Life's Little Curve Balls

It is a funny thing to stare at a plastic stick in a bathroom at five o'clock in the morning on a Saturday and realize your life will never be the same again. That was where I found myself in early September after my basal body temperature still had not dropped. I had a presumed knowledge of what was likely going on knowing the inner workings of the human body (thank you, Christian Sexuality class from freshman year of high school), but taking an at home pregnancy test and seeing a positive result is still quite surreal.

In actuality, my husband and I had not thought about kids in a while since we have been preoccupied with the can of worms familiarly known as PTSD. This year we learned just how long forty-five days can feel when he spent nearly all of June and July seeking in-patient treatment at a VA hospital after some pretty scary moments in May, and we had been preparing ourselves for an additional forty-five days as he had been scheduled to check back in to a VA hospital for more treatment at the end of September. As a married couple, there certainly have been times where it has felt like we are front-loading the "for worse" part of our marriage vows. And after nearly three years of marriage, we were naturally starting to wonder if kids were even possible, but one plastic stick in the wee hours of the morning ended any thought of that sort.

After a little breakfast while watching some morning news, an hour later that positive test result was still there staring back at me. Yep, this was really happening. The only remaining question was whether or not to wake my husband and tell him before leaving for work or wait until after work that day. Anyone married to a foreign war veteran learns quickly that waking a sleeping soldier is not usually recommended unless absolutely necessary.

In the end, telling my husband right away was probably the best decision made. While I contemplated all day what will happen in the next nine months, I found myself getting nervous about everything. I was not really sure if my husband comprehended what I had told him earlier while he was still half asleep, but then, at just the right moment, I received a text message from him sharing his excitement with me. When I expressed my nervousness, he reminded me how awesome it is to become parents.

Many years ago, a lot of friends questioned why I chose someone like my husband. At first glance it looks like he and I have nothing in common; he is certainly not like me in many aspects (thank goodness). Yet we are very much on the same wavelength, and I am often reminded how much of a match he is for me. He is not my duplicate but my compliment. Whenever I am weak, he is strong. If he had any nervous thoughts, I was not made aware of them, and that was exactly what I needed at the time.

After about two days of keeping this exciting news to ourselves, my husband was ready to burst. We spent that Sunday evening with my family celebrating my youngest brother's sixteenth birthday, and every time we caught each other's eye, a slight smirk crossed both of our faces. At one point my husband pulled me aside to tell me how he was going crazy keeping quiet, and he needed to tell someone. At first I attempted to convince him to wait a bit before we said anything, but he pointed out that everyone was there. When you are part of a large family, getting everyone together all at the same time can be tricky. My aunt and uncle had even stopped over, so it sure was an ideal time.

Unquestionably, there are moments of life that can be etched in your memory, and the look on my parents faces will always stay with me. From ecstatic grins to wide-open eyes full of surprise, the news of a baby has to be some of the best news in life. However, the best comment has to go to my uncle when  he said, "Good, now she can put on some weight." To which my sister responded, "Yeah, in her tummy." Needless to say, inheriting Grandma's metabolism has made me the butt of quite a few skinny jokes throughout my lifetime.

At 10 weeks, babies are about 1.25 inches long. So tiny!

After the excitement calmed, the pregnancy symptoms set in. For me, it took all of two days after getting a positive test result for nausea to grasp its hold, and it did not really let up until week thirteen. Morning sickness is really not an accurate description when the feeling lasts morning, noon, and night. Even worse, things that once worked as a remedy for feeling ill suddenly became things that exacerbated the problem, and tips from medical professionals only really took the edge off. If nausea were bad enough, add insomnia, frequent urination, shortness of breath due to increased heart rate, heartburn, fatigue, and (my personal favorite) vomiting all to the same day. Just when you think you survived the day, you realize that you get to likely do it all again the next day unless by some miracle your symptoms are cured. Eating enough food is an important thing to do, but even the thought of certain foods makes one want to gag when suffering from nausea. Oh, and water! It is hard to drink a lot of water when it tastes like metal. I am fairly certain I lost more weight than put on during the first trimester.

At 11 weeks, there is more than just bloating.

Despite those things, seeing our little tyke at ten weeks along during an ultrasound certainly makes it all worth it. My husband's reaction to the whole experience was priceless. Seeing that heart beating on the screen and watching those little arms and legs wiggle around is a great reminder of what a great miracle new life is. There is a living human getting ready to greet the world, and that miracle trumps all the difficulties that precede the arrival of that little bundle of joy. May cannot get here soon enough!

At 14 weeks, there is definitely a baby bump!

Thankfully, the end of the first trimester and start of the second has brought some relief. My body still has moments of nausea if I do not keep enough fuel in it throughout the day, but it is not quite the same as that initial constant feeling of illness that plagues you for weeks on end. It certainly came at the right time for me, but truth be told, part of me still wishes it were as easy as the stork from Disney's Dumbo making a special delivery.

An Obsession with Old Books

I have an obsession with old books. An exchange I had with a couple visiting the museum this past December taught me that perhaps not everyone who is a lover of history also shares my strange interest in antiquated literature. The couple was looking at a 19th century book about the history of the exploration of Africa that once belonged to my supervisor's grandfather. As they were looking it over, I mentioned that, while I had only read the first 25 pages or so of the book, it was an interesting read. The woman looked at me and replied, "Not really." Wait, what?! How could someone who seemed so knowledgeable about history find an old history text so dull?

Perhaps my fascination comes from the nostalgia of utilizing the public and school libraries as a kid. The town library used to be housed in a section of a strip mall with a Tom Thumb gas station on one end, which I vaguely remember from when I was quite young. The town built a larger library just southwest of downtown when I was in middle school. The school library of my Catholic elementary school was located in an adjacent building which formerly housed the nuns who at one time ran the school. Library day was a fun day because we had numbered, colored painting sticks to help keep the place on the shelf while we looked for books, the card catalog was the best way to learn the Dewey Decimal System, and most of the books I read as I got older had that old book smell. An added bonus was that you got to see who in your class checked out the book before you under the old system. The only downside was that we had to go outside to get to the library, and we never used coats in the middle of winter to cross the "frozen tundra" as we called it. "Oh, it's twelve below zero outside? Psht, who needs to wear a jacket?" Minnesotans are tough (or stupid) like that. As a kid, I had an interest in Nancy Drew for the longest time while the rest of my class was reading either The Boxcar Children or The Babysitters Club (I read a few of those but never really got into them.), and I can distinctly remember listening to the school librarian read the book Redwall to my class, which then became my favorite book series in middle school.

Perchance my fascination comes from memories of sitting upstairs in my grandmother's farmhouse reading the old books that used to belong to the old country schoolhouse that my mother, aunts, and uncles attended as children. Since my grandfather was on the school board and the school sat on his property, I think he acquired quite a bit of the old texts when rural and town schools in the area were consolidated. I used to sit in that little room upstairs and read for hours from the antiquated school textbooks, Dick and Jane style readers, and Betsy-Tacy. There was not much room to sit on the floor, and when I got tired of the floor, sometimes, for a more comfortable place to sit, I would sit on the indoor toilet (lid on of course) that my grandfather had made for use instead of having to use the outhouse in the middle of the night.

Either way, I have a fondness for old books that perhaps only a few would understand. My imagination runs away with me each time I pick up an old book. Who was the previous owner? What did the book first look like when it was brand new? Was it given as a gift or was it a personal purchase? When and where was it read? It is something that certainly reminds me of the insignificance of my life as compared to the history of humanity, and it is a very humbling feeling.

Over the years I have purchased a few 19th century school textbooks for use in the one room schoolhouse at the museum. I received a few more in the mail towards the end of December (Thank you, eBay!), and I am always amused when books that I have purchased have an inscription on the first page. Sometimes it can be a few words, but sometimes it is just a name. I imagine that person writing in that book so many years ago, and it makes me wonder about him or her and what his or her life was like.

"Sigmund Drechsler" as found in Schillers Werke. Vierter Band., 1867

"Louis Rhoades 1874" as found in Wilson's Larger Speller, 1864.

"Della Buchanan's Book, bought Nov 8th A.D. 1881" as found in McGuffey's New Fourth Eclectic Reader, 1866.

"Charles Bunting. 1229 Ky. St. Quincy Ill. owner." as found in Deutsches Zweites Lesebuch Für amerikanishe
Schulen, 1886. The left-hand side is "Charles Bunting" written in the German style script of the time.

"Mary E. Young, Danville, Illinois, U.S.A. - Regards of Stm. [sp?] L. Dec. 1890." as found in Deutsches Drittes
Lesebuch Für amerikanishe Schulen, 1886. It was very common to abbreviate names in the 19th century.

When we finally buy a house, my husband and I are in agreement that we need a library of sorts, so I tend to not get rid of very many books that have been purchased over the years. The only downside of having so many books is finding a place to store them in the meantime. Oh, and moving them every time we find a new place to live. Those boxes are usually the heaviest. But one thing is for certain: my obsession with old books will certainly add some extra character to our future home library.

New Year's Resolutions

I am not usually one for making new year resolutions, but this year I think I will make an exception. Apparently having the last two weeks of December off from work is enough for one to wallow in thoughts of all that one has not fully accomplished in one's life yet. Certainly, I have a great life and have been blessed many times over, but there have been many challenges and frustrations along the way as well. Being a perfectionist at times, it is easy to get in a rut of feeling less than adequate. This is such a female thing to do. Since I am the only one who can take the reigns in my life, I have decided to make a few resolutions, and if I put it out in the blogosphere, that is all the more motivation to follow through.

In no particular order, things I want to do in 2015:

• Be kinder to others.

This is not to say that I do not try to be kind to others in general, but everyone has moments when more patience could have been used in place of annoyance, hastiness, irritability, and a quick temper. It takes a lot of patience and effort to wait a few seconds before responding in less than ideal circumstances, but it pays off in the long run because usually a situation will either diffuse quickly or not even become a situation in the first place because of remembering to be kind to others.

Along with this, I am done with passive-aggressive apologies. Unfortunately, I caught myself this past year quite a few times in the act. "I am sorry that you took it that way... I am sorry that you were so offended... I am sorry that you misunderstood what I said." The list could go on. Any apology that puts the action back on the other person is not an apology. All it does is make the other person feel awful and incite a emotionally charged response. If you dish it out, expect it to be served back to you. It certainly was for me, and it was not fun to be on the receiving end. So, I am swearing off this type of language and might start to call others out on it because I am so tired of it. Keep it short, and keep it simple. "I'm sorry" will suffice and works wonders. Own up to actions that rub others the wrong way, whether intentional or not, and be forgiving of others is going to be a motto for 2015.