pregnancy

The very first time i heard baby’s heartbeat, i cried. i was alone in my bedroom, a home Doppler in hand. i was still in the first trimester, and had yet to hear the heartbeat. i spent hours reading online before trying my hand at the Doppler. i knew i might not hear the heartbeat – baby was roughly the size of a fig, and it could be tricky to find the heartbeat.

i found the heartbeat within a few minutes. Baby was resting comfortably on the left side, heart pattering away. i was so surprised i found it so easily, and so, so happy to hear that sound, i just cried. i was in the middle of horrible morning sickness (more like all day and night sickness), and it was what i needed at the time. i had been so scared i’d hear nothing but more proof my uterus was broken.

i knew i was pregnant before the pregnancy test. Something inside of me just knew – my body told me and i listened. i postponed a surgery, much to the annoyance of friends and my boyfriend. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t feel what i was feeling, and that’s ok.

Pregnancy isn’t easy on my body. i’ve had scary moments. i was terrified of losing the pregnancy far into the second trimester.
When i passed 25 weeks, i started breathing a little easier. Odds were, baby was going to make it.

i first felt kicks at 14 weeks. It scared me at first. It was something i’d never felt before. i remember lying in bed, still as a stone, as i first felt those tiny flutters.
First proper ultrasound was at 14 weeks. Baby wasn’t fond of the ultrasound, and they squirmed and wriggled away from the wand, moving further into my womb.
i didn’t really start to show until the end of the second trimester. Up until then i looked like i just enjoyed sweets a little *too* much. Then my belly finally popped out, and i had to get bigger clothes. i live in yoga pants and long shirts these days.

My back hurts a lot. So do my ribs and hips. Baby is pretty quiet, except at night. If i rock back and forth while on my side, baby will calm down and fall asleep. It’s the sweetest thing. Same thing happens when i listen to music.

My cravings are varied and unpredictable. Oatmeal, cereal,  sloppy joes, Taco Bell, potato salad, cinnamon rolls, mashed potatoes, chocolate chip cookies, salad..i’ve even taken to spicy foods, which is NOT like me. At all. i am the whitest girl to ever white, and i hate spicy foods. Now though? i’ll slather chocolate in hot sauce if i can.

It’s been interesting. Lots of good moments, some bad moments. i waddle a lot and have to roll out of bed. i can still bend over though, and i consider that a major victory. i cannot put my pants or sock on while standing up anymore..but i’ll take what i can get. 😉

me

 

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Food insecurity and me

In my kitchen, there’s a small cabinet above the oven. It’s too short and narrow for dishes, and just a little too high to comfortably use for food.

It’s my food stash cabinet. I keep a variety of food in there – all non perishable items of course. Crackers, granola bars, random bags of candy, dried fruits, nuts, shelf stable juice, etc.

No one is allowed to get in my cabinet. It was actually my boyfriend’s idea. He kept finding random food items on top the fridge, in the bathroom linen closet, and behind the pots. He cleaned out the cabinet one morning, put all my food inside, and promised to never get in it without permission.

Growing up, food was not always guaranteed. It came and went like the seasons. Sometimes we had an abundance, sometimes we had very little. There is nothing quite like the panic you feel knowing that you have no food in the house and no way to get more.
Feeding one or two people isn’t that big of a deal, but feeding over a dozen is a different matter all together. It was a first come, first served kind of deal.

When I left and got my own place (with roommates), I thought things would change. At my parent’s home, I would hide any food I didn’t want to share. It was food I had bought with my own money, and was not interested in divvying out. But in my own house, I assumed my food would be safe. I assumed I lived with decent people who wouldn’t abuse my trust and eat my food.

I am eternally too trusting, because of course they ate my food. I would buy an entire jar of peanut butter, only to have it half gone by the next day. I hadn’t eaten it. My boyfriend hadn’t eaten it. I asked my roommate if he ate it. He feigned innocence, of course. It got to the point where I was writing my name across all my food, reminding everyone (passive aggressively) that this was NOT THEIR FOOD. I mean, if they had asked, I would be more than ok with sharing. But they didn’t ask, and that was the real issue.

Heh.

Moving away from that environment and into my own place with my now boyfriend was a change. I no longer had to angrily bite my tongue when my food was stolen ( or be laughed at or mocked behind my back as dramatic). I didn’t have to hide my food. I could leave it in the open, and no one would touch it. My boyfriend always, always asks first.

I think to a lot of people, it’s not that big of a deal. Food can be replaced, right? OK, but what if you’re poor, and it cannot be replaced. Or, maybe it can, but you don’t know when?

My anxiety is strong around food. I’ll save it until it’s within an inch of its expiration date, because what if I can’t replace it? I more than likely will be able to replace it. Why wouldn’t I? There’s money available, and the store is a ten minute drive. Logically, I should polish off that container of yogurt and happily toss it in the trash. But I can’t, because anxiety tells me I might never see another container in my life.

Last night I wanted to make oatmeal for dinner (it’s a thing now, yeah. I’m not sorry, I love oatmeal). I spent ten minutes debating on whether to use almond milk or water. Seriously.
If I used almond milk, then the amount we have goes down, and that means less for the future. But water comes straight from the tap, and there’s a lot more of it.
I ended up using water.
Even though we’re going grocery shopping in two days and I have half a gallon of almond milk. More than enough. Using 2/3 a cup of milk wouldn’t have killed me, but tell my anxiety that.

Anxiety is not rational, and anyone who suffers from it realizes that.
Half of me is groaning at my anxiety, rolling its eyes and shaking its head at the stupidity. The other half of me is running around shrieking, convinced we used the last drop of milk on the planet, and all hope is lost.

Dealing with food insecurity has led to some unhealthy behaviors around food. I’ve dealt with over eating ( “I don’t know if I’ll ever get this again, so I need to it all now”) and under eating (“I’ve eaten so much, I shouldn’t eat again for a few days”).
I even keep food in my purse. Usually granola bars, because they’re easy to transport. I keep packets of mayo and ketchup you get with your lunch at a restaurant or cafeteria. My fridge is full of them.

I hoard food until it goes bad, which is ironic, since you can’t eat it when it’s bad. Anxiety is not logical. It does not make sense. It becomes a habit, until you actively try and break it. Sometimes it’s like pushing on a door that says pull. You push and push until you’re exhausted and close to tears. You realize you could just pull the door open. Give into the anxiety and feel that rush of relief, rather than struggling against the fear in your brain.

But that’s not going to result in freedom, is it?

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random happenings and thoughts

I’m turning into an adult who eats weight control oatmeal.
It’s made by Quaker and it’s instant. I just pop it into the microwave for a minute and twenty seconds and bam. Breakfast that fills me up and also tastes good.
It has artificial sweeteners in it, so there is only 1 gram of sugar?? I am usually pretty against artificial sweeteners, but I don’t even care right now. It’s yummy and I love it.

Speaking of sugar: my boyfriend is a very careful eater. He has a ridiculous amount of self control, and I envy him. He (unfortunately, because ignorance is bliss) opened my eyes to how much sugar there is in every day foods, and now I just see sugar everywhere. He won’t even really eat fruit. Which is fine, because I fucking love fruit, so more for me. I spent five dollars on a bag of pears, and it was one of the best choices I’ve made this week, lol.
But now I can’t enjoy anything sweet without a little gremlin in my head screaming “THAT’S GOT LIKE 100 GRAMS OF SUGAR IN IT.” I found out my favorite soda has something like 75 grams of sugar in one bottle and I just can’t find a good reason to drink it anymore.

It’s finally warm outside (every day, not just a few days out of the week), and the trees just grew green leaves overnight. This was more like two weeks ago, but now the leaves are all unfurled. The neighborhood is lined with trees with white or pink blossoms. They’re so graceful. I love the way the petals float in the breeze. The street is covered with pink and white petals. I’ve been taking a lot of walks to soak it all in. I am much, much happier in the spring and summer. I hate winter, and it dampens my mood.

I spoke to an adviser at the college I’m eager to attend. I’m nervous but excited. I like getting all my plans lined up. I get excited about my future and my hopes and dreams. Eep.

My hair is down to the middle of my back! Three years ago I was as bald as a baby bird, so this is a pretty big deal for me. My goals is to get it down to the top of my bum, then just maintain. Unless it gives me headaches, of course. Then I’ll just cut it shorter and be satisfied that I at least reached my original goal. 😛

I saw a dentist for the first time in nearly a decade – insurance, man. It’s pretty great. My dentist has a great bedside manner, and he made the procedure relatively quick and painless. I had a filling fall out about a month ago (which isn’t all that bad, since that filling has been in there since I was a teenager), and he put in a temporary filling for now. I go in tomorrow to have the real one put in.

A few photos before I go:

oatmeal
The infamous oatmeal

 

lilith
My chubby baby girl. She’s three this year! 

 

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Photo from one of my walks. ❤