2nd child syndrome

I have a whole folder full of Avery's ultrasound pictures tucked safely away in her baby box -- 6 weeks, 9 weeks, 12 weeks, 18 weeks, 30 weeks, 37 weeks.  I had one hanging on the refrigerator throughout my entire pregnancy. And I always had one in my purse ready to show off wherever I could. I was so proud of my little gummy bear!

This time around, the picture on this blog is all there is. Literally. There was an envelope with these 12-week originals and there was a pile from the 6-week ultrasound too. But they've all mysteriously disappeared. I didn't have a chance to show them off to anybody. Not even my mother.

I was the second child in my family. When I was pregnant with Avery, I asked my mother if I could look at my own baby book. She searched and searched and searched and finally concluded that maybe she just never made one. 

So I guess this is the way it goes. I'm so sorry Baby Bahama. It looks like you have officially contracted the second child syndrome.

Dear Avery -- 7 months old

Dear Avery,

I am writing this letter 2 weeks late because you give me very little time to write these days! You are one busy little girl -- crawling all over the place and getting into everything. Half the time I am literally out of breath from chasing you. 

Oh and the other day I went to get you after a nap and there you were, standing up in your crib with your head and arms dangling over the side -- you almost gave me a heart attack!! Daddy and Papa lowered the crib that night! 

These pictures were from the day you turned 7 months old. We took you to Lake Massapoag where Mommy grew up. It was such a wonderful, special day. Daddy and I love you so much.

Love,

Mommy

introducing Baby Bahama!

Yes, it really is a baby in there with a real beating heart, real waving arms and real kicking feet. It's official -- I am really having another baby!

good-bye to my skinny jeans

I remember about a week after Avery was born, I braved it up, pulled out my skinny jeans and tried to squeeze myself into them. I could barely get one leg in. It was depressing. But I kept working at it. 

I also remember the day a month or two later that I got both legs in. And I remember the day I zipped them all the way up. Pure bliss. 

I've worn those beautiful skinny jeans just about every day since. (And I've washed them a thousand times too due to all the spit-up). The bottoms are now frayed and just a week or so ago I noticed a tiny little tear in the left knee that has since grown into a full-blown hole. My jeans have been like my post-partum blankie. I don't go anywhere without them.

Sadly, though, I think our relationship is coming to an end. I am wearing them right now as I type this. But I have to be honest, I'm not very comfortable. I've got a muffin top and it doesn't feel good. And here's a confession -- sometimes when I'm driving, I actually unzip them and let my belly out. 

Last time around I couldn't wait to wear my maternity clothes. I had nothing but pure pride for my elastic waist bands and tent shirts. This time around is very different. I look at my maternity wardrobe and I feel a certain loathing. I swear, I just packed it all up.

I've dreaded this day. But I think it might be time. Goodbye skinny jeans. Welcome back maternity. 

Look Who's Crawling!

can I be clear on something?

I love my daughter. I love her incredibly, more uniquely than anything I've ever loved in my life. It's a love that is pure and unconditional and from the deepest part of my core. She is my biggest joy and my greatest pride. I have moments with her that are so sweet and and wonderful I want to box them up and save them forever. I can honestly say she is the best gift I have ever been given.

But like any mother, I have moments that are difficult too. Motherhood is hard. I do love it, but it's much harder than I ever thought it would be. Adjusting to being a SAHM is hard too. Wonderful, yes. But also hard. Being pregnant while raising a 6-month-old is hard too. Also wonderful. But also hard.

I try not to show my frustrations to my daughter. I don't yell at her. I don't ignore her. Even in my most annoyed state, even when I am lugging her under my arm while pushing a stroller uphill, I paint a smile on my face and kiss her forehead and tell her in my gentlest voice that I love her. 

Because I do.

well that wasn't fun

Avery is having a 30-minute nap kind of day. What's new. I really am trying to just let it go. But it makes for a VEEEEEEERRRRRRYYYYYYYY long day when nap-time is only 30 minutes. So my husband suggested taking her for a walk. It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Why not, right?

I'll tell you why not. Avery decided exactly half-way through our neighborhood loop that she didn't want to be in the stroller anymore. She wanted OUT and she wanted OUT NOW! I realized then that I forgot to bring the ergo carrier with me. I also forgot my cell phone. Nobody was coming to save us. And let me tell you, her screaming doesn't die down in a situation like this. It gets worse and worse and worse and louder and louder and louder. There was only one solution. 

So off we went -- a 17-pound baby in one arm and a giant jogging stroller in the other. Bugs in my face, sweat on my back and my panti-liner bunched up in my undies. Yes I am still wearing panti-liners almost 7 months after delivery. I know I need to do my kegels but I barely have time to breathe, never mind remember to flex. Sorry I digress.

We walked over a mile like that, most of it up-hill. Do you know how heavy 17 pounds is after a mile?!?!? I'm sure I was breaking some cardinal rule of pregnancy with this one. But what choice did I have?

I'm trying to enjoy my beautiful baby girl. I really am. But all I could think was "well this isn't fun." In fact, I said that right out loud for all the world to hear. THIS ISN'T FUN AT ALL!!!!! 

My hands are full. Literally. How I am going to make room in them for another precious, helpless, needy little life? Can somebody please tell me how on earth am I going to do this?