In denial

Yesterday, we went fishing. For some reason, I was thinking about camping next spring, when all of a sudden I realized we wouldn't be able to. We'll have a newborn then.

I think I'm in denial. I never thought we would wind up pregnant again. I honestly thought the Clomid wouldn't work again, so I didn't even prepare myself for the fact that it could. So, now I'm pregnant, and it's hard for me to believe it.

I did purchase a Pack n Play over the weekend. It's in a Winnie the Pooh print, and I think I'm going to do the room in that. It's a nice neutral shade of green and tan. We have to find "T" a twin or a full-size bed, because she sleeps with us and has agreed to let the baby have her bed. She's going to have to move into her room now.

I was also thinking of Christmas and how it's going to be so different this year without Granny. Last year, we were still in shock and denial about her death, so this year will be harder. It didn't even enter my mind that it will be different because of a new baby until much, much later. Maybe a new baby will help all of us heal and not be so sad at Christmas.

The name game

My grandmother died in December, and since then, I have thought I would name a new baby after her. Of course, no one likes her name: Alethea Pauline. I kind of like Alethea and call her Allie, if it's a girl, but my DH says we have to put his family in there somewhere. So, I would be stuck naming her Sarah Alethea, after his mother. No way, no how. No matter how much I love the name Sarah, I'm not going to name my child after my crazy mother-in-law. It just ain't gonna happen.

So, "T" wants to name the baby Zee if it's a girl. I think she got that off Noggin, because the bird on there is named "Zee." I've also thought about naming her after Granny's mother, Nancy Elizabeth. Granny loved her momma better than anything and missed her every day since she died over 65 years ago. She always described her momma as a saint, sort of how I feel about Granny. So, Nancy Elizabeth might be the perfect solution.

Now, a boy's name is a little easier. I still would like to name a boy after granny. "T" wants to name a boy Joe, and it so happens that I like the name Joe. So does DH. So, we've pretty much decided on Joseph Paul. The Paul would be for Pauline. "T" likes Joseph, too. She said, "That's a good name, but we'll call him Joe."

When we were pregnant with her, we didn't have a name for her until I was seven months pregnant. We were able to come up with a boy's name right away, but a girl's name was a lot tougher. Sort of like this time.

Gnawing hunger

I wake up hungry, then stay hungry over the course of the day. It doesn't matter what I eat or how much, I'm hungry again an hour later. It's like I'm eating Chinese food all the time. Hmm, that makes me want some. Great, it's 11:35 p.m. I don't know any 24-hour Chinese food places around here.

But seriously, I don't remember being this hungry when I was pregnant with "T." Maybe it was because I was so nauseus all the time. I didn't have time to get hungry between trips to the toilet.

Last night, I put everything together to cook a pot roast, pototoes, carrots and onions with gravy in the crockpot. This morning, I just set it on low and went out the door. All day long, I have fantasized about that pot roast. I just knew it was going to be delicious with macaroni and cheese, garlic green beans and cornbread. Then, I started to worry about whether I had set it to low. Then, I worried whether I had put enough liquid in it. All of this before noon.

The paper bought us lunch today for being accident free for 30-days. We had sandwiches and fruit. Usually, the sandwiches are that great, even if the fruit is. By 11 a.m., my mouth was watering at the thought of a sandwich. I was so hungry. I ate two sandwiches and a ton of fruit. It's a good thing they always give us too much.

Before I even went to pick up "T" this afternoon, I swung by home and checked on the roast. I got a taste of it. It was perfect. Later, everything else turned out great except for my cornbread. Tell me, how do you mess up cornbread? I thought it was the easiest thing in the world to make, but I did it.

If I keep this up, I'm going to gain back all of the weight I lost before I became pregnant. I lost 25 pounds since December by exercising and cutting out junk food. I know I'm going to gain weight, but I didn't think it would be this soon.

Five weeks tomorrow

I will be five weeks tomorrow, 5 down, 35 to go. It seems like it's going to take forever. I guess that's one of the problems with finding out so early.

Today, I did a little searching on the Internet and found a site that details what your body is going through week to week. In week five, I will suffer from sore and swollen breasts, feeling hungry often and nausea. I will also have to run to the bathroom every five minutes because my expanding uterus is pressing against my bladder. A five-week pregnant woman may feel lousy, and if she wasn't trying to conceive like I was, she might be wondering if she was pregnant. Since I found out practically at implantation (it just feels like it), I don't have to worry about what kind of pregnancy test to take. I'm just trying to push through the overwhelming fatigue and hunger. I feel like falling asleep in my plate.

Tomorrow, I go in for my first doctor's appointment. The receptionist said it's a confirmation appointment, but I've already had it confirmed with two blood tests. I can't understand why she can't call up Dr. LaRoche and get the results from them. Oh well. It gives me an excuse to be late for work, lol.

Will my lap be big enough for two?

As much as I wanted another child, I never believed it was going to happen. I honestly thought the Clomid wouldn't work this time, and "T" would be our one and only. So, needless to say, I'm quite shocked that the Clomid worked the second time around and that I'm going to be a momma again.

Now, the worry sets in. I worry if I'm not feeling sick enough, if my boobs aren't sore enough, if I'm not tired in the afternoon. Most of all, I worry about whether I'm going to be able to love both of them the same and not play favorites.

My mother and step-dad played favorites all of my life. I have sworn I'd never do that. But, I've had "T" in my life for nearly five years now. I don't simply love her because she's my child; I love her because of her personality -- her stubborness, her sassiness, her sweetness. I love her more now than I did when she was first born. Will I grow to love the other child as much? I don't want to play favorites at all.

I'm also worried about the things "T" and I have done together all of her life. She still falls asleep on my lap some nights watching television. Will my lap be able to hold both of them? Will that routine (one of my favorites) automatically have to change? She also sleeps in the bed with me. When "B" was on the road, it was because I was alone here, and her bedroom was all the way on the other side of the house.

Now, I'm going to have to move her to her own bed in her own bed. I won't be able to let the new baby sleep with me. It wouldn't be fair to "T" to let the new baby sleep in my bed when I have told her she can't anymore. How is that fair to either of them? "T" is going to miss out on something she loves to do, and the new baby is going to miss out on a wonderful bonding experience.

I know I'm giving "T" something she will appreciate in the long run. I know we've wanted to add to our family for a long time, and that it didn't feel complete before. But, knowing all of that in my brain doesn't keep my heart from wondering if I've done the right thing.

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I don't do pregnancy well

I'm going to tell you another dirty little secret. I hated being pregnant. The only parts I did like were feeling "T" kick, seeing her on the ultrasound and knowing in the end I would have the baby I longed for for so long.

I fully expected to love being pregnant. I swore never to complain no matter how sick I was, and I didn't. But, to be fully honest, I wanted to more than anything. I tried to smile no matter how many times I had paid homage to the porcelain gods that day.

You always hear, "Oh, you'll feel better by the second trimester." Nuh-uh. I didn't. I still threw up, but I was only more miserable because I was getting even fatter than I already was.

Most women hear about their healthy glow, but I didn't have one, not unless the blotchy red skin on my face constituted a healthy glow. My skin dried out and flaked, and my nose spread out all over my face. How can you look healthy like that?

It took me a long time to forget about how badly I do pregnancy. It's coming back to me, little by little, as my skin blotches and my stomach turns.

I felt cheated last time because I had wanted a beautiful and perfect pregnancy after having so much trouble conceiving. I guess I'll probably feel that way again this time, although knock on wood, I haven't started throwing up yet. I hope I'm not jinxing myself.

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Things I've learned since becoming a parent

I have learned a lot over the course of the last five years, and I'm hoping to use some of that with the new baby. Here are a few things:

1. Don't have any expections. I fully expected "T" to sleep through the night at six weeks, be walking by 10 months, talking in full sentences by the time she was a year old, potty trained by 18 months and reading by two. I can no look back on myself and laugh my head off. I didn't know I was going to be raising a child who was very independent and stubborn (I should have because I'm the say way).

She didn't the sleep through the night until she was about four months old, and we had trouble with night wakings until she was three. She doesn't like to sleep and believes she's missing out something by not staying awake. "T' could have walked by her first birthday, but she wanted everyone else to carry her. This didn't fit with the independence part, but it did fit with her stubborn side. She also didn't potty train until she was four. Yes, I said four. "T" didn't like panties. She wanted to keep wearing her pull-ups. I begged and pleaded with her, threatened to punish her and bribed her. Nothing worked. I finally just gave up. When she was four, she just decided one day she wanted to wear them. We haven't looked back since.

Don't have any expectations for your children. If they don't live up to them, you'll just be disappointed, and that's not right. Because you should love your children no matter what.

2. A baby can't be spoiled and it doesn't need to cry to develop its lungs. That last part is an old wives' tale I've heard all of my life (even from my sweet Granny, who was usually right about all things), but it isn't true. Allowing a child to cry simply raises their heart rate and their blood pressure and keeps them from trusting whether or not you are coming to help them.

Also, a baby will not be spoiled. I was always told not to hold "T" constantly because I would spoil her. Things you give attention to don't spoil; the only things that spoil are things you ignore. I loved holding her, and I loved having her know I was always there. She often slept better when I was holding her, which allowed me to catnap, too.

3. Never say never. I'm having to eat my words now. I swore that I would never allow "T" to sleep with us, would never spank, wouldn't yell, etc. Damn, was I ever wrong. She's almost five and still in the bed with us, although I'm hoping to have her moved to her room by the time the baby comes. That gives me nine months, give or take a week. I have spanked, although I am ashamed of it. I hate the way it makes me feel when I do it, but sometimes, it is all that works with "T."

I'm sure there is more that I have learned, but these are the three basic things. My sweet, sweet Granny once told me, "Just love her and everything else will work itself out." She couldn't have been more right.