It’s been a while since my last downer of a post.  I wanted to thank everyone for their support and well wishes.  It means a lot.  I am doing TONS better than I was.  There are several reasons for this, I think.  First, the queasiness and fatigue is finally completely gone.  That has made an enormous difference because now I can stay adequately hydrated, I can get the nutrients I need, and most importantly, I’ve been able to exercise regularly again!  I don’t think I realized how essential exercise was for keeping me sane.  I’ve been taking weekly prenatal yoga classes, plus running on the treadmill twice each week.  My run is pretty slow, and I usually do just under 2 miles—enough to get my heart rate up, but not enough to really overexert myself.  The other thing that has really helped me feel better is having some extra certainty in my career.  I got in touch with the woman I interviewed with in August to see if she had concluded her national search for the position I had applied for.  She had indeed finished the search, and she is ready to hire me for January!  We agreed on salary as well as a flexible part-time working arrangement.  I’ll be working on the two days each week that Holden is in school, so it should work out beautifully.  I am really excited about starting this new job.  I think I will learn a lot, and there will be lots of opportunities that I can seize.  Finally, one of the best things to happen recently was the conclusion of my very last undergraduate class.  I gave the final last Friday, finished up grading and submitting grades on Saturday, and enjoyed a Sunday without the stress or pressure of having to teach the following day.  Ah……the relief that it is over!  I can’t even express it.  The last week of the semester was stress-filled, with extra meetings and paperwork related to a plagiarism case.  But it’s finally, really over.  I just couldn’t be happier about it.

In other news, baby is doing well.  At my 23 week appointment, I was up a whopping 17 lbs, which is CRAZY.  After gaining no weight whatsoever during the 1st trimester, it seems nuts that I have gained so much in the past few weeks.  I can’t believe how quickly baby is growing, although now at 24 weeks, it’s still not obvious I am pregnant!  Baby is kicking a lot (which I think first started around 16 weeks), but wasn’t detectable from the outside until closer to 20 or 21 weeks.  At this point though, the kicks are pretty strong, although Holden doesn’t sit still long enough with his hand on my belly to be able to feel it.  I know that once he finally does, it’ll probably blow his mind!  Holden is so excited about his baby brother.  He asks many questions and is aware that we are inching closer and closer to the baby’s birthday.  In January I get another ultrasound to double-check the location of my low placenta.  Hopefully it will not be quite so low this time, so I can proceed with a normal delivery.  I also go for my gestational diabetes and anemia tests.  As we approach these tests, I realize how quickly the pregnancy is going, and that baby will be here before we know it.  Now that my class is over, I’ve been able to clear off the remaining work-related items from my desk in baby’s room and get things prepared for painting the trim and walls.  I’m lucky that my jury duty was cancelled this week, so now I have a full 2 days back in my schedule to work on this project.

So yes, things are finally coming together.  I’m feeling better, I’m feeling excited, and I’m feeling hopeful for the future.

BOY!

R, H, and I are all stoked about having another boy.  I know how to handle a boy and it just seems like another boy will be the perfect fit for our family.  Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with a girl, for a variety of reasons, so it’s really best that we have another little guy.  Of course, it means I have to modify some of the things I say to H.  For instance, instead of tucking him in at night and telling him that he’s my favorite boy, I now have to say that he’s my favorite big boy.  His little brother will be my favorite little boy.  I think that works.

The reactions we have gotten have been weird.  A lot of people react with consolation, as in “Oh well, it’s OK, there’s lots of things that are great about having two of the same sex!” and they smile reassuringly.  Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that it was supposed to be ideal to have one of each.  I grew up with a little brother, who I adore and love very much today—but believe me, when we were siblings living under the same roof, we got on each other’s last nerve.  We didn’t engage in shared activities, we didn’t have overlapping circles of friends, and we didn’t even really talk that much.  We don’t talk much now, but the difference is that we genuinely love and respect each other now.  I would do anything for my brother now.  But when we were kids…..well, let’s just say that having a boy and a girl is not the ideal that so many people make it out to be.  Not that having two boys will guarantee that they are buddies either, but I also don’t think that having two of the same sex is automatic cause for consoling someone.  It’s kind of rude to do that, actually.

R’s family is ALL boys. R is the oldest of 3 boys.  R’s middle brother has 2 boys.  And now we have 2 boys.  I know that everyone was probably stifling their disappointment over it, but fuck it.  It’s my kid and he’s awesome, penis and all!

I had H deliver the news to my parents over the phone.  But when H called them, he exclaimed, “I’m going to have a little brother or sister!!”  My parents heard “sister” and were laughing and cheering (“Yay!  A sister!!”), at which point I had to grab the phone from H and correct them:  “No, he’s having a little brother.”

“Oh, a brother!  Ok!”

It wasn’t their fault how their reaction came across, and they certainly didn’t intend any disrespect or anything.  It was just one of those situations where the communication kind of fell apart in a big way.  Still, because of how the conversation unfolded, I detected their disappointment, and it made me feel pretty upset.

I have to say that not finding out the sex with Holden was WAY better, because we didn’t have to go through the bullshit of dealing with other people’s reactions over the sex.  It allowed the pregnancy to feel more private and for me to feel more in control.  I don’t like having to listen to people’s feelings about something that I can’t change.  So, I guess I do wish we hadn’t found out ahead of time with this one.  Finding out hasn’t made me feel more connected to the pregnancy, and if anything, it’s spiraled me into even more of a funk because I have to engage in all of these ridiculous conversations with people.

As time has gone on, I’ve felt less connected to this pregnancy instead of more.  I don’t know why.  I felt awesome during my pregnancy with Holden—very healthy and stable and self-assured.  I don’t feel that way this time at all.  I feel like I am going to cry pretty much at all hours of the day.  I don’t have a lot of energy.  Once or twice a week I still feel queasy and icky.  I dread what things are going to be like when he gets here.  Is that awful to say?  Probably.  It certainly makes me feel guilty to think it.  I started writing privately (away from this blog), so I could be free to say all of the crazy shit that crosses my mind.  I’m trying to figure out what is wrong with me so that I can fix it.  I bristle at pretty much everything that other people have to say—I can’t take anything in stride.  It’s making me want to cut myself off from everyone and everything.  It’s difficult for me to be around anyone socially right now because nearly everything people say makes me feel judged and inadequate.  I feel like no one understands what is going through my head, and that no one can see that I am having a very rough time.  But if someone were to say to me “I know EXACTLY what you’re going through,” I’d probably deck them on the spot.  How could they possibly know that?  They can’t.

Objectively, there is no reason for me to feel so terrible.  Baby is healthy, I am physically healthy, R is doing well, etc., but still, there are all sorts of things swimming through my head that make me feel dread.  I feel like I have no control over my life, and that I’m just acting out some script that was written by someone else.

Don’t comment on this.  You don’t understand it.  I won’t feel better if you say something to me—I’ll feel worse.

I’m going to continue my private writing, I’m going to do my yoga, try to drink more fluids, try to get those vitamins down.  I’m going to do things with H and pretend that I’m OK.  I’m going to go cross-country skiing this winter.  I’m going to hope that these feelings go away.

We had a big day today.  Today was 11-11-11.  Today we found out our baby’s sex.  We had the big anatomy scan, and the baby looks awesome.  Baby is measuring larger than average already (Baby is estimated to be 10 oz.!)  But we all know I make big babies, right?  Holden was with us during the scan, and he got to participate and get pictures.  The baby was VERY active during the scan.  Scary, because Holden slept through his entire anatomy scan when I was pregnant with him.  My placenta is low, so I have to get a follow-up exam at 26 weeks to make sure the placenta is still not sitting too low.  I’m up 8 lbs from my pre-pregnancy weight, which is great (although a certain family member has complained that it’s “not enough.”)  Whatevs.  My blood pressure is looking good.  I’m still feeling nauseous sometimes, and I haven’t taken my prenatals in 3 weeks because they just make me feel worse.  My midwife isn’t worried, so I’m not either.  We’re not revealing the baby’s sex just yet.  I have some family members that we need to tell first (it’s best that they hear it from us, rather than Facebook or a blog), so I won’t be updating that information here for a while.  Sorry.  I know you all are dying to know.  But I promise I’ll let you know by the end of the month.  My brother doesn’t even know I’m pregnant yet.  Gah.  It’s hard to be so far from family, sometimes.  But sometimes it’s really, really nice (like when they think 8 lbs. isn’t “enough” weight gain for being 19 weeks pregnant).

Anyway, I’ve made massive headway on getting the baby’s room more organized.  The baby’s room is still functioning as our office, but I think we’re super close to being able to move some of the larger pieces of furniture to their new home in the guest bedroom.  Rob and I have thrown out/recycled massive amounts of stuff in an effort to get things more organized.  Hopefully soon I’ll be able to start patching the walls in the baby’s room and maybe painting the trim.  And as soon as Holden’s new dresser arrives, his old furniture can be moved into the baby’s room.  Progress.

Last weekend we celebrated Rob’s birthday and had a wonderful day.  It was sunny and unseasonably warm for a November day in Vermont.  We went on a little hike at Mt. Philo (trust me, not challenging AT ALL), but it was still so nice to be feeling well enough to get outside and get some fresh air.  I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get out and exercise more really soon.   I have cross-country skis on my Christmas wish list; I know that cross-country skiing will be great for me this winter when I want to get out into the crisp, clear woods, and exercise my legs a bit.

Check back soon to see whether H will have a little brother or a little sister.  Sorry for the suspense!

Since I’ve been feeling okayish lately, I allowed Holden to convince me to do some yoga in our family room the other morning.  I practiced yoga weekly when I was pregnant with Holden, starting at some point in the 2nd trimester.  I really felt that it helped me to relax, in addition to keeping my muscles and joints in good shape.  Well, the other morning I got about 15 minutes into my little yoga routine, and I became so winded and lightheaded that I had to stop or else I would have thrown up.  It’s crazy to me how much stamina I’ve lost since August when my exercise came to an abrupt halt due to all-day/all-night nausea.  I tried yoga again yesterday (at Holden’s insistence), and I got in 40 minutes of a pretty decent routine.  I was only mildly nauseous at certain points, but afterward I felt pretty good, and this feeling continued for the rest of the day.  I’m going to keep at it a few times each week, and one of these days I’ll actually start cashing in my passes for weekly prenatal yoga classes (it seems that so far, there is some sort of scheduling conflict every single week that prevents me from going).  All in good time, right?

Other than that—I’m just checking off the days till the end of the semester.  I only teach 5 more classes, then we have our final.  I grade almost every single day of the week just to stay on top of things, even on days when it’s just me and H.  I will grade for 15 or 20 minutes with H in my midst, just to get the pile down to a more reasonable level.  The class I am currently teaching is a brand-new prep for me (I’ve taught EIGHT different preps since 2006, if you can believe that).  Considering that it’s a new prep and it’s a class I’ve never even taken before, I feel like I am staying on top of the workload fairly well.   That said, the class isn’t especially interesting to me (it’s more squishy psychology than actual science), and a very large portion of my class was failing at midterm (about 1/3).  How could so many students fail?  Do I expect too much of them?  Well, the truth is that the failing students either never come to class and/or never turn in any assignments.  Their failure reflects a complete lack of effort on their part, rather than me being an unreasonable hardass.

My feelings about teaching have become increasingly negative over the last few years.  I never wanted to be a teacher.  I wanted to be a scientist.  But somehow, here I am, doing something that I never intended to do.  I liked teaching in the beginning.  I was excited about sharing interesting things with students.  I was excited about helping them learn all sorts of important skills.  I was excited to learn a few things along the way as well (in terms of both course content, as well as pedagogy).  But now….I’m greeted by such apathy each time I walk in the classroom.  My students don’t seem to care what they learn (or even, if they learn at all).  I try to get them to read.  They don’t.  I firmly demand they get off Facebook during class.  They do—but only for a few minutes.  I ask them to reflect on what they have read.  They ask “Can you give us a rubric?”

Gah.  My most recent Supremely Irritating Moment was following one of my classes earlier this semester.  I had passed along job information to my students, as I do from time to time, as a courtesy to them.  I think it’s important to help connect students to resources and potential contacts in the field, so they aren’t out at sea following graduation.  The job information I sent to them was from a local organization that connects workers (usually students) with families who need personalized assistance for their autistic child.  The contact from the organization was familiar to me, as I had arranged for her to come give a talk at our institution last year, when I was serving as the department chair.  A couple of my students pursued the job opportunity (yay!), and set up interviews directly with the families with whom they might potentially work.  Sounds good, right?  Well, of course, there was an issue with one of my students.  Or, I should say, there was an issue with the mother of one of my students.  When the mother found out that her daughter would be working with an autistic person, she FLIPPED OUT, and contacted the freaking college president, demanding that he intervene and save her daughter from what was certainly an unsafe and unsavory job.  What followed from that was a complete overreaction on the part of the college.  The Director of Counseling Services, Residence Life, etc., convened at my student’s dorm room at 7AM to tell her not to go into work because they agreed it seemed sketchy, and they wanted to make sure it was safe.  So of course, my student feels panicked and probably feels like she can’t trust the information I’ve given her.  At this point, the Dean calls me at home, demanding an explanation.  I told her that the position was legitimate, that I had personal contact with the representative of the organization, etc.  I told her I was only trying to help the students.  More phone calls were made, and basically the college determined what I already knew—that the position was safe.  The student’s mother continued to insist that her daughter not work in this position, even though her daughter is 19 and can legally make whatever work-related choices she wants.  In the end, the student gave a big “F U” to her mom, and pursued the job anyway.  I don’t know whether the student got the job.  I don’t really want to broach the subject with her.  I do feel that the officials at the college made some poor assumptions about the kind of work I do with my students, and that they were way out of line to assume that I’d just pass along any kind of job posting to my students, without first vetting it.  I felt like my employer took the mother’s uneducated side, and left me standing there alone, to defend myself.  It made me furious.  And it’s the last job opportunity I will ever send along to my students.  I don’t need this kind of bullshit for $3000/semester.

So this is absolutely, definitely the last time I teach.  I hate it (can’t you see why?) and it’s not getting me to where I ultimately want to be.  I’m not learning anything new, and I don’t even have the satisfaction of watching my students learn (because they aren’t putting in enough effort).  I’m tired of parents and administrators making student progress a problem of the teacher.  The teacher has a role, sure, but it’s not all on me.  No fucking way.  I’ve gotten as good with teaching as I’m ever going to get—I can run a discussion for 3 hours without Powerpoint, videos, or any other crutches.  I can talk about controversial subjects, like the evolutionary basis of rape, issues of race, gender, and class.  I can write learning outcomes that rock.  I can mediate any conflict under the sun that comes up in the classroom (and sometimes outside of it).  There’s nowhere to go from here.  I can’t get better at this.  It’s not that I’m the best teacher ever (I’m not), it’s just that I’ve reached my personal ceiling.

I have so many more thoughts on this—which is why I am up at 6AM pouring my heart out.  I’ve been grieving the loss of research in my life.  I know that sounds incredibly cheesy, but grief and loss are the best words for it.  I trained for so long to do something, and I can’t do it because the economy sucks, and no new jobs are being created, and the fucking baby boomer scientists won’t retire, and here I am, teaching the fuck-up children of those baby boomers.  I’ve never been to therapy in my adult life, although I do think I need to go to therapy for this—so I can move on and stop dwelling on the sense of loss I feel.  It’s not an opportune time for therapy, though.  I’m having a baby in 5  months, and I’d rather dwell on how awesome that is.  But I feel like it’s hard to think about the pregnancy right now.  When I was pregnant with Holden, I was overjoyed.  We had wanted to get pregnant for over a year, then I had a miscarriage, then I got pregnant with Holden.  By the time I was pregnant with Holden, I was very used to the idea of being pregnant (we’d been wanting/expecting it for a while, and we were stoked that it finally happened).  During that time, I was happy with my postdoc, and felt like I was getting good advising (I wasn’t).  But that’s besides the point—my perception was that I was in a good place.  During this pregnancy (which completely took us by surprise–more on that later), I feel like my professional life has unraveled in a way that is irreparable.  I know that’s probably not true, but that’s certainly how it feels.  I’m still waiting on hearing back about that second postdoc opportunity that I was informally offered back in August.  I’m starting to feel anxious about it, and I just want to know what the fuck is going to happen.  I’m starting to feel like it might not work out.  What can you do?

There’s nothing I can do.  I have no control over this situation.  And I hate that.  All I *can* do is practice some yoga a few times a week, take some deep breaths,  love my little guy, and pretend that everything will work out.  And if I have a girl, I will refuse to perpetuate the myth that having a career AND motherhood is possible.  Because it’s fucking not.

Things are chugging along over here.  One day I feel OK, the next I feel nauseous and exhausted again.  The nausea and sluggishness are definitely hanging around longer than I would like (and longer than I expected).  I’ve felt little flutters here and there that I am pretty sure are  baby movements.  The sensations aren’t really consistent yet, though.

We find out the sex pretty soon, which is crazy.  We didn’t find out Holden’s sex in advance, but this time we decided to try something different and find out.  Plus, I thought it would help me feel more bonded to this baby to know the sex, and that Holden would feel more connected to the new baby if he knows the sex ahead of time.  From a practical standpoint, it allows me to have enough time to sort through the millions of boxes of boy baby/toddler clothes that are taking up space in our guest bedroom.  This way, I’ll know whether I need to donate the clothes or simply sort through them to be used by us yet again.  Did I mention we have a million baby boy clothes?

I’ve begun the slow process of getting the baby’s room ready.  It’s going to take me forever.  The baby’s future room is our current office.  We’ve decided to move our office downstairs to share the room with the guest bedroom (the guest bedroom is actually the largest bedroom in the house and is big enough to house an entire bedroom set plus our treadmill, and whatever office stuff/desks/bookcases/books we move down there).  The baby’s room still has our office desks and miscellaneous paperwork sitting around, but I’ve already moved the majority of our books down to their new space in the guest room.  The baby’s room definitely needs to be painted, which is going to be a huge job because of the dark wood trim that needs to be tackled.  But luckily, it’s a tiny bedroom so painting the walls should be a quick job (after the initial prep of fixing all of the holes that the previous owners left behind).  Holden’s current dressers will be moved over into the new baby’s room.  We’ve treated Holden to a brand new dresser, which was a huge splurge, and probably one of the most expensive pieces of furniture we’ve bought to date.  It’s a nice piece, so he’s stuck with it through young adulthood!  We’re still waiting for it to be delivered, so hopefully it will get here before Christmas and will “count” as one of his Christmas presents.  We’re trying to go “light” this Christmas since I won’t be teaching in the spring and won’t have that extra income coming in—not to mention the miscellaneous added expenses that come along with having a baby.  And other random expenses seem to keep cropping up all at once—for example, we need to buy ourselves a new mattress, and probably also a new bed frame.  We got our bed frame used when we first got married 10 years ago….that’s also when we bought our mattress.  Our mattress hasn’t been as comfortable lately, and the bed frame squeaks loudly ever time we shift in bed ever so slightly.  So that is annoying.  The bed came apart completely at one point several years ago, but we managed to re-secure it with a number of nails.  I think the time has finally come to buy a replacement, though.  We had kicked around the idea of a king size bed since we’ll have a nursing newborn soon, but I don’t know that our little bedroom can handle a bed of that size.  So we’ll have to see.  Either way, the mattress for sure needs to be replaced.  True confession—my water broke on our mattress when I went into labor with Holden.  So yeah—it probably should have been replaced a while ago:)

Holden has been enjoying Halloween-related activities and school field trips to apple orchards and pumpkin patches.  He is getting increasingly articulate, is obsessed with random dinosaur trivia, and is so so so excited to be a big brother.  I love that he will be nearly 4 years older than his sibling—he totally and completely “gets” the idea of being a big brother.  I can’t wait for him to meet his little brother or sister.