Me and Bret Michaels

When I was pregnant, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, and part of that diagnosis meant that I had to get tested again after having the baby to determine if I'm actually diabetic. So a few weeks ago, I took a follow-up glucose test, and my numbers came back high. So, I made an appointment with my doctor, and in the days between receiving my results and my doctor's appointment, I freaked out a bit. But eventually, I came around to the idea that although I was diabetic, it was something I could control and live with. I even decided that whenever I would blog about diabetes, I'd use the label "Me and Bret Michaels" because on Rock of Love, Bret Michaels often mentions that he has diabetes and he pronounces it weird ("dia-bettis").

So I went to my doctor's appointment last week fully expecting to get educated about my condition, get prescriptions for more lancets and testing strips, and be on my merry, little low-carb way. Instead, the doctor gave me a quick A1C test, took a look at my results, and determined that there was no way I'm diabetic.

Although I'm very relieved that I'm not diabetic, the news was a bit jarring. Since July, I've been counting my carbs and trying to eat a healthy, balanced diet. And now I don't have to anymore. Which, believe me, is welcome news. But at the same time, I sort of enjoyed having to follow a diet. So despite this diagnosis, I'm going to try to continue eating the same way. (Although if my eating habits of the past four days are any indication, this will be short-lived.) Having gestational diabetes means I'll always be at an increased risk of forming diabetes later in life, so hopefully, I can always keep that "later" part 20 years away.

Live-Action Christmas Card

We wanted to get a picture of Rosie and Maya together for our Christmas card this year, but figured that the chance of getting the two of them to hold still long enough to get a good shot were pretty much nil. So instead, we shot them together on our Flip cam, which allows you to turn video into stills.

Here's the video...


Live-Action Christmas Card from Sarah Wunder on Vimeo.


...and the resulting pic.

Although Chris really, really wanted to send this one out instead.

Happy holidays everyone!

On leave

First of all, here are the results to the "3 Reasons" post:

1. To hear how Maya vocalizes her love for left thumb.
2. As Highnumber correctly guessed, to hear Chris get very impressed with a midget's weight.
3. To hear the thumb-sucking stop long enough to let out a nice fart.

You missed that last one, didn't you? I think you should go back and watch it again.

Second, I've returned to the working world, and honestly? I couldn't be happier. I struggled with, and am continuing to struggle with, the fact that I did not enjoy maternity leave. It was hard. Really hard. Harder than my job by a long shot.

In the first few weeks, I was physically limited. I couldn't sit for very long, or stand for very long, or walk for very long. I wasn't sleeping and barely had time to eat or go to the bathroom.

As my strength returned, Maya also starting sleeping at night (or perhaps my strength returned because she started sleeping at night), which made things a bit easier. But sleeping at night meant she was awake most of the day. And most days, she spent a good deal of her awake hours crying. If she'd been changed, fed and burped and still cried, pretty much the only thing that made her stop was being carried around while I paced the halls for hours. We'd walk from the living room to the kitchen and back. Over and over again. Then up and down the stairs. Again and again.

Sometimes we'd go for a walk outside, but this was more difficult than it sounds. Going outside meant I'd have to change out of my pajamas and into real clothes and shoes. And that process was not fun because it was usually accompanied by a screaming baby. Once I'd put her in her crib to go change, she'd start screaming. The kind of screams where her whole head turns red and no sound comes out and tears roll down her cheeks, and I'd feel so terrible that most days, I'd choose to pace the house for hours rather than put her through 5 minutes of this type of screaming.

There were a lot of days that I wanted nothing more than an hour to do the dishes and tidy up. The house got so unorganized. We had tons of gift boxes and bags from friends and family on the coffee table, in her room and on the floor. Newspapers piled up on the front porch. Dishes overflowed the sink. Dog hair covered everything. We went weeks without changing the sheets. In my old age, I've become more and more obsessive about a clean house. When the house is full of clutter, I get stressed out. And many days during leave, I'd sit in the rocking chair nursing Maya, staring at all that clutter, about to have a nervous breakdown.

And some days, I did break down. She'd cry all day, and so would I. It wasn't until she was about 8 weeks old that her crying slowed down. She's take regular naps and I've have a chance to eat, clean and relax. And when she was awake, she was in a good mood and we'd play. That's when maternity leave started to get fun. But it's also when I went back to work.

Currently, I'm working from home a few days a week and going into the office on the other days. Chris is doing the same, and my parents babysit once a week. Next month, Maya starts daycare. And although I'm a little sad about her spending the majority of her waking hours with non-family members, I know that it has to be this way. I like going to work everyday. I enjoy eating lunch at a leisurely pace without the fear that the baby will begin crying any minute. I like have the option of going to the bathroom when nature calls rather than getting trapped on the rocking chair holding a nursing or sleeping baby. I enjoy working with people, helping clients, solving problems, and most of all, not watching TV all day.

And I like missing Maya. It sounds terrible, but it's true. I'm so happy to see her when I get home from work everyday. But when I was on leave, I can't say I was always happy to see her. When Maya was about 5 or 6 weeks old, I went to the grocery store by myself, and Chris stayed home with her. It was the first time in her life that we were apart for more than a few minutes. I was only gone for about an hour, but honestly, I wanted to stay at the grocery store all day.

Part of me feels terrible for feeling this way. As a mom, I'm supposed to cherish every moment I spend with my daughter. I'm supposed to wish I could stay home with her. I'm supposed be the only person who knows how to make her happy or stop her crying. But I'm not that mom. I'm the mom who loves her daughter, but also loves her job. And I'm the mom who sometimes — a lot of times — has no clue how to make her daughter happy.

I'd like to conclude right now with something like "but I'm OK with that." But I'm not yet. On one hand, I'm glad that I value both my career and my family, and that I can admit that I don't have all the answers when it comes to being a successful mom. But on the other hand, I can't help but beat myself up over the fact that perhaps I wasn't born with that mom instinct.

So instead, I'll conclude this way. I still don't know how to feel about any of this, but I think it's important to be honest about it in a public way. There were many days that I'd think about and reread this post from my bloggy-friend Melinda, and this post from my co-worker Michelle to remind myself that yes, I'm miserable, and yes, that's OK.

My little turkey

For Thanksgiving this year, Chris, Maya and I went to Pennsylvania, which is where most of Chris' relatives live. His parents and sister also came up from North Carolina. Chris' dad is a professional photographer, which means that with little more than Grandma's couch, a camera, a fancy light, and a blue Snuggie as a backdrop, we got some awesome pics that look like they were shot in a studio. Jealous? You should be.