The Second Tri

What a whirlwind of a month it's been.  Last week, my coworkers and I put the final touches on an enormous new gallery at the museum that some of us (me included) have been working on for over seven years now. That's longer than I've been married, in case you're curious.  This has been a project that has followed me throughout my various roles at the museum, from intern to executive assistant to assistant collections manager (and now database administrator).  This new gallery is a really big deal, and it's been a big part of my life, and I am so, so, so proud of how it turned out.

[caption id="attachment_2389" align="aligncenter" width="300"] At the gallery opening gala[/caption]

This weekend, we are moving into our new home. It's about an hour from the house we have shared since 2003, and it's both an emotional move... and a really exciting weekend for me! I'm a little nervous about all the change. Not only will we be an hour from friends, favorite grocery stores, comfortable routines... I'll also begin working from home three days a week. Yeah. SCARY!


But then take a look at this kitchen!!!  I'm dying and on my way to heaven.  I just can't wait to get started!  I plan to throw a pot of chili on the stove first thing tomorrow morning, as the UHaul and our friends (our dear, dear friends) arrive to move us in, college style with beer and pizza and the chili I cook in my new home.

So in pregnancy news, I've been at the funny point where I don't feel like crap all the time anymore, but I also don't really feel the baby move a whole lot.  If I slouch (which I do) I look more fat than pregnant.  And sometimes I have a hard time realizing what all is going on in there.  So it was a huge relief to go to my 16 week (plus 4 days) appointment this morning and hear that strong, constant galloping heartbeat from within my tummy.  And even more exciting was making the appointment for the 18-week anatomy scan on Monday the 7th!  In just over a week, we'll know just a little bit more about our newest family member.

In case you're curious, I'm really convinced this is a girl.

What a pain!

I know I had lower back aches during my previous two pregnancies.  I remember stretching on the floor of my cubicle, trying to ease the kinks a little.  But I also remember that stretching helped and made life bearable.

Not so this time around.  I woke up Sunday morning and couldn't stand.  I couldn't get up out of bed to stand.  It was excruciating and impossible.  I rested as best I could, stretched when I could bear it to no avail, and even took one or two ibuprofen to try to ease things.  Yesterday, I was able to move around enough to get to work.  But once I was at my desk, that was it.  Sitting hurt.  Standing hurt.  Walking brought me to tears.  So I called my doctor.

At fifteen weeks pregnant, I am allowed to take ibuprofen.  Sweet, blessed ibuprofen!  My doctor told me 800mg three times a day.  I cried happy tears when I heard that.  And even happier tears when she recommended a chiropractor, and gave me a name and number.

I had my first ever chiropractic appointment this morning.  I had no idea the appointment would be so involved!  I had pictured telling the doctor what and where I hurt, a quick adjustment, and that would be that.  Oh no.

First, I wrote out what hurt.  Where it hurt.  How much it hurt.  If it had ever hurt before.  If my family had a history of the same hurt.  If my best friend's cousin had ever practiced voodoo.  The list went on.

Next, the nurse measured and tested my spine with a thing hooked up to a computer, to show which vertebrae were most stressed (note: all of them).  Next, the doctor felt, poked, prodded, pushed, and pulled to see what hurt, what didn't, if I was numb (yes) and where.

After the initial assessment, I was given an adjustment.  Normally, the doctor wouldn't give an adjustment on the first visit.  Normally, the first visit would be for X-rays and stuff.  But since I'm pregnant and x-rays aren't allowed, he was able to give me the adjustment instead.  He used an instrument to move things around in a very precise manner.  It felt like hammers on my back - not the most comfortable experience, but I felt an immediate change.  Next, he twisted and pulled and popped part of my back.  Followed by a large yank of my leg and hip.  A huge pop, and even more change in my back.

Still pain, oh yes.  But less... pinchy.  More dull.  A smidge less hurty.

The adjustment was followed by PT.  Some leg movements with an elastic band (that were way more difficult that I thought they'd be).  Some pelvic movement on an exercise ball (that felt really good).  Some balancing on a balance board (that made me feel like a really dorky looking surfer.

Then therapy.  OMG.  Ten minutes dozing in a dark room on a warm, cozy dry whirlpool bed.  Warm jets gently massaging my sore back with a whooshing noise that was so calming and restful and wonderful.  I was sad when the nurse came to turn it off and help me up.

I'll go back on Thursday to go over my initial test results more thoroughly and to set up a plan of care.  As of now, I made it to the train, rode the train, got to work, assisted a museum visitor, and am back at my desk (with a heating pad in place).  I'm still sore, and I feel really exhausted, but I haven't cried from pain yet today.  I'm walking a little faster than a ninety-year-old with her walker.  I consider that a win.

I'll never do...

I'm sure you have that list of things you once said, "Oh, I'll never do XYZ when I'm a parent! NEVER!"

I have had that list, too.  At the top of the list was that I was never, ever in a million years pushing one of those enormous, germy shopping carts with the toy car attached.  Not sure what I'm talking about?  See below:

And then one day, I found myself at the store with a 3 1/2 year old who begged to sit in the cart and a 15 month old who was just not setting right in the front pack when lo! A golden ray of light shone down upon the Car Cart - one of two at my grocery store - right next to the doors, waiting for me.  It was Laura and Gavin's dream come true.  And it wasn't quite as tricky to push as I feared.

Back to school

It's so funny, watching the Facebook feed blow up with back to school photos and stories.  Funny because I can't believe some of the kids I've loved for years are old enough for kindergarten, or even college in some cases!  Little cousins who sent me their kindergarten art projects to hang on my walls at college are now off to their own first dorms.  (Aside: I should have Laura send THEM some drawings for their walls!)

It's funny also because I am completely focused on Laura and Gavin's LAST day of school in less than a month.  October 2 will be their last day at the daycare that has brought so much drama to my life over the past 3 years.  I cannot WAIT to get out of this daycare.  I'll miss certain children and their moms, but we can always visit them.

I absolutely 100% will not miss the trashy owner, the rude office managers, the curriculum that I've never seen enacted.  I won't miss the director, the teachers, the tired classrooms.  Typing it all out, I can't believe we stayed at this daycare as long as we have.  But now that I have the last day of school on a calendar, I can't wait to get there!

And after a few weeks break from daycare during the month of October, I'm sure I'll be just as ready for Laura and Gavin's first day at their new school.  Maybe I'll even take pictures.

September

July was crazy and exciting and terrifying and all the things with finding ourselves pregnant with a third, buying a new house, and starting a new job.

August was hard and sad and frustrating with losing beloved family members, selling a house, not really knowing how to do the new job, and really feeling very pregnant and overwhelmed with a third.

So for September, I hope only for some positive outcomes.  Some showings on the house would be reassuring.  Some progress on the new job would be nice.  I'd love to feel like I'm not completely in over my ears here, adding a third child to our mix when Gavin is still so very... Gavin.  He is now able to get out of his crib, at 15 months old.

I watched on the video monitor how he calmly placed one foot through the crib slat onto the bookshelf, hoisted himself over the rail onto the top of the bookshelf, then shimmied onto the floor and out the door.  I curse the french door handles he has been able to open for months, and am planning where to move the bookshelf.  He spent the rest of the weekend napping (and roasting to death) in a fleece sleep sack, so he couldn't get footing on the shelf.

September: Please play nice.  I need a minute.