I'm a traveling man, Made a lot of stops all over the world

This is the first moment I've been able to sit and take stock of what has happened in the last week. Actually, what has happened in the last year, because that's how far I'm taking this flashback.

End of September 2012, I arrived in New York City to hang out with some friends for a few days, go to another friend's wedding, travel from Northern NJ down to Baltimore and catch a flight to Greenland so that I could visit with Scott for a week. But, instead of all of that, I found out on the day that I landed in NYC that Scott had broken his ankle and was going to be transported to an army hospital in Virginia. He and I spent the majority of October in a hotel in Fort Belvoir, having him go through two separate surgeries. We were still able to have fun and I was even lucky enough to catch a post season MLB game at the Washington Nationals stadium, thus crossing that off my "list of stadiums to go to." Not too shabby.

Montage time: Scott finishes his time in Greenland, we pack up our home in Colorado, have a loooong awaited reception for our wedding, move to Japan, live in Yokota for 4 months.

In all that time, Scott was still limping. He finally gets a doctor here at Yokota to look at it and then flew down to Hawaii for a further assessment, came back and told me he needed to get another surgery because a) the bones never healed properly and they are fusing incorrectly and b) a screw that was placed in his ankle has broken. Keep in mind: Scott had previously broken THE SAME ANKLE back in August 2009.

Conclusion: his surgery must take place in Hawaii again, he is required to have a chaperone to travel and stay with him. Sounds fantastic, right? We'll get back to this, because in the meanwhile....

One of our mutual and close friends gets engaged and was to be married 6 months after the engagement. Scott and I made the decision to send me to represent the Fourres and have Scott and Violet stay behind. I went, I cried, I partied, I laughed. I was also a walking zombie because of the jet lag and time difference, but I was able to cowboy up for a good time.

I then flew back and only after one good night's sleep, I tried to tackle the possibility of Scott having to leave for Hawaii a day before Violet and me. Looking down the barrel of an 8 hour flight and being the only one to wrangle a very active 2 year old was a little bit too much for me to wrap my head around. Especially considering we had less than a week to nail down the details and were coming up against a 4 day weekend (stupid Labor Day....)

In order to nail down said details, we needed Scott to receive his orders. In order to do that, I had to fill out some paperwork, though it took me three trips to the hospital offices to do this. Time check? Wednesday the 28th and Scott is (semi-)scheduled to leave on Monday the 2nd for a surgery on Wednesday the 4th. On Thursday, it took some major wandering (and LOTS of patience), only to have to wait a bit more for Scott to finally leave work early to sort out Violet's plane ticket.

The final outcome to this story is that we finally got our flights, our hotel and Scott's surgery all arranged by 3pm Thursday, cutting this really close to the 3:30pm end of office hours and a Friday and Monday closure of these offices.

Yes, it turned out alright in the end. But I am not an adrenaline junkie who needs the rush of success at the last minute. I'd much rather not go greyer than I have to and have a few more years on my life.

We're leaving together, But still it's farewell.. It's the final countdown

We have made it to December. We should be just concentrating on Christmas and decorations, but I'm finding it hard to psych myself up for Violet's first Christmas being that we have to break it all down within a matter of weeks to pack up for Thule/Pagosa Springs.

Since hearing the news of Scott's orders, I keep reminding myself that when he and I discussed the possibilities of what could happen in our first years of marriage, this was definitely a possible reality. And I also keep reminding myself that a year is not that long, especially when factoring in Scott's leave time, the visits to my parents' and the support I'll be getting from my sister and her network of mothers. And yet, the freaking out is starting to set in.

It's partially because we are now in the month before all of the crazy transitioning is going to happen. It's also partially because Scott and I got to see the house I'll be living in Pagosa Springs. And another part is due to the great progress we made over the weekend in clearing the garage from all of the random boxes from my move from TN, Scott's move from ND and our move from the first apartment he and I shared across town. We have whittled things down to very manageable groupings of "stuff" and I feel better prepared for the packing that will happen after the Christmas holidays (and after the short trip to KY to visit with Scott's family.)

But something else set me off this past weekend. The reality of a year apart. The realizations that things will be slightly (if not significantly) harder than I'm believing (pretending?) it to be. A day sidelined by hurt feelings, stewing about it and the eventual discussion and a so-so resolution. I'm still trying to get over it, but my own self-image problems (I'm still about 20-30 lbs away from where I'd like to be), in addition to me being mad at myself for being so ticked off by the origin of the hurt feelings. All in all, I'm starting to question my confidence.

I know I'm just allowing myself the freak out in the hopes that if I mostly get it out of my system now, I won't be crippled by it when things need to get done. People have asked if I'll be ok and I'd say, "sure, no problem" and a really good friend called me separately and gently asked again "are you sure", knowing that sometimes a PR line is not the whole truth. I said, "yes", and I still think I was telling the truth at the time. It's still mostly the truth now.


The the other part is that I'm starting to definitely freak the f-- out and letting the slightly small things get me down.

Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout

Since about Friday, we've been noticing some eye gunk that kept appearing in Violet's right eye that no matter how many wipes with a hot water washcloth we've been gently wiping it away with, it would return. I was already slightly concerned, but I finally decided to look up what it possibly could be on the internet - which I hate to do with anything medical with all of the unmonitored, crazy hypochondriacs out there posting worst case scenarios all the time. After cross referencing several sites I trust, I turned to Scott and suggested we make a visit to the base hospital. Because today is President's Day, we had to go to the Urgent Care, being that was the only part of the hospital really open. After a quick phone call to the UC, we started to get ourselves ready to see if little Violet had an eye infection.

I took the first shower and while I was finishing up, I quickly opened up my towel ... and a dime-sized spider popped out and I saw it shoot toward the corner of the bathroom. Thoroughly freaked out, I examined the rest of my towel just in case there was another arachnid surprise ... and found the small eggsack that Charlotte left behind. Sometime between my shower yesterday and today, that eight-legged creature decided it was time to nest. Now, I'm beyond the point of the heebie jeebies, but I had to get ready to go to Urgent Care, so I didn't have time to think about it.

If this happened anytime else, and if I didn't have more important things to think about, I would have just kept freaking out for the rest of the day. Gross.

Oh, and the doc confirmed it was conjunctivitis in Violet's eye, so we got some drops - so far, she's fairly easygoing with taking that medication.

Doctor, doctor, Gimme the news, I've got a bad case of loving you

Today was Violet's first doctor's visit and I'm relieved it was scheduled so soon. Violet and I have been having struggles getting her breastfeeding habits down and it's been difficult. I wasn't taking too much offense to how many nurses it took us to get her to feed while we were at the hospital over the weekend or how it was proving to be largely unsuccessful when we finally got home. I know, and have been told, how there is a big learning curve on both the mother and child's part in getting into a rhythm.

I was not going to be deterred. I knew I wanted to go this route even before countless people started spouting stacks of data to support breastfeeding. But I also knew that sometimes, it just doesn't happen and it means nothing other than having to take alternative actions to nourish the baby. I was not going to let the first few detours throw me off. But, after last night's long marathon of *(editor's note) no little result, I was getting very worried that Violet wasn't getting was she needed, hence the relief to have an appointment with a medical professional.

They were nothing but nice in checking her out and even allowed me to sit with an incredibly kind and patient nurse who actually SHOWED what Scott and I could do, rather than just wake me up in a mostly sleep deprived state to shove Violet around me and leave before I could really ask a proper question once my brain finally caught up with being awake and alert.

Last night's frustrations added to many, many people repeating, 'Don't take it personally; it's perfectly natural; it has no reflection on you' and the fact that everything on my body aches, from my toes to my head, I finally had my first Mommy Freak Out.

With everyone saying, 'Don't worry', 'Don't worry', it's basically like saying to someone: DO NOT THINK OF A PINK ELEPHANT. WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT THINK OF A PINK ELEPHANT. Well, guess what? I thought of the damn pink elephant. In fact, I ended up thinking about a whole herd and that herd stampeded over me with a large dose of hormonal-losing-it.

I was disappointed and a little worried before, but I was fine with the pediatrician telling me that we needed to supplement Baby Girl's breastfeeding with formula. And I already have a breast pump, so she will still get what my body produces for her and I was never under the thrall of the ideal and magical bond she and I will share with breastfeeding. I already knew if that wasn't going to happen, it's not the end all, be all in bonding. Where my 'fine' derailed is person after person telling me it's fine and don't worry and don't give up. I had no intention of doing any of those things until the chorus of those people's well intentioned encouragement did the opposite effect and completely spun me out.

It took me a little while to regroup and find my inner voice I was listening to before the freak out, but I found it, I resumed the doctor's orders and Violet and I (and Scott who had to talk me down from the ledge) continued on with our evening. We have another appointment tomorrow and we get to see the result of the first day's work.

It's just funny how I react to what people's go-to idea of what 'support' means.

All your life, You were only waiting for this moment to arise

My bag is packed. The car seat is strapped in and waiting. The room is set. Pretty much everything is good to go for Baby Girl's arrival. Now it's just a waiting game.

I've been forcing myself to keep calm, cool and collected, which I honestly thought would be a whole lot harder at this stage of the game. Scott's been really fantastic about not allowing me to overexert myself and takes care of stuff around the house. I spent a large part of the weekend sitting down a lot to stay off my feet to keep them from swelling into Hobbit-feet. And as I sit, Baby Girl would shift, shudder and occasionally hiccup while giving me small glimpses of what contractions feel like. I'm still in 'early labor' which basically means that I just have to be aware but not alarmed.

One of the ways I've been trying to lessen any possible stressers is avoiding my phone. So far, it's been working wonderfully. I already have a multi-tiered 'plan' of how I'll let people know when the action starts happening, and I figure if I can be patient, so can everyone else.

There's so much to be done, Count all the bees in the hive, Chase all the clouds from the sky, Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh

We're in the final weeks. At any time, I can start my contractions, my water can break and I can start my mad dash across town to the base hospital. For those who know my personality, you would think that I would be prepared. Wait, I mean OVER prepared. With the hospital-stay-bag already packed and ready by the door. The nursery completely set up and ready to receive baby girl's presence. Her outfit picked out for when we get to take her home. And yet...

None of those things are true. We do have her stroller/car seat, so we can at least take the baby home with us. The furniture, room decor, baby essentials (like burping clothes, onesies, pacifiers, diaper bag) have been selected, but it's still not a visible reality, but some of the key furniture pieces are on they way. Today I get to pick up the comfy rocking chair and ottoman from the store (thanks, Mom and Dad!), so I'm pretty excited to see that in our living room.

The house is not clean - it's still recovering from Christmas. I have yet to experience the 'nesting phase' and a small part of me was actually counting on it to help get my butt in gear with the cleaning and rearranging. Now it looks like I'll just have to force myself to be diligent and get it done. Looks like I just added that task to the weekend roster.

I don't have anything in the refrigerator prepared to just reheat or quickly throw together for the meals I won't have energy to cook after Little Girl comes. I have in mind a couple of recipes that would be frozen and reheated for future consumption, but still have to go shopping. Yet another project.

With the list still as long as it was several weeks ago, I would, could, should be freaking out. Normally, I would feel terribly overwhelmed, frustrated and defeated looking at all of the "To Do" and be really harsh on myself for not accomplishing any of it on my own, hindered by my dwindling energy level or the fact that my vision has gone wonky in the last month and a half. Why don't I feel this way?

I can only guess it is because I'm under the calm influence of Scott. He reassures me that all will be taken care of in time. Not in the scary last minutes. But safely and gently in time for Baby Girl to come make her home in our Pooh Corner. There were days that I let the weight of the tasks crush my spirit, but all he has to do is give me a hug and some soothing words and that does some wonderful magic on my psyche. It's really amazing and baffling at the same time. But it works and I no longer feel like I'm losing my mind, so I will not argue the result.

So rather than concentrating my energy in making myself crazy with all that has to be done, I am channeling my thoughts to preparing a calm, fun and loving home. I know there are things to be done and I will take care of what I can, as soon as I can, and whatever I can't handle will be taken care of by God with Scott as his conduit.

And with that peace, the first order of business for the day is to find a place to hang this plaque my parents gave me for Christmas:

She's actual size, But she seems much bigger to me

I'm in my 34th week of pregnancy, and up until now, it has been a wonderfully easy pregnancy, from what I understand with talking to other women who have gone through the experience. I have yet to go through any hint of the morning sickness some women go through and the only true complaint I have so far is that I'm incredibly tired, either from insomnia or just my body working hard to support the little one. But being unemployed gave me the freedom to nap whenever I wanted. And I've been able to keep most of my hormonal emotions in check, no irrational mood swings, and 'pregnant brain' hasn't really affected me too badly. And even now that Baby Girl is started to fight against the restraints of such tight quarters which results in mild to HOLY-CRAP discomfort, it usually passes fairly quickly, and I can't really blame her - I wouldn't want to be smushed like that either.

The problem I've been dealing with in the last month or so, is fighting the urge to break out into tears because I feel like a big, honking zeppelin. Intellectually, I knew that my size would change and all of these changes are part of the beautiful process of creating life. Well, that's all nice and good for a greeting card, but hearing the unsympathetic words of the OB doctor whom I've seen the last two appointments just makes me feel swollen like a blob, not with the joy of a soon to be motherhood (especially when his words are, "You've gained 10 pounds in the last month; what happened there?" Insensitive mofo.)

The swollen feet and ankles don't bother me (actually, it's really quite amusing to me to see the change in sizes from day to day) as much as just catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror or trying to kneel or put on socks. It is then when I realize that all of the weight I have been putting on is preventing me from feeling anywhere near normal. And being a petite person, going from 125 to 180 in a year is hella scary.

I know that there is a significant portion of the weight that will be taken care of once I give birth and the fact that I plan to breastfeed also will help matters. But after the childbirth, I wanted to start putting together the wedding celebration plans that Scott and I never got to elaborate on in July. The thought of trying to find a wedding dress in my current state of mass just makes me think of Kirby in a off-white frock (Nintendo fans, anyone?)

My loving husband has been exceedingly supportive and soothing to my insecurities. He's a saint for doing so. And for the few I've spoken to about this specific dent to my self image, they have also been nice and understanding. I try to take their words as more than sweet words of reassurance. But it's hard to fight the scale and the reflection in the mirror.