A Woman and the Mountains: 2015

Sunday, December 27, 2015

Stories of Perspective

Pregnancy changes your perspective on a lot of things; your body, what "normal" feels like, your outlook on life, what things are important, where you should spend your money, the list goes on. I've thought a lot about perspective and how mine has changed, or how being pregnant changes people's perspective in general. Here are a few of my favorite stories.

"I'm feeling pretty good..."

I've been going to prenatal yoga since week 12, and it's one of the best thing I've done for myself my entire pregnancy thus far. My class starts with each woman introducing themselves and saying how far along they are and anything that's going on with their pregnancy/body that week they would like to work on. After a few weeks of going I had to laugh that after each round of discussion we had, our teacher would say "okay, well it sounds like we're going to have an easy and slow practice tonight." No matter how far along or how *good* everyone was feeling that day, it always called for a slow and easy hour of already-modified yoga. One story that stuck out to me was a woman about 34ish weeks along who's narrative went like this: "I'm feeling pretty good... actually, I have preeclampsia so I have some swelling, can't really eat salt, you know, kind of uncomfortable.... I haven't figured out a good way to sleep so I'm not getting a whole lot sleep... my shoes don't really fit *laughs*... but overall I feel pretty good!" Maybe she just had a positive outlook on life, but from what I've read preeclampsia doesn't feel *pretty good*. For those of you that don't read WebMD for conditions you may never have (see: testicular cancer, for me), my yoga teacher explained it best in layman's terms: it's basically your body starting to reject the baby. Websites don't put it that way, and I can't say that it's fact, but basically your blood pressure spikes, you retain water and swell up like a balloon, and if it persists it can be life-threatening to you and baby. I suppose after 34 weeks of pregnancy mild preeclampsia isn't a reason to wallow and feel crappy. It certainly didn't stop her from making it to a yoga class. You go, girl.

"I'm Okay"

This is in the same vein as the last story, but it's about me. I had a bout of round ligament pain at 17 weeks; for those that aren't familiar, the round ligaments surround the uterus and stretch and thicken to support it during pregnancy. For me, round ligament pain consisted of the sharp, jabbing pain when sneezing or moving too quickly that most are familiar with, but also a dull, constant ache in my lower abdomen. One morning I woke up for work and could tell I would be achy all day. There's nothing you can really do for this type of pain when you're sitting at a desk all day, but as a woman you learn to deal with these types of pains with a (forced) smile on your face. I got up for the 20th (slight exaggeration, but only slight) time to pee and lumbered back to my desk, hand propped on my lower back (also giving me dull, achy pains all day). Someone noticed and asked if I was getting kicked ("I saw you holding your back!"). I smiled and said, "oh, just a back ache!". What I wanted to say was, "No, not at that moment, but a few minutes ago I was getting kicked in the uterus. It was magical and weird. But no, not right now. Right now my uterus that started the size of an orange is the size of a cantaloupe and no longer fits inside my pelvis, so the everything is stretching and it feels awful. Also, it's smushing all of my internal organs. My stomach feels like it might explode out of my body, or maybe I'm hungry, I can't tell. I can't sit upright because it puts too much pressure on my abdomen and makes me nauseous. That's what's up." So what's the story on perspective? Well, pregnancy has heightened my awareness on how people interact with me and how much information they really want. I can tell when people are asking a question because they care but also are being polite, and which people really do want to know more. I don't look at those groups of people differently, but I do modify the truth to what fits the situation. This mental juggling may sound tiring, but it's actually sometimes easier just to say "I'm fine" than explain how I really feel.

Body Talk

I "popped" around 15-16 weeks, though it was partially baby and partially stuffing my sausage legs into non-maternity pants. "Honey, please stop referring to them as 'love handles'. It's weird.", was something I heard from fiancé more than once. I knew the number on the scale was climbing at that point, and a doctor's appointment confirmed I had gained about 4-5 more pounds over the prior 3-4 weeks. I know people might scoff at that and say they gained that much on Thanksgiving, but I assure you that you didn't retain that. Sometimes my weight fluctuates 5 pounds from morning to evening, but I had gained 4-5 retained pounds, if that makes sense. Anyway, after the doctor's appointment my mom asked me how much I weighed and she nearly hit the floor when I told her. I'm up 11 pounds so far (feels like 50), but she guessed 28 pounds less than I actually am. She simply didn't believe me. I couldn't understand how she thought I weighed what I haven't in, like, two years, but then again I feel like a frickin' manatee and I'm not even halfway. I type this with my belly protruding out of my size large pajama pants.

I might feel like a manatee, but it's a slow change that's not always noticeable over the weeks. It wasn't until we took a "belly pic" on Christmas and compared it to my first one at 5 weeks that my eyes popped out of my head. My mom's reaction was "HOOOOOHOHOHOWHOAAA, WHOA. MY GOODNESS." Thank you, mom. I knew it had been a big change since most of my clothes didn't fit and the underwear+bras I bought 8 weeks ago "with some extra room" are suddenly uncomfortably tight, but seeing is really believing. The belly is here.

Male Doctors and Being Comfortable with Anything

I would say I have a normal level of discomfort with sharing information about my bodily functions. I get a little red faced when the OB-GYN asks if I have oral, anal, vaginal sex, or all when I go in because I think I have a yeast infection. I had some hesitations about seeing a male OB-GYN, especially since I've only ever seen females. I don't think anyone particularly enjoys stripping down for a full-body physical, but I had a little extra relief when our doctor said I didn't have to do another physical at our most recent appointment (which was our first with him). A few minutes later, though, I realized how little I cared that he was a man, because he was the one that let us hear our baby's heartbeat for the first time (we had only seen it on the first ultrasound). I've really stopped caring about things I may have been embarrassed to talk about before. It's not weird to have people tell me my nipples are going to get bigger. I can just hear all of my more modest friends cringing at that sentence. So much is happening to me, amazing and crazy and uncomfortable and amazing again, and they are all things that have happened to every pregnant woman. They're all things every OB-GYN has seen a bajillion times ("I haven't pooped in 4 days please help me"), and they're all things moms have great advice on ("take the cocoa butter, rub it on your belly, thighs, butt, and sides of your boobs if you ever want them to look the same after this"). Pregnancy has a way of letting you let go of those things that may turn your face red and breaks down the wall to let everyone and anyone that has been there give you unfiltered, honest advice you can actually use.

In other news that I alluded to earlier, we got to hear the heartbeat at our last appointment, 148 bpm, and everything is measure on track. I feel movement and kicks several times a day now. Our anatomy scan is just after the new year, and if baby cooperates we will start planning a gender reveal for late January!

Sunday, December 6, 2015

My "...Situation" aka "That Whole Fetus Thing"

We can all agree that finding a new job sucks. It takes a lot of time, a lot of stress, and a lot of energy. I've been on the job hunt multiple times, but of course never while pregnant. I was suddenly thrust into a whole new world of unknowns (in many ways, really) and realized I may actually be subject to discrimination for the first time. Sure, women are discriminated against in discreet and obvious ways all the time, but being a white woman from a standard middle class upbringing means I haven't really faced much discrimination in my life. Sure, maybe things here and there, but overall my life has been pretty easy in comparison to many.

So many women are waiting to start families because they want to focus on their career first. It makes sense, being more financially stable is a good idea if you want to have kids. The reality is also that having a child wildly changes your life, and not everyone is comfortable or feels they can take a lot of time away work and still advance. I would like to say that many workplaces are very accommodating to mothers in the 21st century, but I don't really know. As I searched for jobs I was mostly concerned about when to tell my potential employer that I was pregnant, and if disclosing that would affect my chances of getting a job.

Discriminating against pregnant women is illegal in hiring process and the workplace, but the answer I consistently uncovered in my research in articles, forums, etc., was to not disclose the information until you at least had an offer (many waited until they actually had the job). Sure, you legally cannot be discriminated against because you are pregnant but there's 100 other reasons an employer could give you for not being offered the job (and who knows, they may be legit, but they also may not).

The next thing I learned was that I would not be protected under the Family Medical Leave Act because I needed to be working for an employer for a year to qualify. Basically, I am not guaranteed paid leave, a certain length of leave, or that my job would be available after my leave no matter where I work. Based on that, I decided I would disclose my pregnancy once I had an offer because if an employer wasn't willing to work with me then I wouldn't be willing to work for them.

I had a pretty typical job search experience: sending out a million applications, resumes, cover letters, hearing back every now and then, stressing, day dreaming, the usual. Eventually I landed an interview and stuck with my plan to disclose after getting an offer. I got the offer and reached out to the recruiter I had worked with (third party, not part of the organization I interviewed with) who happened to be a very curt, business-focused man that I only ever talked to on the phone. I asked to talk to talk to the person I interviewed with, a pleasant, warm, woman that I assumed would know more about how they would handle my needs. He insisted I go through him, so I awkwardly composed an email, hit send, and hoped for the best. Thankfully, my future employer was willing to work with my needs and said I would eligible to return to my job after a leave since I would be fully trained. The recruiter, on the other hand, only referred to my pregnancy as "your... ~situation~" liked I had contracted some unmentionable disease.

The transition to a new schedule and routine has been a little tough, but good overall. We told the whole world a week before I started my job, so my next hurdle was figuring out if/when to tell my training group (~25 people + members of the leadership team that filter in and out daily during training). I could tell right off the bat that it was an accepting and supportive culture, and saw a few rooms dedicated to nursing moms. We had a typical, awkward first ice breaker in which we received a word and had to introduce ourselves in front of the group with an additional 15-20 people from the leadership team, then connect ourselves to the word. The business school flashbacks consumed me. Anyway, my word was cupcake, and as people said their names, word, and anecdotes, I thought "hm, maybe I should just get it out of the way now, tell the whole world! Everyone will know!" Remember, at this point I still don't look pregnant except maybe to those that know me well.

He knows the stress of cupcakes.

My introduction went like this: "Hi everyone, my name is Molly. Before this I was working for a non-profit focused on land conservation and recreation. My word is 'cupcake', and I like to think that like cupcakes I go well in any situation"... I can feel the red flush creeping up my face to my cheeks ... "also, my mom is pastry chef and I might bring in cupcakes from time to time" ... just say it ... and I sit down as the room chuckles and wonders when exactly those cupcakes will be arriving. I wanted to say "and my fiance and I are expecting our first baby, so I could really go for a cupcake right now". Funny, cute, perfect way to get it out there. Unfortunately, the room full of 40+ strangers and my anxiety stopped me.

After a few days and learning about a few other people with young children in the group, I started to tell smaller groups. I haven't quite figured out how to say it in a way that doesn't feel slightly awkward ("how was your lunch?" "It was okay, but I have to pump so it's a little lonely." "Oh! (perfect segue?) Sorry to hear that..... I'm actually pregnant!") Everyone I have told has been super supportive and excited for me, but I have had a few of those awkward interactions that go like: "Congratulations!" *eye contact* *look at my belly* *back to eye contact* "that's so great!" or "you don't even look it!". I know, that's because the baby is the size of a navel orange right now. Orange you glad I told you that fun fact?

.... sorry.

Anyway, what I learned is that job hunting sucks 99% of the time and being pregnant only adds stress. I chose to disclose sooner than some, but I feel like I made the right choice. I don't want to work somewhere that is unwilling to work with me. Sometimes pregnancy at work feels like some sort of disability (maybe since it's legally classified as one) or elephant in the room, and I still don't feel totally comfortable about it yet. Yes, everyone has been great so far, but I still feel added pressure that I need to be on my game since my job legally isn't guaranteed after my leave. I will become a permanent employee at the end of February, then have to go on leave 3ish months later. That's a bit stressful, but I'm hoping I made a good choice and am somewhere that doesn't see pregnancy as my ... "situation".

Friday, November 27, 2015

First is the Worst, Second is the Best...

Written at 11 weeks (now 15+)

You know that saying, "first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with treasure chest?" I used to think it was a way to make myself feel better for not getting the first whatever or winning something, but now I wholeheartedly believe it is referring to the trimesters of pregnancy. First trimester is the worst, second is (supposedly) the best, third is the one with the treasure chest.

When I started to entertain the thought of "having kids one day" in my early 20s suddenly everyone around me was pregnant. There were ladies with pleasant round bellies in spandex pushing their toddlers around in strollers looking simply delightful. The Internet caught on and -BAM- ads on every website featured a beautiful, happy moms-to-be. They were all glowing, they were all overjoyed. They were all liars.

I am exaggerating, they're not all liars, and the reality of it is that the poor woman that has to run off the bus to throw up in a public trash can is probably pregnant, too (or maybe just hungover). There's a good chance that lady in the spandex with a lovely baby bump probably had terrible morning sickness and wanted to cry for 8 weeks straight. It's no secret that pregnancy isn't easy, but even the websites detailing the terrible symptoms often make it look, well, not so bad.

This is a lie.

I will say that I am incredibly, INCREDIBLY, lucky to be able to get through this first trimester without working and/or taking care of other children. I am also incredibly lucky to not have my head in the toilet all the time. Get a group of mom's together and I assure you many of them will give you droves of horror stories of their pregnancy symptoms. I pictured having a few kids, but there's been moments when I have thought, "eh, one is fine. One is plenty. Maybe I'm not the maternal warrior goddess I thought I was."

To start off, morning sickness is not exclusive to the morning. Though the nausea and vomiting are the hallmark of the first trimester, they are far from the only woes to get through. My migraines have picked up a lot, going from once-twice a month to once-twice a week, or more. Digestion slows down, causing more nausea and brutal constipation. Sore breasts make wearing a bra feel like a goddamn prison, but going up a cup size already means that not wearing a bra isn't an option anymore (big chested women are rolling their eyes at me, I know. I've been one of those people that could leave the house without a bra up until now, and I miss it already). Your body goes through general aches and pains as your uterus stretches to accommodate the little one. The fatigue caused by your body, well, growing another body and placenta is unmatched. All of this sounds terrible, but the hardest thing to deal with is the length of time you must deal with it. Sure, I've felt more sick with the flu, but it's over in 24-72 hours. You know that feeling you get when you're just sick and tired of being sick and tired? Imagine feeling that but knowing it will last for maybe another 6, 8, 10, 20 weeks more, who knows. Some unlucky women are sick their entire pregnancy.

My idea of "success" has totally changed. Getting up off the couch and doing 10 minutes of yoga was an achievement. Going out to the store for some general errand was monumental (of course, it took a few hours to mentally and physically prepare, I must be armed with PsiBands for motion sickness, and always have an emergency plastic bag in my pocket in case of public vomiting). The more time goes by the more active I have become, but it wasn't long ago that getting out for a 15-minute walk felt like conquering Everest. Last week I managed an hour long walk, a monumental feat. It's a hard adjustment, coming from an avid hiker, cyclist, and generally active person.

A more accurate portrayal.

It must sound like I hate being pregnant, which isn't true. I don't hate it, but it is much more difficult than I pictured. The truth is that I didn't picture it, really. I knew what symptoms to expect, but all of those + the insane surge of hormones + keeping a secret from most of the world is tough. I do have a good support from other moms, but many of them are not in my immediate area. I'm not feeling well enough to participate in normal social life, so things can get lonely. The combination of all of these things make life tough sometimes, but I think I'm finally turning a corner. At least I freakin' hope. My energy is a bit better, I don't feel sick as often (though there are still moments, usually at least once a day). I try to appreciate why I feel like an extra on The Walking Dead, because I know I have good reason. Enjoy isn't the right word, but sometimes I can "enjoy", or at least laugh at, the symptoms. Now that I'm able to get out and walk around town and go out to run errands and mildly enjoy it things are a bit easier. I've heard the second trimester is a mythical wonderland, but I've also read horror stories of women being sick well into the second or third trimesters... and of people who thought they finally beat the morning sickness just to have it coming screaming back a week later. *Fingers crossed*.

Live shot of me in my living room.

The hardest thing to realize is that not always loving pregnancy doesn't make you a bad mom. I've read many anecdotes/articles/stories of people that simply hated their pregnancies but have gone on to be wonderful moms to multiple children. Pregnancy frequently sucks, and it's not something that people truly talk about outside of certain company, online forums, etc. I even gloss over how I feel most of the time (unless it's really bad), and answer "how are you feeling?" with "....okay. Every day is different". I have been totally honest with some people and scared at least one person away from ever having children, but I think it's hard to grasp how difficult this process can be just from asking "how are you feeling?". Only three weeks left of my first trimester, here's hoping the second brings some sort of unicorn-like, magical changes to my life. Until then, more Internet pregnancy humor.

Welcome To Pregnancy: Here's a Pick Mattock.

I can bet that most mothers remember when they were suspicious they may be pregnant for the first time. I can bet that most of those stories don't involve digging a large pit in the middle of Maine's densely forested 100-Mile Wilderness.

Climbing a tree to set up a high line

When I tell family and friends that I'm doing trail work, or leading teens in trail work, or helping run adult volunteer trail work days, I'm not sure they fully grasp what it is I'm doing. Sometimes they probe more and I explain that in trail work we maintain existing trails and install new structures to help with water and/or erosion control. Sometimes we install new signs. Sometimes we walk for miles with loppers and simply cut back what is growing into the trail. They "get it" a little more, but it's one of those things that's hard to imagine if you've never done anything like it. Up until now my work had been all with volunteers, first with teens and then with various groups of adults ranging from early 20s to early 70s. Professional crews, however, are much different. The focus is on output, not on making sure your volunteers are safe and having a good time. While leaders of volunteer crews (especially teen crews) do often take on the hardest, most dangerous tasks, the intensity of work is much higher on a professional crew.

For starters, we are usually out 10 days at a time. There are less of us and often more tools, and most often we bring heavier, more complicated tools such as grip hoists and chainsaws. A four person crew can easily carry out 50-80 pound packboards strapped to the gills with tools, a tool in each hand, and usually multiple strapped to personal packs (and of course, our personal packs have food, extra clothes, and water, etc.) on the first day and still not have it all. That's not every 10-day stint, but it's not uncommon. So, we slog all of this stuff in and then do at least 8 hours of hard, physical work per day for 10 days (sometimes 5, depending on the schedule) straight. We hike in and out of our work site every day. The day isn't over when the work day is over, for we have night time chores of cooking dinner, fetching and filtering water (depending on where we are), and washing dishes before finally passing out. We don't take the day off if it rains, not even if it rains for 5 days straight. We don't get to call out sick because we have a headache; well, you could, but it ends up being a decent chunk of money out of your paycheck for a relatively short fall season.

Hike home from work

Our first stint in the woods, what we call a "hitch", was only 3 days because of orientation & paperwork stuff, and it was a perfect amount of time to gear up for the season without totally wiping ourselves out. The next hitch was 9 days (we got Labor Day off), and it went well for me but the whole crew was understandably toasted by day 8. It was the next hitch, the first true 10-day, that really kicked my butt. Or so I thought.

Why yes, I dug this giant hole.

It actually started before our hitch. I had a lazy day off and tried to take a mid-day nap. I succeeded for a while, but when I got up I felt almost drunk. I was still so tired that I felt unsteady on my feet. Convinced I just woke up in the wrong part of my sleep cycle, I went on with life. As I packed for our 10-day stint I knew I should bring the trusty DivaCup (if you don't know what that is, it is, in short, a woman's best friend in the woods). I track my cycle using an app on my phone, which helps in instances like this when being in the middle of the woods without a tampon would be a bummer, to say the least.

The first few days went well but small red flags started to pop up. It's hard to interpret your bodies signals when you're doing trail work. Tired? That makes sense. Sore breasts? Smash them into a sports bra for most of the day, of course they'll be sore. Generally not feeling well? A sickness had been going around on the crew, maybe I just got that... Period one, two, three days late? It's not uncommon to delay or skip a period because of significant physical activity or illness.

It wasn't until I was 2 days late that I started doing the math and ended up crying in a pit in the woods that I started to admit to reality. I was 2 days late for my "average" cycle, and I put average in quotes because my last few cycles had been longer than normal. I realized that if I went by my normal average, I was 6 days late. 2 days versus 6 days late is a big deal. 2 days late isn't anything to write home about, 6 days is. Later that day I went to our "borrow pit", which is a giant hole you dig in the middle of the woods to get mineral soil (more durable for trail surfaces than top soil). I slowly lumbered into the pit and sluggishly scooped a few loads of dirt into the bucket. Suddenly, I realized 5 minutes had gone by and I was just staring at the ground like a robot that's battery just kicked the bucket. I began to cry not because I was sad, but because I was so tired.

Mornings at our "spike" (remote) campsite

For the next two days I played mental ping pong convincing myself that I was pregnant and then immediately discrediting it. We planned to go into town on our 7th day in the woods for a surprise birthday party for one of our crew mates. I chickened out on telling anyone, and I think it was because saying it out loud made it real and I wasn't ready for it to be real yet. We all had to go to the store together to refill our propane tank, and thankfully it's a store in town where you can buy a box of cereal, a rifle, and a pregnancy test all in one trip if you want. I scurried into the store hoping no one would follow closely behind, and to my horror I saw that pregnancy tests were located behind the courtesy desk, with other contraband for deviants such as cigarettes and booze, and required flagging down an employee. I wasn't ashamed to buy a pregnancy test, but I was concerned because every one knows every one else and all of your business in Greenville. In the end I did escape unnoticed, but not entirely. I would find out later that one of the cashiers said to another member on my crew, "oh yeah, a girl was in here a few days to buy a pregnancy test! I didn't even know we kept them over there!" She immediately suspected it was me, and she was right. Damnit, Greenville.

I didn't want to steal my crew mates thunder at his own birthday dinner, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out my fate in a dingy, LED-lit restaurant/bar bathroom, but I was fooling myself thinking I had the patience to wait. I didn't wait. The test was almost immediately positive. There is no protocol for how to react when getting a positive pregnancy test during a birthday dinner in the bathroom of a bar where locals go to get hammered on a Tuesday, so I just went out to the table and tried to act like nothing was going on. I texted dad-to-be some casual, vague thing about his schedule the next day, and he immediately knew something was up. I wasn't in the state to pull off a good white lie, so I reluctantly but excitedly shared the news over the phone.

Here I sit not even one week after taking the test and it feels like it's been a month. By our calculations I'm just over 6 weeks preggo, but our first ultrasound in ten days will give us more accurate information. The whirlwind of stress, joy, anticipation, research, finding a doctor, discussing the future, more stress, more bursting-at-the-seams-happiness, has taken a lot out of us. Not to mention the dreaded - BUM BUM BUMMMM - first trimester symptoms.

Every time I think I've finally figured out when I'll feel good and when I won't, something changes. Luckily (*knocks on wood*) I've gotten by with just dealing with nausea and not vomiting, so I'm able to eat here and there. One day I'll feel all but normal, the next I'll wake up and not want anyone to speak to me, touch me, move near me, breathe around me, or even exist in my presence for a solid 4-5 hours. I'm embracing most of the symptoms and getting used to my new normal, but there's times when I cannot simply embrace how I feel.

Of course, this post won't be up until much later when I reach my second trimester and we tell the world the good news. That should be in about 6.5 - 7 weeks (around Thanksgiving) if our initial calculations are right.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

A Little City with Big Heart

On January 5th, 2015, I decided I was officially done with Boston.

I have no idea why that date stuck in my head. I sat down at my desk after returning from a refreshing New Year's trip in the Whites, and I got an overwhelming sense that I was D-O-N-E with Boston, but for real this time. I immediately looked at the calendar and the date stuck in my mind. January 5th.

Originally, I had a whole ode to Boston post planned, but I wrote it and promptly deleted it. I would rather have pictures do the talking. Now that my time in Boston is coming to an end I do feel more nostalgic for this little city with big heart. There's plenty (PLENTY) of things I am more than happy to leave behind, but I did a lot of learning and growing in my six years here. I lived in Boston during some of the greatest and hardest times in its life, with many ups and downs in my own life. All in all, I'm ready to leave but this place does have a special place in my heart. So, here it is.

2008

"The Big City"