when to draw the line

We were talking not that long ago with friends of ours about our "portfolios". The things in our households that he always takes care of or she always does. It was a light hearted conversation that had us laughing. But it led to a more serious discussion between my hubby and I later as the Doctor and I came to realize that a vast majority of the items in my husband's portfolio had somehow made their way into mine.

How this happened, neither of us are quite sure. I certainly didn't sneak into his folder and steal his jobs to bolster my own portfolio. Trust me, it's full enough. Perhaps some of them I took willingly from him, and filed them neatly (and alphabetically) into my own. But others are shoved in there, crumpled and out of order.

Can I take care of things on my own? Heck, yes I'm capable.

But do I want to? Or should I have to? This is the more difficult question to answer.

I don't resent my husband for studying hard or working long hours. But there are times that I definitely do hold some resentment. To be quite honest, there are times that I wish our family ranked higher on his list of priorities. There are times that I wish I ranked higher on that list.

I get it. He's a resident. A student-doctor. He is learning a highly skilled profession that deals with people's health and lives. It's serious. No duh he has to study. I wouldn't want someone operating on me without reading a thing or two about the procedure, right?

So the hard part is knowing where to draw the line between needing him here with me and wanting him here.

The tricky thing is helping him to find balance when all he can focus on is that next exam or that new surgical skill he has to master.

I know it's going to get better. As the Doctor repeats procedures and becomes more comfortable with his skills and knowledge, he won't have to study as much. His call load will eventually lighten and someday, one day, he'll be able to have more control over his hours. From what I hear, second year residency is one of the busiest years of training.

But right now I feel as if it's going to be a never-ending cycle. And if we don't find a balance now, maybe we never will. There will always be something to study for, a paper to read, a surgical procedure to learn or improve.

I love the handsome, intelligent, fun-loving man I married so much. I feel like I can never spend enough time with him.

So for me, I'm trying to determine how much I can share. How understanding and flexible can I be before enough is enough? Before our marriage suffers for it?

I am so thankful that my hubby and I can be open and honest with each other. I really make an effort not to whine and complain to him about the long hours he spends away from us. Especially the ones he can't help. But I do let him know how I'm feeling. When it is getting to be too much. When he needs to take a break. If not for his sake, then for mine.

We're getting there. We're learning how to make it work. And once our new baby arrives, we'll have to figure it out again.

But that's what marriage is.

That's what being a family is all about.

This past week I drew the line.

We took a much needed break from our everyday lives. We went to Cuba for a week's vacation. We went to an all-inclusive resort. All our meals were prepared for us. Our room was cleaned every day for us. The beach was beautiful. And our time was our own. Time together. Time as a family. Does it get any better than that?

We also made a decision to invite my parents to join us. They helped to take care of the Bean and she even had 4 sleep-overs in their room! The Doctor and I got some much needed time alone. I even got to sleep in (kinda'). And we took long walks by ourselves on the beach.

the Bean and her Oma and Opa

I really can't express how refreshing this holiday was. Did my hubby study on the beach almost every day? Well, yes. But he was beside me. I was reading a novel and usually the Bean was napping in her shade tent. I didn't care. And did I mention it was on a beach with the sun shining down on us?

I feel now that I can make it through this next month while the Doctor prepares for his huge exam at the beginning of April. It was a break we both needed. It was the uninterrupted time together that I so desperately craved.

perspective

When my hubby gets home from work, it's customary for us to ask about each other's days. You know, "how was it?", "what did you do?", "did you eat?" (okay, that last one is me making sure my hubby is taking care of himself, since it's often difficult for him to grab 10min to eat something).

I love hearing about the Doctor's day. Probably because I think his days are infinitely more interesting than mine. And luckily I am not squeamish, and also think the surgeries he's performing are "cool". He, in turn, is always eager to hear about what I've been up to, especially if I've spent the day with the Bean. I know the little things she does bring a huge smile to his face, so I try to remember as many of them as I can.

Talking about our days helps us feel connected. To know what our partner has been up to and to know what their state of mind is at the end of a day.

Occasionally one of us will have a "bad" day. My husband is a great listener and a wise man. I know that for me, talking through that bad day with him can help me vent frustrations, it can help me sort out exactly what made it bad and why I'm feeling the way I am.

And occasionally, something like this happens:

hubby: "how was your day?"

me: "ugh. it was terrible. i wore the wrong underwear and they drove me crazy all day; i got stuck on the highway because of an accident and was late for work; then i spent all morning working on a spreadsheet for my boss, who looked at it and then decided he wanted something completely different and i had to re-do the entire thing. it was a frustrating day."

hubby: "that does sound frustrating."

me: "it was. how was your day?"

hubby: "well, we had to meet with a patient's family to tell them their loved one was going to die. it was tough, i almost cried. then we got the test results back on another patient and it looks like she isn't going to make it either. my pager went off all night and i only slept for an hour in the call-room."

me: "oh."

So you see, sometimes talking about our days can make my "bad" day seem not very terrible at all.

Sometimes God grants me a little perspective.

Sometimes I am a little more conscious of what really matters in this life. And sometimes I am reminded to count my blessings and grumble less.

has anyone seen my resolve?

I don't know what happened.

When I first learned I was pregnant, I made a commitment to keep on my clean eating journey and eat the healthiest I could, for the benefit of my baby and for me.

Then week 6 hit. And the nausea. And the inability to eat anything.

Well, at least anything healthy.

For about 10 weeks I decided to let myself eat whatever sounded good (since there was so little that fell into that category). Unfortunately, this category contained things like chips and dip, wine gums, skittles, and white bread with kraft peanut butter.

I completely fell off the clean eating wagon.

Okay, it left town without me.

Now I'm at week 22 and it just dawned on me that my nausea is gone (has been since about week 16). I am able to eat most things again, but I haven't reverted my eating habits. I am still eating a silly amount of refined sugar.

This is puzzling to me. I do not believe in the theory of "I can eat whatever I want: I'm pregnant". Or "I'm eating for two". Yet, my actions would suggest otherwise. It would seem that I've misplaced my resolve at a time when nutritious eating should be most important.

Clean eating before pregnancy was easy. I felt wonderful. I lost all the extra weight I'd been carrying around. I had more energy. And I was committed to this way of eating. Once pregnancy really hit, my resolve seemingly flew out the window. I'm frustrated with myself. And so this week I've been trying to puzzle my way through why I let this happen. I know part of it is that my cravings (especially for sweets) are incredibly strong and it's difficult for me to ignore them.

Is it also because I know my body is going to change and get bigger anyways, so the push to stay trim has lessened? Maybe.

Is it because I had no energy and didn't notice the negative effect sugar was having on me again? Maybe.

Is it because maybe, just maybe, deep down I do think I can indulge myself since I am pregnant? Well, maybe.

One thing I do know: I don't feel as good as I used to. And I do know that consuming sugar and refined products is playing a part in this. Although I've only gained 8lbs so far, I am starting to see the effect of reintroducing these 'unclean' foods into my body.

And there is no excuse. I am capable of eating clean, no matter how delicious that other food may taste. I owe it to my body and my baby to eat the best way I know how.

So this is my public declaration people.

I may occasionally indulge myself in the odd treat. But I am back on the wagon.

just say "no"...

a blessed christmas

I know.

This post is about a month late.

That's what happens when you're pregnant, chasing after a toddler, and married to a resident.

But I still wanted to write it because this Christmas was so different for us from ones in the past.

Last year my hubby had to work on New Year's Eve. No biggie. We don't really do anything huge for New Year's and I was content to spend it with friends while he worked.

This year the Doctor drew the short straw and had to be on-call for Christmas Day.

At first I was kind of upset.

Okay, I was really upset.

We have always flown home for Christmas since we moved out east, away from our families (for residency). We spend Christmas Eve at my parents and Christmas Day at my hubby's parents. It's been a great tradition that always worked really well. It's busy, but I love being with my family over the holidays, and participating in the traditions we've created. So I was really sad that this year it would be much different. We wouldn't be able to fly out until the 26th.

Occasionally I have these moments where I get very frustrated with residency, the amount of time it consumes, and the demands it places on my hubby. This was once of those times.

Then I started to think about it a bit more.

And I actually started to get a little excited.

Being in our home for Christmas meant that we could start our own traditions with the Bean. It meant I could actually decorate our house for Christmas (something I never bothered to do since we weren't ever here). It meant we could have our own tree! (also something we've never done since moving away). The more I thought about it and began to plan, the happier I was with the turn of events.

Fortunately my hubby is in a residency program that has home call* which meant he could go in early on Christmas day to round on his patients and then (barring any unforeseen emergencies), he would be able to spend the rest of the day with us.

What I originally thought was going to be a big lonely failure of a Christmas turned out to be one of the most blessed ones. We went to a Christmas Eve church service as a family and opened our stockings when we got home. And when the Bean and I woke up in the morning, my hubby was home and ready to eat a leisurely breakfast with us before we started the gift-giving. It was relaxed. It was joy-filled. It was ours.

It was so fun to be able to watch our Bean's reaction to Christmas, to see her slowly start to grasp the concept of gift-giving and present-ripping. To watch her little face light up at the smallest gift. To be a family. Just us. To start new traditions of our own.

I am so thankful to have an extended family who is flexible. Who were willing to wait for us and celebrate on different days than we normally have.

We got the best of both worlds this year.

A Christmas of our own and a Christmas with our families.

I didn't realize how much I would treasure being able to have our own Christmas as a family. My family. The family I'm building with my husband.

I am so blessed.

*home call means you can "stay home" when you are on-call, unless you get called in to deal with something. In house call means you must stay at the hospital for the entirety of your on-call shift.

the first trimester is only fun the first time

I had heard that pregnancies can be wildly different, not only from woman to woman, but also from one pregnancy to the next (in the same woman). Quite honestly though, I expected this pregnancy to be very similar to my first.

Nope.

This pregnancy has been different in two major ways: physically and emotionally.

Now there are no outrageous physical changes, but this pregnancy is progressing quite differently from my first. When I was pregnant with the Bean, I didn't really start to show until around 18 weeks (and even then, it wasn't very obvious). This time around? Hello 9 weeks. You've heard of muscle memory? Apparently my abdominal muscles remember being stretched out. Okay, I could hide it until about 14 weeks, but this is vastly different from pregnancy #1. I remember that I couldn't wait to have a bump with my first pregnancy... this time when I started showing I was almost embarrassed because it was so early on.

This other physical difference has been the nausea. oh the nausea. I experienced virtually no nausea with my first pregnancy. Sure, I had some food aversions from weeks 6-9, but nothing major. This time around I got queasy around week 6 and felt like I didn't step off the boat until week 15. And food aversions? Oh there were plenty. Basically anything healthy (especially raw vegetables) was out. My clean eating diet went out the window. Anything that sounded good to me (and there wasn't much) I ate. This consisted mostly of items containing sugar.

Then I got a cold.

Let me just say that I haven't puked in about 10 years. I never throw up. I hate it. I'll do anything to avoid it. This cold came with a cough. I started coughing one morning. And promptly lost my breakfast. This happened on 3 occasions. I know, it could be worse. There are a lot of women who are sick every day for their entire pregnancies (or at least the first 4 months). So I'll count myself blessed that this is where it stopped. But it was awful. And reaffirmed how much I hate throwing up.

But I'd like to talk more about the emotional difference this pregnancy compared to last time. Because this is where I've noticed a real contrast.

The first time I was pregnant I remember the first trimester as being filled with excitement and anticipation. My husband and I had a secret that was ours to keep and dream about. We read pregnancy books and every week talked about what our baby was doing and developing. Everything was new and there was a kind of magic involved. Waiting until 14 weeks to tell people we were expecting a new addition to our family didn't seem like that long to wait.

This time around, that first trimester draaaaggged on and on. I felt more apprehension this time. I wouldn't say that I was worried, but I didn't feel that same sense of excitement as last time. This is probably partly due to the fact that I have recently had a few people close to me miscarry. The reality that not all pregnancies are viable was in the background of my brain. I also kept forgetting that I was pregnant (still sometimes do). With a 15 month old to chase around and the Doctor busy with residency, I just haven't had the time to dwell on what's happening inside my body like I did that first time. And it's not new. I know the changes that are going to take place and this time I found myself repeating "hurry up already"! Now don't get me wrong, the Doctor and I were (and are) both very excited to be pregnant again. But I couldn't wait to get past the awkward first trimester.

Because lets face it: the first trimester is awkward. You don't really look pregnant yet (maybe just bloated). You don't really want to tell people yet that you're expecting (at least I didn't) so you have no excuse to give for why you keep forgetting things, are falling asleep on your desk at work, are unable to eat vegetables, or why the smell of your co-worker's lunch causes you to leave the room.

Let's just say that I'm glad I'm through the first trimester; that we can now tell people our news. And that the nausea seems to have passed.

If you're going through your first pregnancy right now, enjoy every minute. Soak it up. It's just not the same the second time around.

12 weeks pregnant

And since this is a pregnancy related post, I though I'd mention an awesome Jules et Jim maternity wear give-away that is happening over at Elena's blog. If you're pregnant and like free stuff, check it out! (and check out her blog too... it's great)!