(nice visual, eh?)

Over the past few weeks, I’ve started to wonder (fear, actually) that I might need my meds adjusted upward. Anxiety has crept in. A general cantankerousness has joined my normally happy demeanor. I’m not excited about my life. And most of all, I find myself engaging in a thought script that involves a lot of doubt about myself, my life, and my choices. All of these are big red flag type indicators that something is amiss. But I’m only now spending the time delving in. Why?

For one thing, I’d be lying if I said pride wasn’t a factor. Yes, I might be on an antidepressant, but I’m on a low dose, and have never needed anything more than that. Pretty stupid, huh?

Beyond that, I have a case of fear-based “what if”s. What if I raise the dose, and that only helps for a brief time before I start tumbling again? What if I am *gasp* irreparably broken? If so, why fight? Why not just accept? Well, there is that teensy issue that life quickly becomes not worth much if I do give in.

Finally, I realized that if I’m needing a dose-boost, perhaps that means that there are non-medication fixes that I need in my life. Okay, not “perhaps” there are, but undoubtedly, there are changes that I need to make. And the biggest change I need to make is that I must — just must — get thoughts out of my head for processing more often. I rarely write any more, and when I do, it’s not of much substance, just a quote and a quip.

So, here I am, with a brain full-to-bursting of ideas, thoughts, emotions, and writing material. Why am I not writing?

Self-censorship.

This is a big deal, one that I’ve touched upon before. Wow, how much things have changed since those days, huh? What remains true is that for me to write well, I need to allow myself the freedom to write whatever strikes me, without worry about who’s reading. Does that mean I should just journal privately? Well, no — I don’t think so. Part of the fulfilling nature of writing for me is in having feedback (even the absence of feedback is feedback)!

Crap. I realize now, I’m censoring myself even in writing about censorship. Crap, crap, crap.

Moving on (since I’m a bit stuck), I moved to my current town (and it IS a town — only 20k people give or take, and an hour+ drive to Santa Fe) in February. As a result, while I have a few “friends” those friendships are more of the acquaintance variety. And, I do have a few very close friendships I maintain remotely, but how much do I want to dump on those folks with what’s in my head? At least one of my good friends, I’ve come to almost develop a complex about how much I’ve used her ear as I’ve struggled (yes, struggled) through the last two years. Yet, just the way my mind works (truly, I am very much an extrovert in how I process information), I must get thoughts out of my head in order to make sense of them. If I just think things over, it’s as if my brain is scratched CD. I’ll move on to other thoughts, just to have my current issue grab me again. If I write thoughts down, I can swim around in them a bit, picking them up and examining them one at a time, rearranging them until they make a modicum of sense to me. I can find patterns rather than being stuck with details. Telling my thoughts as a story, the story starts to take shape. I have a somewhat cohesive (if confusing) whole rather than a million discreet bits of mental debris.

But, if I write about my husband, he has this address. If I write about my beliefs regarding religion, it feels like I alienate people whom I love dearly, but who I know are believers. And in some cases, I have people I know in real life who read, but might not have the maturity of tact when sharing my thoughts with others.

Is it time for a new blog? What does it mean to be authentically myself, complete with the ugly parts and inconsistencies, and how do I balance that with kindness and compassion?

Whatever the answer, I need to find an outlet for all of this clutter that’s in my head. It’s making me crazy.

We’re having a boy, folks.

Last pregnancy, my skin was smooth and glowing. This time, I’m breaking out and oily. Oh, and I have extra hairs on my chinny-chin-chin.

Last pregnancy, I craved all-sugar-all-the-time. This time? Chicken. Bring me the chicken, darn it.

Last pregnancy, I got wide, and my belly grew low. This time? Well, I’m still getting wide (sigh…darned hips and thighs), but my belly is way the heck up near my ribcage. Let’s not discuss how much I weigh now at 21 weeks. The idea of piling 19ish pounds on top of that scares the bejesus out of me. Oddly, though, I feel great. I mean really, really great. And I love the belly enough that the butt and thighs are just annoying tag-alongs.

As different as everything is, and from the hint I got from intelligender, I had an inkling that this just might not be another girlie-girl. Nah. It’s a boy-boy-boy.

Gee, ya think? There was no room for questioning at this ultrasound. Not only did baby boy show the goods, he showed ALL the goods (seriously, we could see scrotum), multiple times. “Hi! I’m here! I’m HAPPY!”

He’s developing at a pretty normal pace, too, which relieves me and my fears of “what if this kid has a noggin as big as his dad’s?”

Looks pretty cozy in there, to me. I wouldn’t mind a recliner like that.

Since learning (three weeks ago, sorry to be so late) that this is a he-baby, we sorted through Maya’s piles (and piles) of baby clothing and packed a 30+ pound box to ship to Iowa to Mike’s sister, who’s having a girl next month. No, we haven’t decided for sure whether this will be “the end” for us, but why let all those cute things just sit unused? The universe will surely reciprocate should we have another baby girl down the road. And for this one, friends have given me stacks of boy duds to start with. And, of course, we *had* to buy a few new-to-this-baby items, just because we could. Who knew that boy clothing could be so fun?

We still don’t have timing on the move to Austria. Our last update was mid-October, that the Director General of the IAEA had signed off the paperwork, THEN it was going back to personnel, and THEN it would be sent to us. Maybe by Thanksgiving we’ll have details? Whatever, Mike knows that if we hit mid-January (32 weeks) without a move, I will seriously look at moving to Colorado until after the baby’s born. He says he will NOT let that happen.

So, that’s what’s up here…we’re still preparing for a big move in the December/January timeframe, but getting yanked around about the details. We’re told this is quite normal, and to expect things to move VERY quickly once they finally get us the paperwork. Wait and hurry-up.

Once again, I’ve been a neglectful blogger. Eh, what can I say? This thing’s here for my amusement, and sometimes I’m just too…amused…doing other things to take the time to post.

Still, I must at least post a few quick updates:

1. I’m pregnant. This time, it seems to be sticking (Today is 35 days post-ovulation, aka gestational week 7), and my body has responded accordingly. I’m getting big. Immediately, can’t-wear-my-normal-clothing big. With a little help from Target and Kohls, I have enough bottom half items to make due for a while, hopefully through the end of the summer. Baby was conceived in Japan (like you *really* wanted to know that?), and the due date will be sometime mid-March-ish. My calculations say 19Mar08, but the doctor might say otherwise when we visit with her on Friday.

2. Baby will likely be born in Vienna. Vienna, Austria that is (nope, not Virginia). Mike has been advised that the formal offer from the IAEA (intl atomic energy agency) is on its way — for a job that will move us to Europe for two years, with an option for a third year. You know those inspector guys they send to North Korea? And the ones they kick out of Iran? He’ll be the guy training them. Well, maybe not THOSE guys specifically (they’re the high-level, experienced ones), but the inspectors who are still early in their careers. Coolness. It pays to marry a brainiac.

Lots has happened, and I’m relieved to be home from all the summer travel. You mean I get to stay here? For at least a whole month? Yee-haw! I might even get a few travel pictures posted.

…that I married a wonderful man?

Can’t (okay, won’t) really go into today’s reason why…but trust me, I did.

.

You know that smile I was rhapsodizing about yesterday? Here it is. I mean seriously. Tasty.

Me, I’m being a goof, as usual.

Thank you Sean for the pics!

Fondness & Affection, Day 4:

Thought: I am physically attracted to my partner.
Task: Think of one physical attribute you like.

Mmmmm. Yes. I’ll just pick one. Or two. Or three.

Mike has a smile that could stop traffic, complete with laugh lines that indicate a long-held sense of humor about life. From the very first phone call, I’ve loved his voice. When you put those together, you get a laugh that could melt the coldest blizzard…a perfect storm of attraction. Yum.

Day 3:

Thought: I can easily remember romantic, special times in our marriage.
Task: Pick one such time and think about it.

I skipped this yesterday. Somehow, even though I know it would help my attitude, it’s kind of tough to build up motivation do do this when deep down, you want to throttle your husband. I got over it. Ah, mawidge.

On with the exercise:

On our first *real* date (ie, alone, no child along), Mike and I had dinner together at a lovely Indian restaurant in the Cherry Creek area of Denver. The setting was fantastic, and for the first time, we were able to have a meal complete with adult conversation uninterrupted by a toddler. Bliss.

So, what did we talk about? Why, parenting, of course. (Figures. The whole eight days we spent in Costa Rica without Maya? We talked about her all. the. time. You don’t know how much you’re going to miss your kids. Maya, on the other hand didn’t ask for me a single time.) Ahem…where was I? Right, parenting.

Mike started to tell me his philosophy on raising children — one which centered largely on letting a child be who they are, and supporting them as they find their own way, rather than pushing them to conform to some preconceived notion he might have had. For some people, this might not have qualified as romantic. For me, I was nearly in tears. I’ve got an amazing man on my hands, did you know that?

Wondering what this is? Read this post.

Thought: I can easily speak of the good times in our marriage.
Task: Pick one good time and write a sentence about it.

Little romantic gestures don’t come naturally to my INTP spouse (who sees them as vaguely ridiculous), but knowing that I’ve said I enjoy flowers, he showed up the other night with a bright bouquet. The flowers are lovely; but, his willingness to listen to the little things I’ve told him can help me feel loved…priceless.

Added
I forgot to extend this invitation: If you’re married or in a relationship, and you’d like to join in, please do. Leave your happy thoughts about your S/O in the comments, or write them up at your blog — but please leave a link here, too.

Day 1

Thought: I am genuinely fond of my partner.
Task: List one characteristic you find endearing or lovable.

This is easy. I *am* genuinely fond of my husband. Do I only get to list one characteristic?

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No matter how much you think you’re ready, marriage is hard. Talking to friends who’ve BTDT, that’s what I’ve learned. At least knowing I’m not alone in this keeps me from thinking that I’m just particularly bad at being a wife…apparently, this is quite normal.

As I attempt to be good at this whole marriage thing (or at least not horrifically bad), I’ve done what I normally do when confronted with something new: I read. My husband has been a tad mocking of my affinity for self-help books (seems that’s mostly what I’m reading lately), but hell…if they actually allow me to help myself, are they all that bad?

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