diclegis (the only Category A pregnancy drug: meaning it's been tested and found safe for baby and mama) are doxylamine succinate and vitamin B6.  DS is the active ingredient in Unisom (a sleep-aid), and B6 is sold in the vitamin section.  I am taking a half a tablet of each of those twice a day and feeling much better.  My nausea isn't completely gone, and I have been sick occasionally, but it's TOTALLY manageable.  I'm able to function again, and so happy about it!  I even got to take Lyla to the zoo with friends yesterday!   It was so great to have a fun day with her out of the house.

I had a successful trip to the grocery store today!  The first one in over a month!  I'm cooking a meal I loved when I was pregnant with Lyla as we speak (a taco casserole), and I'm sipping on a delicious glass of dark chocolate almond milk.  I cleaned my house this morning, took a nice bubbly bath- things are returning to normal!
So far with this pregnancy, I haven't had many cravings.  Chocolate milk has been on my mind the past few days, but dairy is one of the things I have the least amount of tolerance for.  Enter chocolate almond milk.  Delicious. Nutritious.  Super yummy!  Aside from that, I've been loving sour cream and onion chips.  It's so weird.  Flavored chips to non-pregnant Becky = stinky and repulsive.  Pregnant Becky =  *sniff sniff* pass 'em over!  :)
I'm so happy to have a more light hearted post to share.  I've been enjoying myself and have had a chance to re-center my thoughts to include more gratitude, hope, and love for my family.  <3

24 Hours

For 24 hours, I thought I was losing my baby.  I thought it wasn't growing. I thought it wasn't healthy.  I was completely terrified of that loss.  I was completely terrified I hadn't given my baby enough nourishment.
For 24 hours, I wondered how women who suffered miscarriage were ever brave enough to try again.  I wondered how they were able to wake up one day without a pregnancy and without a baby, and were expected to continue on.
For 24 hours, I thought about how I would explain to Lyla that our baby wasn't in my tummy anymore.  I thought about how I would handle her questions, her sweetness, and her disappointment.  I thought about the baby I'm carrying every time I watched Lyla play or listened to her sing.  Would this baby be like her?  Would they be completely different?
We scheduled an ultrasound for Wednesday evening at 5:00pm.  The technician agreed to let us come in at the end of her work day, so that we wouldn't be wondering about the healthy of our baby for another night, and I was/am so grateful.
All day I went back and forth between thinking about the "what if"s, to hoping for the best, to trying not to think at all.
When we got to the appointment, I laid down on the table, took a deep breath, and the ultrasound technician immediately found  a beautiful bouncing, healthy, 10 week old baby peanut.  Perfect little arms, legs, and body. Perfect little cord.  Growing little placenta. Everything looked wonderful. I cried, and laughed, and watched.  I watched the baby in my belly play and wave. I watched Dustin and Lyla look on as we explained just what we were looking at.  It was wonderful, sweet relief. I'm so very thankful, now more than ever, for this little blessing.

Meet healthy little Walker Baby #2:

Out of My Hands

I have felt so outside of myself this week. Several times, I felt like I was observing life around me, unable to participate, and totally out of control.  Out of control.  Realizing that a part of my life is out of my hands is completely terrifying to me.  I love to plan.  I like to have a handle on things. I love to decide my next steps, and carry them out exactly as I imagined them.  And a lot of times, that mentality leaves me knocked down, somehow surprised when I realize, yet again, that absolute control is impossible.

For the past 3 years, I have been planning this pregnancy and birth.  I have been studying and learning everything I can to achieve a natural, peaceful, blissful, comfortable 9 months of growth and preparation before achieving a natural, peaceful, blissful, and comfortable birth.  I had no intentions of suffering through this pregnancy.  I 10,000% believed I had learned how to remedy every pregnancy discomfort with an array of natural options to keep myself and my baby healthy.  I had no doubt in my mind I would sail through a beautiful pregnancy without the aid of medication.  I knew better this time, so I would do better.  (Is anyone else going to be surprised to see my riderless high horse in the next paragraph?)  

This week shocked me into reality.  It hurt.  It completely took me by surprise.  It absolutely humbled me.  I realized immediately how arrogant I sounded.  I knew if I was listening to myself ramble about how I just hadn't planned to be sick this time, I would think I was crazy.  But I wasn't.  I had just convinced myself that I had more control than I actually did.  I teach and believe in positive thinking.   I believe you should prepare yourself and think positively about your body and your birth.  I still believe that.  Unfortunately, in this case, I had almost completely removed myself from my reality.  I was sick. Nothing I was trying was working, and  I wasn't getting any better.  I faced more judgement than empathy when talking to other moms in both the natural and mainstream camps.  I realized how frustrating it can be to have unsolicited advice pour in with the complete absence of empathy.  I recognized that I have been guilty of the same thing multiple times, and that even with the best of intentions, it's still 100% obnoxious. If this has taught me nothing else, it is that each situation is unique, and every mother needs support and empathy more than she will ever need your expertise, advice, or judgement.  I am hopeful it will make me a better friend and teacher, and a more compassionate human overall.

For the last month, my toddler has been left with a lump of a mother who, on some days, couldn't walk without vomiting.  My husband spent the last 4-5 weeks playing the role of provider, housekeeper, and pulling more than his regular share of parenting shifts.  I wasn't functioning.  I had lost 7 lbs.  I was crying.  I was constantly thirsty, and my stomach muscles were sore.  I was miserable.  I wasn't suffering from "Morning Sickness".  I wasn't just nauseated.  I was barely making it most days.  I was determined to get better on my own, and it was costing my entire family.

I'm not going to say I was acting crazy or that my concerns didn't have merit. There is no medication for pregnancy that is without risk, and I wanted all of my baby's organs to be developed (which happens around 10 weeks gestation) before I started taking anything.  We made it to 10 weeks on Monday.

On Tuesday, we went to urgent care.  I hadn't kept down liquids for a couple of days.  I had a fever.  I felt awful.  I cried the whole way there in disbelief.  The urgent care doctor checked me over and sent me to the emergency room.    Immediately, I started to worry that I waited too long.  That I had put  my baby at risk in an effort to not put my baby at risk.  I cried the whole way to the hospital.  When we got there, they gave me medicine to take orally.  When I continued to dry heave, they told me they were going to start fluids and more medicine through an IV.  The doctor handed me a hospital gown to put on.  Lyla shrieked and told him she LOVES ball gowns!  He explained that it wasn't quite a ball gown, but when I put it on, she told me I looked beautiful, and that my gown looked like Cinderella's wedding dress.  (It didn't.  It was white...but the similarities ended there.)

Before they started the IV, a resident came in with a bedside ultrasound machine.  He told me he wanted to do a quick check of the baby.  He found a small sack and a little blob.  He asked us again how far along we were.  I said just over 10 weeks.  He told me my baby could only be about 5/6 weeks old.  It had a heartbeat, but the timing didn't add up.  I must have my dates wrong.  But I knew I didn't.  He turned it off, told me the machines are low quality and not to worry too much, but to follow up with my midwife.  I finished my IV and felt physically better, except that, now, I was completely terrified.

One Sweet Beat

When I was pregnant with Lyles, Dustin got me a wonderful birthday present- a fetal heart beat monitor!  I know more now than I did 3 years ago about ultrasound safety, and I know I won't be listening as frequently or as intently as I did the first time around.  However, I did want to take a quick listen earlier this week to see if I was able to pick anything up!  It didn't take long before I heard the pitter patter of our newest little love, and it took my breath away just as much as it did the first time I heard Lyla's!
I made a quick recording on my phone and then left the little guy/girl alone.  I knew before I heard that heart beat that my nausea, vomiting, and exhaustion were all helping to grow a life, but hearing my second's little heart beating so strongly renewed my sense of purpose and gave me a little bit extra spring in my step.  It's a miraculous to me.  With as little as my body has been able to give this small person, it's continuing to grow and develop.
My baby's heart beat sounds perfect.  It's surely the heart beat of an intelligent, kind, funny, beautiful little human in the making. <3  Take a listen, and tell me I'm wrong. ;)

Bloom Where You're Planted

I was texting with my sister this morning as she was waiting to board her flight to Guatemala.  She and Juj are going to be there for a week on a dental mission trip.  She will assist him as they provide free dental work for local people while sharing their faith at the same time.  I was talking to her about the last day or so, and how incredibly sick I have been.  Since the time I woke up yesterday morning, if I sit up, stand up, or walk- I throw up (or dry heave when there is nothing left to give).  Nothing stays down, and I literally can't be upright without running to the bathroom.  Kat made the connection that my babies were like Sour Patch Kids.  "First they're sour, then they're sweet!"  It seems silly, but it actually helped me to hear that.

I'm realllly consumed with the "sour".   I can't see past the now to the sweetness I know is coming.  Yes, logically, I know that when I have this baby, my morning sickness will disappear, and I will be blessed beyond measure by the life of another little human that is sure to shape me into a better person and mother...but honestly, I'm not lounging around all day thinking about how blessed I am to be pregnant or thanking God for this new life. I'm not maintaining a positive "it's all for the cause" outlook.  I'm whiny.  I feel sorry for myself.  I feel guilty for the way my sickness is impacting my family, and I'm cranky.   

I find myself sometimes wishing away this whole part of my life.  Begging the next several months to go by quickly.  Here's the problem with that.  I'm missing everything that's happening now.  I'm missing out on Lyla's last few months of our undivided attention.  I'm missing out us being a family of 3.  For a toddler, 9 months is a significant chunk of her life.  I can't just wish it away.  Realistically, I know that from now until October is not going to be one big vacation.  I know that I even if I was just a big ball of sunshine all the time, I may not be able to function as well as I would like to make every day the best it could possibly be.  But there has to be a middle ground.  I came across this graphic yesterday, and it was exactly what I needed to see: 

I need to bloom where I'm planted.  I need to make the very best of the next several months.  Not just for myself, but for my family. I may spend a lot of time in the bathroom. My house may be is messier than ever.  Many of our activities may have to be done from the couch, and I'm 100% sure Lyla will watch way too much TV.  But I can hold her as she does.  I can do my best to soak up every minute with her, and make her feel like a priority, even if we aren't at the park, library, museum or zoo every day.  I am hopeful that the first trimester is the worst of it, and that maybe I only have a few more weeks of feeling this way this time around.  But I can't just keep waiting for that.  My job is to be the best mom and wife that I can be today as I look forward to the sweetness that I know is coming. 

I'm 8 Weeks Pregnant..And I Don't Care Who Knows It!

Original Plan: Wait until about 8-10 weeks before we told family or close friends about this pregnancy.

Day 1: We told family and close friends.

Original Plan: We will wait to tell everyone else until the first trimester.  

Week 6.5: We announce our pregnancy on social media.

While I completely understand waiting until the second trimester to announce a pregnancy, and chose to do so with Lyla, several things have changed over the last three years that had me rethinking the decision.  

First of all, I am just so excited!  I know the blessing that is having a child, and I don't think there would have been a way for me to keep that inside for another month.  I just couldn't!  I have a hard time waiting to give birthday presents, and this was exponentially harder to keep secret!

Secondly, for me, the first trimester of pregnancy is the hardest.  I'm sick.  I'm tired, and let's face it...I basically give up cooking and cleaning.  Keeping my pregnancy a secret for the first 12 weeks means that, during the most emotionally and physically trying time of my pregnancy, I basically have to keep to myself, and pretend that all is well.  It was easier to do last time because I wasn't caring for a toddler. I wasn't even working in the beginning.  I had summer vacation to lounge around and hunch over the toilet to my heart's content. I'm so thankful that I've been able to ask for help this time.  

Lastly, the obvious reason.  We should all wait until our pregnancy reaches the second trimester, because then it's more likely to remain viable.  If you tell everyone, you better be up for "untelling everyone."  

Well, let me just share my thoughts on that.  Over the past few years, I have seen friends silently suffer through miscarriage, only to find out about it after the lost pregnancy after sufficient time has passed.  I have had students contact me about classes early on in pregnancy, only to lose their baby before class even begins.  Each time, they ask the same questions, "What could I have done differently?  Is there anything I can do to prevent this from happening again?".  The answer? Nothing.  Miscarriage occurs in 1 in 5 pregnancies.  (1 in 4 if you look at first time pregnancies alone.)  It's devastatingly common, but many moms don't know that.  Because we keep it a secret.  Because it's something that families endure alone.  

The loss of a life, at any age, is tragic.  And it matters.  And it counts.  No one would ask a family who loses a child they have held in their arms to grieve silently or without support, and the moment a woman finds out she is pregnant, that baby's life is held in her heart.  She is a mother to it. She plans a future for it.  She dreams about its personality.  She hopes for its success. When a pregnancy is lost, not only does a woman have to grieve the loss of her baby, but she has to grieve the loss of the future and dreams she had for her family.  I pray that I never experience miscarriage.  I pray that this baby continues to grow healthy and strong, (and because you know about it, you can join me in those prayers from the beginning).  And if I ever did have to go through that, I wouldn't want to do it silently.  I would want the life of my child recognized.  I would want to be supported, and I would want other mothers to know that miscarriage can happen to anyone. 

This is obviously a personal preference.  Some might prefer to grieve and heal silently, and that's perfectly fine.  I'm not suggesting everyone must spill the beans as soon as they see that second line appear.  But I would also caution against discouraging anyone from sharing early on if they so wish.  Miscarriage isn't shameful.  All life should be celebrated. & every pregnant mama should have the support of her family and friends whenever she needs it.

Here is my first bump picture!  About 2 months!

50 Shades of Green

It's not surprising that this pregnancy is strikingly similar to my last. Around week 6, my days of occasional morning sickness (beginning in early week 5) change into days of constant toilet hugging, nausea and the inability to keep anything down.  This was all expected.
Something that is unique to this pregnancy is the addition of a toddler. A toddler who, in my eyes, deserves the world, and all the loving attention her mama can offer.  In my previous pregnancy, I had a job.  It had regular hours, weekends off, and even the occasional sick day.  While being a SAHM has been my favorite career to date, my time clock runs constantly, and, unfortunately, the guilt of the way this pregnancy is effecting my first baby is the absolute worst side effect I have experienced.
My first major hormonal ugly cry happened this morning.  Luckily, Lyla was upstairs playing with her dollhouse, and after throwing up the grapes I had just sent Dustin to the store on a special trip to buy, I went into the living room, called the hubs over, and let the pregnant lady feelings flow.  It went something like this (just add in sniffles and the occasional gasp):

When I found out I was expecting, of course I was over the moon.  After imagining life as a family of four, my thoughts then went to life as a family of 3.  I knew having a baby would add so much to all of our lives, but I also made plans to enjoy this pregnancy and the next several months as my time as a mommy to one came to a close.  Initially, I was doing a great job of soaking it all up, and pouring into Lyla, but the sicker I feel, understandably, the less I was playing.  Instead of being in the play house with Lyla, I set up camp looking out from the porch to where Lyla played and tried not to move.  She has been so sweet to me it hurts; bringing me peppermints as I come out of the bathroom, and telling me I will feel better.  I  have also watched her immediately cover her ears when I begin to run to the bathroom.  I have listened to her explain to a friend, "It's okay...my mamas just frowin' up again!"  She has told me she doesn't like it when I'm sick.    I've seen frustration on her face when I tell her I need to sit down for a moment.  And this is only. week. 6.

I realize, rationally, that I have little control over how my body experiences pregnancy.  I can only do my best to keep our day to day as routine as possible.  I know Lyla may be annoyed with the nausea, fatigue and vomiting- personally, I'm SUPER annoyed with it....but she is also 3.  She copes with new situations in ways that amaze me every day, and I have to believe we will make our way through this transition together, too.  She's still a happy little girl at the end of the day, and just this morning she asked me, "Mama, why do you love me so much?"  (Cue tears again.)

In the end, the next several months may or may not improve.  They may or may not be really hard.  "Every pregnancy is different."  I can't possibly know exactly what to expect.  But there are some things I know for sure...
I know I won't feel like this forever.
I know my baby will be born.
I know the love in my heart will grow exponentially.
I know our family will be enriched.
I know every single one of us, including- and maybe even especially Lyla- will be blessed by the addition of this new life.
and that's all I really need to know.