The woman next to me looks so uncomfortable! It's just after 11 pm and I am in the second-to-last, middle seat on a full flight from Vegas to Seattle. I bet she thought she'd have space to snooze and I ruined that.
I offer her my coat to use as a pillow and she graciously accepts.
I just spent 4 extra hours in the Vegas airport. My original flight was delayed and then "un" delayed. A handful of us missed the memo (and the flight) since we left the immediate gate. The next flight was delayed and then "re" delayed giving me plenty of time to observe and to be observed.
I typically keep to myself while traveling. But, it's true. Everyone loves a pregnant lady!
"How far along are you? You look great!"
"Do you want to go ahead of me?"
"How do you handle traveling for work? I want a baby and I'm not sure how to keep my job."
"Here, take an extra water. Do you need a snack?"
"Is this your first? You're going to have a blast."
And my favorite from a lovely lady with a 10-day old strapped to her.
"It's easier when they are inside but such miracle when they are out. Good luck!"
I have a few short, sweet conversations and then slink into my headphones aka the universal sign for "do-not-disturb."
I watch a grandmother feed her granddaughter and see a family of 6 (yikes!) have a picnic near their gate. A toddler breaks free from her dad using a giant Papa Smurf as a crash pad and another slides across the carpet trying to catch his sister.
I rarely notice kids. In fact, I kind of avoid them. But, I am so curious to understand the bond of unconditional love that's headed my way.
I get whispers of it when I feel her kick and connect to the fact that we made a baby.
I know I'll do more than I've dreamt possible to make her happy. I know that S will be a fierce protector and fall madly in love with her in an instant.
Alas, we wait. By why wait on kindness? I'm warm, my seat mate is cold. That's why she's asleep on my jacket.
Every pregnant woman (except my friend Lauren) is screened for Gestational Diabetes between weeks 24 and 28 of her pregnancy. Gestational Diabetes can complicate pregnancy, so early detection is important.
It’s unlikely that I am at-risk for this, but, I have resisted the screening for two reasons.
Flashback: In 1998, I thought I was pregnant. Although I had not had regular periods for a few years, I was SO tired and our condom use was less than admirable. I went to Planned Parenthood who did the standard intake procedures including a pregnancy test, hemoglobin and STD screen.
Results? I was not pregnant. However, I was “the most anemic person” in the Madison, WI-area. My insurance prevented a transfusion so I was put on a steady schedule of liquid iron supplementation until I got it back to a working level.
It was a rough 2 months. My teeth went grey, I burped-up metal and I had to shift my summer bike trip to a bike and sit trip.
My next doctor’s appointment is on Wednesday. So, I have to do it. Truth be told, you don’t even have to “fast.” You simply drink the drink after two food-free hours. Easy!
Since it’s a “travel day” (I leave for Seattle at 3 pm), I wake up late, drink coffee in bed, eat breakfast and then head to my favorite “prime time” class, Best Butt Ever. It’s really fun and full of the “ladies” who have early morning child duties and can hit the gym at 9 am.
I decide to go to the lab in Encinitas so that I can drop off my keys with Drew (my former house mate) and be done with that responsibility. I check in and am advised that I must drink the whole bottle in 10-minutes. The entire waiting room stares at me and I get a few “chug, chug, chugs!” for moral support. It’s not that bad. It tastes like dehydrated, concentrated McDonald’s Orange Drink. Baby T is happy or on her first sugar high—she is kicking like a Kung Fu Fighter.
For the next hour, I walk around my old ‘hood, creep into my old apartment to drop the keys and then return for a blood draw. Like I said, easy. Now, I wait.
How often are you truly "busy" VS. simply "trying to cram too much shit in?" For me, it's easy to hide behind a thin delusion of efficiency and mistake it for busyness.
Case and point--last Saturday, I made plans to meet a friend, Ryan, for coffee at 2:30. We decided to try out a new place in Little Italy--which is nearly 45 minutes from my new home. I haven't seen Brooke in a while and we often meet in Little Italy. I haven't been to my favorite yoga studio in months (also in Little Italy.) And, I haven't seen Sandy since my birthday. Perfect! I'll see if he wants to meet too, it's close enough.
What my day should have looked like (according to me): 6:30 wake-up; 7:30 cycling class; 9:00 breakfast; 9:30 shower; 10 out-the-door; 11 yoga with Brooke; 12:30 lunch with Brooke and Sandy; 2:30 coffee with Ryan (maybe Sandy too!).
However, S's pal came over Friday night with fresh-caught lobster. They invited a third and we had a fun dinner party with plenty of St. Pat's whiskey and Guiness' for the boys. I went to bed at 10, but had a tough time sleeping. 44 and still suffering from FOMO. WTF.
I slept off- and on from midnight to 6. I decided cycling is lame and turned off my alarm. Hold on, where is S? I found him on the couch, brought him to bed and stayed for another hour. New plan. I'd go for a hike and surprise Brooke by meeting her early (she had a paper to write and would skip yoga to hang with me after, she could not go to lunch because they had eaten out the night before). Easy--the rest of the day should be right on track.
Except, she changed her plans too. I showed up to surprise her. Surprise! No Brooke. I went to yoga and called her after. She was just leaving Chula so I suggested we meet in Hillcrest for easier parking. That way, I could meet Sandy closer to his home. But, she did not want to go to Peet's. She chose another spot. Fine. I hustled over. Little did I know, they had a second location and she was there. Grrrrrr. Back in my car. Zero chance I will be on time for Sandy so I bail. Blah.
Brooke and I do get a decent hour together. Then, I head back to Little Italy for my real plan--Ryan.
As always, it's fun. I am brightened by our little date. I am also beat. Baby T does NOT like the hustle. I head home at 5, stop for groceries and am happy to see S is done after a day of golf, so we chill.
Sunday is equally "busy." This pace was fine last year. Now, it just seems stupid. So, I decide to try something new this weekend. I get one plan on Saturday and don't get any plans Sunday. I simply "go with the flow."
I woke up rested--because, my one plan yesterday was to meet a friend for the matinee of "Neverland" in OC--easy and classy!
We got out of bed late. S finished his yard work while I prepped vegetables for the week. We took a long hike in the preserve behind the house, enjoyed an "al fresco" lunch and then relaxed for a bit before tackling the rest of our "chores."
I've been meaning to sweep and organize the garage. It will eventually be some sort of "man cave" /gym/guest house. Thankfully, S found a BB gun and Bocce Ball so we played lawn sports instead. I got a surprise call from a friend who was heading North and she stopped over to see my belly, meet S, catch up and cuddle with the hounds.
After a much-needed shower, I snuck out for a "Prenatal Foot Massage," and am enjoying a book before bed. Lesson learned. Cramming too much shit in a day simply means that I miss all of it! Yes, I "show up," but am not really present because I am too worried about what is next.
I didn’t get the job. I’m disappointed because I wanted to have a big, dramatic, unprofessional walk-out here. Not for any reason. I’ve simply never done that and it sounds so fun!
I’m actually bummed because it means the other candidate was “better.”
It doesn’t have to mean that.
In fact, we had a good discussion. They asked if I thought that I could have a solid strategy, data points and launch plan ready-to-go in October.
Well, I could. It would mean that I would spend the next 3 months busting my ass to develop it and prove that I could “do it all” while pregnant. It means that I would work longer hours at-work and at-home. It means I’d fit in workouts earlier and earlier. It means I’d be on the road doing focus groups and that I would have less time to spend with S and a lot more stress.
It means that I would shorten my maternity leave to 6 weeks (vs. the 4 months I am scheduled for today) and that I’d likely be distracted from the miracle of Baby T because I would be afraid of losing my new job--or I’d try to work right away from home.
It is better that I stay here. I enjoy the people that I work with and love the simplicity of my routine. I come and go as I please. I can leave to get to the gym or to meet friends for lunch. I can work-from-home on Fridays and I always have people to hustle new business ideas with.
It is better that I stay here because it is not about me. We have enough money. It’s more important I keep my health up and my stress down.
I am not a patient person. I know this. It’s something that I work on by talking about it, laughing about it and trying my best to recognize when I have done my part and need to let it go. Like now. I was recruited for, applied for, interviewed for and followed-up with all the players involved in hiring me for new job.
I was so confident 10-days ago. Now, all the self-doubt has crept in. They thought I was dumb. My dress was too low. They noticed I can’t walk in heels. My ideas were stupid. They don’t want to deal with maternity leave. They are going to pause on the position. They liked the other candidate better--he probably sent physical “thank-you” cards instead of e-mails.
But, I want it. I am the right person. I understand the market, I can do the work and I would be stoked to do it. Yes. I am very excited to have Baby T—even more now that S and I are together. And, I am also ready for a career change. I don’t see why I need to choose one or the other and I don’t. He is going to be an amazing father and partner and we certainly could use more money. Plus, I need a position that I am excited about that is part of a company that actually changes lives. So, I wait.
Well, not entirely. I am texting with the recruiter. He says they will decide by Wednesday, for real this time.
Shifting topics. I took today off to finish the “move.” I thought it would be harder. As always, I am lucky to have friends to help. Packing took under 4 hours (snaps to Lauren for keeping me on task) and S knocked out the heavy lifting with my former neighbor in half a day! Unpacking is on me. I am taking it easy. I have a room for my things and my own bathroom (amazing!). We sleep in S’s room and when I have to get up early (before 6), I will allegedly sleep downstairs.
It’s nice to have the free time. I took Jenny out to lunch for her new job. She deserves to be celebrated and it’s great to see the stress lifted off of her. She had her baby in August and did not qualify for Paid Maternity Leave or Job Protection since she is a German citizen. They were smart and saved to support a 6-month leave. But, money runs out—especially in So-Cal! It’s worth my time to start looking at my spending and am going to sign off to do exactly that.
I can't sleep. I am tired as F. I go to bed at a reasonable time and often take my Tylenol PM. But, the discomfort supersedes all of it.
To start with, I can't get comfortable. I start on my left side with a pillow wedged in-between my thighs. The trouble is that my left shoulder is super tight and the pain radiates down my arm. It's so intense, it keeps me awake. I flip to my back and freak out. I am not supposed to sleep on my back.
Next, I "jimmy" a pillow under my left hip and sleep in a weird side, stomach position. It's kind of like I am levitating and it never lasts more than 15-minutes. By now, my feet have started to cramp up and so, I pick up my phone.
Text updates: Jenny got a job! YAY! Julia had a good date. Josh sent his personal email (needed for Baby Shower invitation). Do I have any friends whose names don't start with "J?"
Email updates: Nothing interesting.
Internet search: "Trouble Sleeping" + "Pregnancy." There is plenty of information to keep me busy here! Whether insomnia is caused by leg cramps, frequent urination, shortness of breath, a big belly, baby kicks, or anxiety, it is real and I am not alone. I find some tips which include enlisting ye ole' partner to flex the feet when they cramp (to decrease the severity) or to give me a head, neck and back massage. I like it.
However, one look at sleeping beauty and it's clear. I will leave him alone. There is no reason for me to wake him up and have both of us cranky. Plus, I should save it for important things like the upcoming third-trimester cravings for ice cream, pickles and sex!
I turn my phone off and run through my "sleep" positions for a few more cycles. I definitely sleep for several uninterrupted hours and take it as a win!
Tonight will be better.