My Current Book Lusts... Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

Most of my friends who are going to have kids, already have at least one, but there are a few stragglers out there who might benefit from my unfettered addiction to buying books pertaining to whatever topic I happen to be currently passionate about, which right now is of course baby related. Oh, and baking, but that's another post. So, here are my Top 10 Baby Books that pretty much cover the range of everything you need to know (and then some) about what you've really gotten yourself into. Good luck!


If You Only Buy One Pregnancy/Baby Book: "Pregnancy, Childbirth and the Newborn- the Complete Guide" by Penny Simkin, Janet Whalley and Ann Keppler. Very comprehensive and accessible book that's not full of fear mongering and tells you everything you need to know without needlessly freaking you out. Unlike "What to Expect When You're Expecting" which is condescending and full of info that will cause many pending Moms to lose much needed sleep and bombard their health care providers with panic-induced questions and phone calls. My friends who are OB/GYNs have asked me to ask you to not read that book.  Or to take any advice from strangers on an on-line forum or phone app. Thank you.

If You Are Lazy and/or Buying a Baby Book for the Dad: "Baby 411" by Denise Fields and Ari Brown, M.D. This was given to us by my husband's cousin who is a new mom and an OB/GYN. Great quick reference guide, easy read, great question and answer format. Good guy book, only thing that would make it better is if it had cartoons and was scented with bacon.

If You Have Any Concerns About Your Relationship With Your Partner Post Baby: "And Baby Makes Three" by John M. Gottman and Julie Schwartz Gottman. A comprehensive strategy for making sure you stay connected with your partner and how to rekindle romance post baby arrival. I've worked with the Gottman's and have been a fan of their science-based approach to relationships and communication for years. There is a course offered by many hospitals called Bringing Baby Home based on this book. Also a valuable tool. They say 65% of couples experience serious decline in their marital happiness once the baby is born, this book will help you to be prepared in case that's you.

If You Have No Concerns About Your Relationship With Your Partner Post Baby: You should still read "And Baby Makes Three" because you never know and it's best to have these tools to use just in case. I feel we've been in the 35% of still happy couples (that's largely due to luck and having a baby who eats, sleeps, and poops without too much of a mess, screaming fit, or health problems), but the info in this book is still very helpful and has done a lot to keep us sane and happy and talking to each other without clenched jaws or wanting to chuck a dirty diaper at their head.

If You Have (or Need) a Sense of Humor About It All: "The Three-Martini Playdate- A Practial Guide to Happy Parenting" by Christie Mellor. While much should be taken very tongue-in-cheek, (such as "Our Little Tot's First Martini Recipe"), most of it is really a much needed rational breath of fresh air (such as "a child who has never been given chores to do is a child who grows up with a skewed sense of entitlement.). See also her follow up hit- "The Three-Martini Family Vacation: A Field Guide to Intrepid Parenting."

If You Are Already Placing Bottles of Purelle Around the House and Locks on Toilet Lids in Your First Trimester: "How to Have Your Second Child First- 100 Things That Are Good to Know... the First Time Around" by Kerry Colburn & Rob Sorensen. Sit down, have a glass of wine (Gasp! Yes, really, you can do it while pregnant), and read this book with your partner. It's hard to pick a favorite tip... from "you don't have to interact with your baby ALL of the time" to "let your partner do it their way" this book is full of good advice and good reminders for all parents, high strung and not. If you are already making spread sheets and think a baby helmet is a good idea for general around-the-house attire, you should be required by law to read this. For your child's well-being as well as your own and that of everyone around you.

If You Will Be Having a Baby, Ever, and Have Boobs: "Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding" by Ina May Gaskin. I actually haven't read this book, but it has been highly recommended by many friends who have struggled with issues with breastfeeding, I just went directly to a lactation consultant as I was too tired to read a book when I started having problems on day 11. I can't say enough good things about breastfeeding, even after dealing with "rug burned nipples" and latch problems, it's hands down the most special time I spend with my daughter. Oh, and just so you know, even if you don't breastfeed, the term "perky" will still never describe your boobs again without surgery. The good news is no one but you and your husband will know, and after not being allowed near them for awhile he won't care, he'll just be happy to have access again. Good excuse to buy that La Perla bra you've always wanted!

If You Are Not Obnoxiously Rich: "Baby Bargains" is for you. By the same people who do "Baby 411" (also "Expecting 411" and "Toddler 411"), I believe they have a guarantee to save you at least $250 or your money back. Full of very useful advice on what you really need, and what is just preying on new parents fears crap (hint: a wipe warmer is something every child can survive just fine without). Start with this book and by chucking the Baby's R Us "must have" registry list and you'll be good to go.

If You Won't be Having a Full Time Nanny: "Happiest Baby on the Block" by Dr. Harvey Karp. The "Five S's" on how to soothe a crying baby saved our sanity during the first few months. It's worth it just for that. There is also a DVD if you're all read out. Great for Dad to watch, will help him feel so much more empowered to deal with their tiny crying offspring. Men really like to be able to "fix" things, and this book/DVD helps them do that.

If You Have No Idea What to Do With Your Baby Aside From Singing Obnoxious Songs and Dressing Them in Cute Things: "Baby Smarts" by Jackie Silberg. A short little book with easy references to let you know what physical and cognitive skills your child is developing and what you can do to encourage them. It's really quite facinating to see how they figure stuff out when you know what to look for. Also helps you to be less anxious and frustrated with a cranky or crying baby when you know they're just working hard at figuring something out, and not colic or just being a general, undiagnosed pain in the ass.

BONUS: If You're a Science Nerd Like Me and/or Think It's Never to Early to Start Prepping for Harvard: "Brain Rules For Baby" by Dr. John Medina. It's a very interesting read on how a baby's brain develops and what their cognitive skills are like at each age. A good read, not too dry or scientific as to be inaccessible for weary parents to be. Amusing stories illustrate various developmental steps and keep it entertaining... my 92 year old Grandfather picked it up to read while he was visiting and enjoyed it when he wasn't watching Jeopardy.

A Horse is a Horse, Of Course.

I think a lot of us wondered what it would be like to be a parent. I know I sure did, especially during the times when I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be one. How could I be sure that it would be worth it? There’s no legal/socially acceptable way to back out of it if it doesn’t work out for you. Now that I am a parent, I think I’ve figured out a way to describe it and maybe help those without kids to understand what all the hoopla is about.

If you’ve been lucky, you may have had a pet or an encounter with an animal that you were able to form a special bond with. I’m not talking guinea pig or garter snake found in the yard here. Something a bit higher on the IQ scale. Perhaps it was a pet dog that you raised from a puppy, or a wild deer that you got to eat out of your hand. For me it was a horse named Turk.

I was working on a film that was shooting on a small suburban farm one day. There were two horses in a barn next to where we were filming that needed to be calmed down as they were freaking out. One was an ancient, sway backed nag, the other a young and antsy stallion. I was dubbed horse wrangler for the day after getting the nag to calm down by stroking and talking to her. One of the farm hands showed up and took over for her so I moved over to Turk. He was a bit high strung and mouthy. Not to mention big. I have a bit of experience around horses, but was not by any means comfortable around unknown energetic animals who liked to nibble on you. Yet for some reason, Turk and I clicked.

Turk stood in his stall with his head out as he and the nag had to be able to see each other in order to stay calm. I stood in front facing him with his head over my shoulder, stroking his neck and scratching his ears for several hours. Not often do you get the chance to just be a source of comfort for an animal like that without asking anything in return. No grooming, no saddling, no riding. Just talking, stroking, soothing.

At one point my arms got tired and someone needed to talk to me so I turned around, with Turk’s head still over my shoulder. He apparently got miffed that I’d stopped paying attention to him and nipped my shoulder. I promptly turned around and grabbed his bottom lip and let him know in no uncertain terms that was not OK. I then turned back to continue my conversation. He started nuzzling my shoulder, kind of hard, almost but not quite nibbling. It actually felt pretty good as my shoulders were sore from holding my arms over my head for the last several hours. Jokingly, I leaned into it and told him that felt good, and then I pointed to my other shoulder and asked if he could get that side as well. Amazingly enough, he did! Where ever I pointed to, he would nuzzle/nibble/massage! The person I was talking to when this happened couldn’t believe it! What an unexpected way to be repaid for all the stroking and scratching I’d been doing for him.

At one point I had to leave to run some errands and wasn’t expecting to make it back by the time we wrapped, and since it was the last day there I wouldn’t see Turk anymore, which made me rather sad. Well, as luck would have it I was needed back on set so I cut my errands short and returned. One of the reasons they needed me back was because Turk was being feisty and wouldn’t calm down for anyone else. They said he got upset as soon as I left and calmed down as soon as he saw me again. He was whinnying as I approached and started nuzzling me as I scratched his ears. I was so touched, everyone likes to feel needed, even if it was by a horse I’d just met.

Making a connection with an animal like that, one that is intelligent and capable of showing affection and had a distinct personality, was an amazing and awesome feeling. To be needed by another creature for comfort and affection in a way that no one else seemed able to give, it’s a lot like what it feels like to be a mom. My daughter is this little creature who is still a mystery to me in many ways because of how much she is changing every day. While she is great with other people and is a pretty calm and mellow baby the vast majority of the time, sometimes she is just fussy or upset, and it seems I’m the only one who can calm her. When she nuzzles into my neck as I rock her to sleep, it makes my day because I know I am the only person on earth who can fulfill her specific needs at that moment, and I'm doing it well! Don’t get me wrong, her Dad is fantastic and will no doubt fulfill needs that I can’t as she gets older and has more of them (like indulge her "need" for a Porsche or her "need" to go camping with her boyfriend). But for now, when I go to pick her up and her face lights up and her arms and legs go crazy waving around and her cries stop immediately, I know that it’s me, and no other, who can calm and comfort her best right now. That equally awesome feeling and responsibility is what makes everything else, the erratic sleep, the body changes, the loss of some personal freedom, even the disgusting diaper explosions… so very worth it.  

My Magnificent Mommy Mound

Yup, that's all me. Well, me and Spawn.

"Magnificent Mommy Mound..." that's what my husband refers to my growing belly. I think it's rather sweet. Better than "great with child" most definitely!

This photo is from a maternity shoot we did this last weekend with me at 38 weeks and ready to go at any moment. They say that by now she's running out of room and should be slowing down in movements... ha! They also say pregnancy is wonderful and a blessing and those are not the first words that have come to mind when describing this bizarre, messy, uncomfortable, exhausting and at times overwhelming process. Her movements now are even more extreme and a lesson in physics... "For every action there's an equal and opposite reaction" meaning when she's kicking in my rib area, that means she's also being propelled downward to head butt my cervix, which really hurts! Takes my mind off my ribs being kicked though, which isn't exactly like petting a baby bunny.

Anyway, back to photos... we've only got a sneak peak at them with the one above and this one...

 

which I also love. Not bad for a guy who has never done a maternity photo shoot before and spends most of his time photographing Ultimate Fighting bouts. He shot our wedding (click on the right to advance, the first batch are us) and we loved working with him and he with us so he was nice enough to experiment with this project. I can't wait to see the rest of them!

Every once in awhile I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and still have a hard time believing that giant belly belongs to me! I've only put on 20lbs total, but luckily it seems to be mostly in front. I've even woken up, tried to turn over and been like "Oh wow, is that STILL there?!!?" Seems like a difficult thing to forget I know, but since it's constantly changing there's always something new to get used to.

So, the bags are mostly packed, the iPod is updated and play lists made, the random baby stuff is assembled and ready to go... and hopefully so are we! Or at least as ready as a bag full of camera gear, massage oils, nursing bras, newborn clothes, and meditating music can make us.

Sausage, Unicorns and Childbirth, Oh My!

So, I think I'm going to be OK with the nitty gritty details of childbirth. Pain, while not a fan, the idea of it isn't freaking me out. Various people interacting with my bajanga for potentially many hours, OK, we're all adults here, do what you gotta do. Bodily fluids, waiting, exhaustion, frustration, false starts, painful endings... I'm trying to brace myself as much as is possible by someone who has never experienced such a thing.

One thing I'm a little paranoid about is the aftermath (and I'm not talking about our daughter here) and my husband seeing this and being scared away forever. Now he has no such worries, he's been trained as an EMT and stuff like that just doesn't bother him. It's just my issue I've focused on for some reason. A quote from Stewie on Family Guy about throwing a hot dog down a hallway comes to mind every time I think about it. Yeah, I've read all the stuff that says six weeks later things will be good as new(ish), but I've also seen several natural birthing videos where women aren't screaming and swearing like sailors as a giant baby emerges from an impossibly small opening and I don't really believe that either.

I'm OK with him watching the crowning, but after that it's eyes up here! It's like that saying about sausage... you may love sausage, but do you really want to see where it comes from? It might forever change the experience for you. Could you go the rest of your life without sausage? Would you still enjoy it the same? I dunno...

Anyway... I believe this little paranoia of mine is what inspired this dream the other night. There's no context aside from me seeing a black chalkboard with white writing on it. I have the impression that I was trying to come up with a t-shirt or bumper sticker slogan. All it says is "Watching your child being born is like looking up a unicorn's ass to see where the magic comes from." Then I woke up.

Make of it what you will, but if it's t-shirts or bumper stickers, I get one and a share of the proceeds!

(By the way, I seriously love Google Images. I typed in "unicorn, ass" and that's what came up. Perfect!)

Bra Shopping In A Virtual (y Crazy) World

Caveat Lector (Let the reader beware, it's another blog post about boobs, but no graphic details).

So the time is fast approaching when I may have to leave behind the more attractive, lacy, sexy bras for, how shall I say, ones that serve a purpose other than keeping me fit for being out in public while at a brisk jog or on a chilly day without causing a spectacle or neck strain. I refuse to use the word "utilitarian," but more multi-functional might be a good term for it. Like a Swiss Army knife bra, but without the handy screwdrivers.

So, I searched for "bra size calculator" to see what I might be in store for now. The first one, found at the site of someone who calls herself the "Bra Lady" tells me I'm a 32G!!! What the hell?!!? There is no way that's accurate. 32 rib cage, 39 bust... http://www.lindasonline.com/bra-fitting-calculator.html That's just insane! I could fit my daughter in the cups of that bra and use it as a sling.

So, to keep searching... this site says 36D, which is what I bought most recently and seems to fit well. http://www.85b.org/bra_calc.php OK then, I'm not crazy and my drawer that has 34-36D bras that seem to fit is not a figment of my imagination.

This site says 38B, which is just weird. http://www.afraidtoask.com/breast/brasizeform1.html

This one is 38A, which is even more bizarre. http://www.balicompany.com/fitcalculator.bra.asp Everyone knows an A cup is... rather petite, and that is most definitely not me, and hasn't been for a LOOOONG time.

36C  http://www.bellissimalingerie.com/catalogue/brasize.asp Closer to the truth.

36E http://www.birthandbabyorders.com/shop/categories/1053 (I think, the app doesn't load properly, so I had to do the math the old fashioned way... on my iPhone) Again, I could stop carrying a purse and just stuff my wallet, phone, and Swiss Champ XLT knife into it (never leave home without it!).

Seriously... how is it possible there is such a wide difference between all these? Is it vanity sizing? Can manufactures not figure out if we want to have a smaller or larger bra size? This isn't rocket science or quantum physics. Seems more like string theory. I get that every woman is different, and according to one site, every boob is different, even on the same woman. So are feet, but my shoe size only varies a bit... from 6 to at the most a 7.5. The web sites conveniently say that "most women are wearing the wrong bra size..." well, no duh! When there's such a huge variation in sizing, it's no wonder! Who's fault is that?

I don't want to be one of those women wearing the "wrong" sized bra and looking like I've either got four (due to unfortunate oozing) or one giant mono boob. Or perhaps worse, become that substitute teacher character from South Park in 20 years due to serious lack of proper support. Help!!!!

Luckily, I found this website for maternity wear and nursing bras. Not a bad name for it, Hot Milk? Pretty stuff, doesn't look like the ugly industrial strength over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders you find elsewhere. Although someone should tell the stylist that crimping irons when the way of McHammer pants...oh wait. I heard those were back in "style" too. Ugh.

Anyway... no on line bra shopping for me unless I've tried it on in the store first and know the brand's sizing. I just wish the manufacturers would get their act together... I don't care what the size says on the inside of my bra, I just want it to lift and separate and support and work for nursing and help me get out of speeding tickets. Is that really too much to ask?

Lucky, Lucky Me

I have been bitching about a lot of things on this blog and I wanted to switch things up for a bit and rave about how lucky and extraordinarily blessed I am to have the husband I have. Especially now, at my most vulnerable, awkward, irritable, and (potentially for some men) the most unattractive phase of my life, he is a serious daddy-to-be-stud.

When I read blogs and books from other women talking about their experiences being pregnant, I am often horrified by the way the men in their lives treat them. One got offended and accused his wife of farting on purpose around him (when you have a little spawn sitting on your digestive tract and randomly kicking it, this is truly not something you can always have a lot of control over). Mine just laughs and blames the dog, regardless of what other room he may be in. Many are completely helpless (and unwilling to try) when it came to anything related to food preparation that didn't involve first picking up a phone. Mine is a better cook than I am. Some gave them a hard time for breast feeding as they didn't want to "share" what they felt was theirs. Others were grossed out by the entire ordeal, refused to learn anything about it, and left the details and all up to her. Mine was trained as an EMT, has no weird body issues, and may in fact be more comfortable with the birthing process than I am (which might be easier to do since he's not expected to squeeze an 8lb parasite out of his penis any time soon).

Wow. Of course, I highly doubt that the rest of their relationships were a bed of roses, but it seems that pregnancy brought out the worst in them. I think my pregnancy has brought out the best in mine. He is even more considerate and patient than usual (though isn't afraid to laugh at me when I struggle to bend over and pick something up), very empathetic when I need to vent about my various aches and symptoms (with foot rubs virtually on demand), supportive in reading the books I suggest (well, he's working on that part), attending the classes I've signed us up for, and is constantly worshiping my belly and telling me how beautiful and sexy he thinks I am. He's indulged me in my furniture refinishing ideas, nursery preferences, and ranting about bad parenting stories I read about with nary an eye roll or sarcastic comment. I'd like to think that my lack of dramatic mood-swings/freak outs and 2:00am cravings for mango chutney and doughnuts that he MUST GO GET NOW OR DIE because YOU DID THIS TO ME YOU ASS, AGHHHH!!! might have made his job easier... but even if I'd turned into ranting psycho pregnant chick (I still have 9 weeks!) I think he'd still take it all in stride.

Oh, and don't get the idea that he's a doormat. Not at all. If I suggested we should seriously look into baby helmets, bubble wrapping the furniture, spraying down all potential guests with Lysol, or some other such whack-a-doo idea, he'd speak up in a hurry. He's just good at picking his battles and (seemingly) believes that I'll wind up in the moderate center on my own once I back away from the web for awhile.

While part of me would like him to be a little more freaked out about this life-changing project we're taking on like I am, most of me cherishes how grounded and unflappable he is as it makes a good anchor for me to cling to after reading another article about the "792 Things In Your House That Could Kill or Seriously Maim Your Child In Under Two Minutes, While You Sleep!"

If he's half as good of a father as he's been a husband through out this process (and I know that won't be the case!), then our daughter will be one lucky girl too. Lucky, lucky both of us.

My Lovely Lady Lumps

My Eyes Are Up HERE!!!

 I have had an unusual relationship with my breasts. We've run the gamut, them and I, in a way I think most of my friends haven't. (Dad, if you haven't already, you might want to stop reading now. None of this is top secret stuff, no surgeries, tattoos, or piercings but really, how much do you want to know about your daughter's boobs?)

When I was about 13, I started getting a little concerned. My best friend was all ready well endowed in 7th grade, and I had (of course) nothing. Not unusual for a 13 year old white girl. However, my Mother told me many times that I shouldn't expect to get breasts until (if ever) I got pregnant, as that's what happened to her. So, I was resigned to being flat chested... although that didn't stop me from experimenting with stuffing my bra, duct tape, and the miracles that a Wonder Bra could provide. I gave up on the stuffing quickly though when, after carefully placing two cotton balls in each cup of my training bra before a co-ed dance in 7th grade, a boy I was dancing with gave me an "accidental" boob graze and I was positive he could tell what I'd done. Yeah, right, because 13 year old boys have so much experience with that type of thing. For all I know, he still thinks back fondly to the first time he "copped a feel." Ha!

I turned 16, still nothing much. I had nick-named them (ironically it turns out) Itsy and Bitsy. My best friend was now a D+, and a couple others were gaining fast. We joked about getting a transfusion after graduation so that we'd wind up somewhere that would make us both happy. We were only half joking.

I moved to Seattle and TA-DA! The boob fairy came! Yea! She wasn't especially generous, but at least it was something. I went down and visited friends in LA at age 17 and at least got guys to talk to my chest instead of my eyes for a change, so that was nice. I wound up with a 34B and was pretty happy with things. Still passed the pencil test, found bras in regular stores that fit, had cleavage, and could get away with wearing something backless without a bra. I liked my breasts, they were the perfect size for my frame. Not to brag, but  in my late 20s I dated a guy who, how do I put this, had worked with many lovely women who were often semi/mostly nude for professional reasons, and he told me quite honestly and without provocation that I had the best rack he'd ever seen. I thought that was quite the compliment!

Then, the Boob Fairy came again. And again. And again. Between the ages of 31-35, I went up two cup sizes. I'd also put on about 20lbs, but it seemed most of that was on my chest! So now, button up shirts wouldn't stay buttoned up and were in danger of sending a button flying off into someone's eye, bras were a requirement, men (and even some women) were much more easily distracted around me, excavating was required when laying face down at the beach, an exercise class without a sports bra was a painful, distracting, and nearly revealing mistake, and I was now the girl among my friends who had big boobs! How the hell did that happen?!!? I really just couldn't see that for quite awhile, I was still so caught up with my image of Itsy and Bitsy and just being thankful of my 34B... but 34D?!!? That's crazy talk! There must be a mistake, like how a size 6 is the new size 2. It's vanity bra sizing, right? Alas, no.

The thing is, I never wanted to have big boobs. I saw how my friends with big chests were treated by others, and how they saw themselves as a result. We couldn't shop at the same stores, because tops for teens weren't made to stretch that far. Adult men treated them like adults because all they saw were adult sized boobs and their eyes never made it that far north to see that they were still kids. The beach was a hassle, between bathing suit fiascos, excavating to lie down, and more unwanted attention. Their boyfriends were often obsessed with them to an annoying degree. They had unhealthy self-images and unhealthy relationships with men as a result. I was just fine with my second letter of the alphabet, thankyouverymuch.

So, now I'm pregnant, and here we go again. The Boob Fairy has earned enough frequent flier miles coming to our house to get her a trip to Europe, first class. And the fun is just starting! They say you can go up as much as TWO additional cup sizes once your milk comes in. I think I might refuse to admit to being an E (if things go that far) and just refer to it as DDD. I know things will go back down again (hopefully!!), and I might even be back to a 34B again, but it won't be the same. I do plan on breastfeeding, 6+ months, and that just takes a toll on things. As a trade off though, I will hopefully have a happier, healthier baby and have shared an amazing bonding experience with her in the mean time. I suppose failing the pencil test will be worth that. (Sigh) If I can keep my chest point average above a 2.0/C, I'll be content.

Itsy and Bitsy my ass.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

If I could take a brief break here from my usual sarcastic, dark humor, I wanted to talk about something serious. Regularly scheduled programming will resume soon.

Recently, right before the holidays, a friend of mine had tragedy strike. Her step-mother was 2 weeks from full term and one day wasn't feeling her baby daughter move any more. A quick trip to the hospital revealed that the baby had passed, and was delivered still-born.

My friend was reluctant to tell me this news, not wanting to upset me given my current condition. While I appreciate her consideration, I'm glad she did. Not only so I can offer her condolences and sympathize, but because it has made me appreciate every kick, jab, and wriggle that much more. It hasn't gotten painful yet, but when she starts in on my ribs or various organs, I'll grin and bear it that much easier just being glad that she's moving around in the first place.

It also inspired a conversation with my husband about what we'd do if something like that were to happen to us. I've read about an organization (that hopefully you, or I, or anyone we know will never have to use) that has photographers who volunteer to take photos of stillborn babies for the family to remember them by. If you need a good cry or are feeling too optimistic today, you can visit their site here: Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. I would want this. I would always have the option to not look at the photos, but never to take them again.

She wasn't sure if it would be "OK" to tell other pregnant women about what happened. I told her I think it depends on the woman. I appreciated knowing, but wish that they knew WHY it happened. Knowing why gives us a feeling of empowerment over the situation, however realistic it may or may not be. A close friend recently lost his three month old nephew to SIDS. Tragic, certainly. However, it sounds like the baby was put down in his parents bed (for various reasons), not his crib, and the extra bedding and softer mattress may have been a factor. Even if it wasn't, at least we can say "We'll never do THAT!" and feel better about our chances of avoiding a similar fate.

I had a friend (Tyler) in high school die from sleep apnea, which some think is just a more adult version of SIDS. One day he was here, the next he wasn't. If there was ever perfect timing for something that tragic to happen, he had it. The day before my Drama class (of which he was a part of) had a day long field trip to a local school to teach improv and perform. We were all good friends and several of us were especially close with Ty. I (after this sudden and unexplainable urge) had brought my camera and documented the day, including lunch at Crossroads Mall afterward. I seem to remember we then wound up at someone's house and watched movies and played pool. It was a great day spent with a bunch of great friends. Any other day would have been just another school day or weekend where we wouldn't have spent nearly as much time together, or had as many reasons to take photos. The next day, he was gone.

That was a rough way to deal with mortality at 17, and there was nothing and no one to be mad at. No drunk driver, no cautionary tale about drugs. Just... sleeping. However, in retrospect, there were some warning signs, mainly that he snored like a truck driver and when teased asked "have you ever woken up and realized that you haven't been breathing for awhile?" Yikes! We certainly wished we'd taken that more seriously, but what teen thinks they're that vulnerable, especially in regards to... terminal snoring?

So since then I've encouraged, nagged, begged and frightened several friends and family members (and even some total strangers) to go get tested. Several of them either had surgery and/or sleep with a machine now, and it's transformed and even possibly saved their lives. That's the silver lining I take out of all of this. So, here's my PSA... put your babies to sleep on their backs on an approved crib mattress, with no pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, bumpers or other things that can get near their faces, and if you know someone who snores like an angry, drunk bear, and/or stops breathing while sleeping or wakes up coughing/choking... they need to be checked. Their friends and loved ones will thank them, and so will Tyler and my friends' nephew and sister.

Peace and love to you all. ~S

It's Alive (& Kicking)!

So I've been feeling the baby move for quite awhile now, starting around 13 weeks I think (going on 23 now). The other day she got hiccups (or was beating out a rhythm on my organs), which was kinda weird and funny.

Today while sitting at the computer I had one hand on my belly and felt her kick especially hard and saw my hand move in my perephial vision so I pulled up my top and this time I SAW her kick... or at least the bulging of my stomach in reaction to it. Super cool, but also kinda creepy. Another "is this pregnancy or a scene from Aliens" moment. This has been a owner occcupied only body for 35 years, it's kinda weird to have another being sharing it with me now.

We're headed to Barra de Navidad Mexico Wednesday through the weekend for a babymoon/birthday party. Will be nice to catch up on some of the sun I missed while stuck on the couch this summer being sick. Haven't spent much time there since I a) grew up in southern California which is not hugely different in parts from Mexico, and b) can't stand most Mexican food. I'm glad that I have the excuse of being pregnant to be picky about food at least, otherwise I'd be eating a heck of a lot of quesadillas!

Met with a couple of doulas today. I like the idea of having someone who is there just to take care of me (and Brooke) while the midwife is focused more on the baby. She'd be here at the house with us when labor begins all the way through the whole ordeal helping to keep me focused, calm, and as pain free as possible (hah!). One can always hope.

I am totally full from an awesome seared ahi tuna wasabi salad... but I can't stop thinking about the giant ripe pomegranates down in the kitchen. Mmmmmm....

Congratulations! It's a.... Freak!

How about breast feeding this one?!!?

So, we had our second trimester ultrasound on November 1st, and aside from checking the regular stuff (heart, lung, size, weight development), we also got to check out Spawn's junk... or in our case, the lack thereof. If you can't tell by the demon baby all dressed in pink in the photo, it turns out Spawn is a girl! It's funny, we were hoping for a boy, but both felt that it was a girl. Bring on the pink... ugh.

We were hoping for a boy because we both find that boy type toys are more fun to play with, however I had "boy" type toys growing up, so perhaps that will work for our daughter too. No Barbie dolls for me, I preferred my microscope, erector set, Leggos and climbing trees. I did however like to play dress up and "make over" (not hard to believe for everyone who's ever met me I suppose) so I wasn't a total tomboy. One of the neighbor girls I used to practice on was in Playboy (the brunette), which I take total credit for, even if the last time I saw her she was six and we had to use tennis balls to fill out her bathing suit.

I also HATE the color pink. I hate the image it represents, a girly girl, all demure and subservient, princess like and helpless, just sitting around doing her nails and hair and waiting for a man to come and rescue her from herself. A girl who wears pink wouldn't be thought to know how to change her own tire or carry a Swiss Army knife or know how to use a compound miter saw. I know this is just a stereotype, but images can have power, and how we present ourselves to others colors their perception of us and how they treat us, and in return how we think of ourselves.

Why does it seem that most baby related stuff is either pink or blue? I mean everything... from bottles, to pads you kneel on by the tub to bathe them, to bedding, even little tickers you can post on your website to do a countdown to "Eviction Day" are themed either blue or pink with icons of teddy bears, balloons, flowers or a Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 cal magnum revolver (ha! Kidding about the last one... I hope). What's wrong with earth tones?!!? Is it really so important to impose a rigid gender identity on your child before it's even born?

I have found more neutral toned baby items than I thought I would. I was afraid I'd be relegated to either pink/blue pastels or neon bright primary colors unless we shopped in expensive European stores. Even BabiesRUs had some things that didn't make me cringe at the thought of having in my home (of course I'm not talking about the children who were running amok through the store like it was a Chuck E Cheese during free double shot espresso hour). I actually rather like this Zen collection and hope it's not crap that just looks good.

So, now I have to get used to the idea of having a girl. I hear they're easier on the house and such in the beginning at least, but of course make up for that when they're teens. I was a rather stubborn pain in the ass as a kid, but at least I didn't do drugs or drink (much) or get tattoos or the like. Brooke, of course, was an angel and left all the rebelling to his older brother. We'll see who our daughter turns out more like. She'll still grow up knowing some basic car maintenance, how to use power tools, get chocolate out of a cashmere sweater, the proper way to address a thank-you card, ballroom dancing, and basic self defense moves.

I don't really get people who don't want to know the gender. Especially first time ones. I figure that parenthood provides enough surprises that we'll take all the advantages we can get! Besides, it makes it a lot easier to bond with the kick-boxer in my belly... I see other little girls and imagine my own, I can picture her in neat little dresses and start putting her nursery together in a slightly more girly fashion, as in French influence over Italian if it was a boy. I've already started collecting hats. :-)

By the way, no, we haven't decided on a name. Most likely Dee for the middle name, that's my middle name and my paternal Grandfather's middle name, whom I've never met as he died before I was born. Other than that... I like names that are flexible and not a pain in the ass to spell. Like Elizabeth... she can decide she's a Beth, or Lizzie, or Liz, or Liza when she gets older. I really dislike names like Jessyca or Sandi (not just because that last one is my ex MIL's name) because no one will ever spell it right, she'll never find her name on a hat at Disneyland or license plate for her bike, and I think it's just plain mean to brand your child with a name that says "I'm trying to be unique by spelling my name like a stripper would, but really I'm just a high-maintenance pain in the ass with unimaginative parents." Take this with several grains of salt, as I am aware that I have several friends with uniquely spelled names, and/or possibly children with the same affliction. I'm just really bad at remembering names and weird ones really throw me off, so this is how I've reasoned it's their fault and not mine. :-)

Oh, and the final bit of ultrasound news is that she apparently has not suffered from my lack of proper nutrition during the first few months, as she's in the 100th percentile for size right now. Average for this point is 12.5 ounces, and she's 16! That's only about a week ahead in growth, but still, not on track for a baby with a small head we were hoping for. Means we get another ultrasound in the third trimester to make sure she'll fit out the way nature intended, preferably without splitting me in two in the process. So far it's baby 2, us zero. I suppose we should get used to that!

One final serious note... her arms are a teeny, tiny bit short. Per whatever scale they use, normal is .90 and she's .88. Nothing to worry about or warrant further testing, but could possibly be an indicator of Down's. The odds are 1 in about 5,000, and nothing else (blood tests, heart, neck measurements, leg length, etc) indicates a problem. An amniocentesis would give us more info, but then the odds are 1 in 100 of miscarrying (a likely healthy baby) from it. Not worth the odds. So, for now we'll cross our fingers and hope it's just a weird mix of my Scottish/Irish genes and Brooke's Scandinavian ones. Hopefully she's got my Hodge chin and thick skull and Brooke's pretty jade green eyes to go along with her stumpy arms. Brooke has suggested changing her nick name from Spawn to T-Rex, but I told him that's totally inappropriate. T-Rex is a boy's name. Maybe we'll call her She-Rex instead. A bit nicer than "Stumpy," don't you think?

I Do Have a Filter, Really!

Just so you know, there really are some things that are too personal for me to share on here. Something happened the other day that was just so weird, funny, bizarre that I really did want to blog about it, but it was also rather personal and you wouldn't be able to look at me the same way again if I told you. So now you're just going to have to wonder... and I promise you, whatever you come up with won't be nearly as bizarre (and funny) as the truth.

Ahhh! I've Sprung a Leak!

File this post under the heading of "More Things They Don't Tell You About Being Pregnant, For Good Reason." For those of you squeamish about bodily things, or closely related to me, and/or a man, this will DEFINITELY be TMI for you. Escape now while you can.

3...2...1...

It turns out that when you're pregnant, you can and probably will spring a leak from pretty much every orifice possible, and even some that you didn't think were possible. I'll start at the top, and so that you can I can still make eye contact if and when we see each other again, I'll do my best to keep the details to a minimum.

Eyes, Crying- Yeah, this one isn't a shocker. Pregnant woman crying?!!? No! I've found that I'll get more teared up than usual at sappy things, or tragic news about a child, but so far no out and out sobbing sessions. Operative words being "so far." We'll see. I'm really hoping this is kept to a minimum, NOT a fan of hysterics. Yeah, I'm gonna LOVE having a toddler!

Nose, Running- You'd think it was training for a marathon. It runs ALL THE TIME. Part of nature's grand plan to keep pregnant women from getting sick is to constantly flush ALL the mucus membranes (Ladies, you know where this is going, and it's not good). I now carry around a hankie all the time and have turned into my Grandmother with wads of kleenex stuffed into all of my pockets (which kind of makes me smile, I miss her and wish she was here to meet her great grandchild). Thanks to my ever growing cleavage I can now stuff some in there too. Along with my wallet, car keys, and phone if need be. That's another post.

Mouth, Drooling- Seriously. Haven't experienced this one yet, possibly because food was the enemy until only a few weeks ago, but I understand this happens. Sexy. Bibs aren't just for babies any more!

Mouth, Belching- Like a truck driver. Often catches me by surprise. Good think our social life was pretty much nil when it was at its worst, I didn't look pregnant and couldn't use that as an excuse, I would have had to don a Harley tee and trucker hat instead. Also weird hiccups and sneezing. (Side note-felt the baby hiccuping for the first time yesterday. Kind of like kicking, but with rhythm. Either that or it was dancing. Neat.).

Mouth, Puking- That has been covered extensively in here already, but suffice to say it can happen at any time, for any reason what-so-ever.

Mouth, Bleeding- Thanks to a dramatically increased blood supply, my gums bleed like crazy every time I brush my teeth. I look like a rabid vampire when I'm done. More sexiness.

Body, Sweating- Hot flashes and night sweats abound. Suddenly piling on some extra weight around your core tends to make you a bit more warm than usual. So far not too bad, but having to sleep in a bra and wrapped around a body pillow isn't helping. Not my favorite way to work up a sweat in bed.

Boobs, Colostrum- The milk factory can start production early, although not in any real quantity. I have a cousin who started leaking around 16 weeks. Ugh. I got some pads just to be prepared because you know the first time I'll have to deal with this will be when I've just put on the last dress in my closet I can fit into on our way to the Nutcracker.

Butt, Farting- So far, so good here too. Again possibly because all I was eating for months was simple carbs. No difficult veggies or meat to process. I hear pregnant woman farts can be deadly though, what with all the weird combos of stuff we might ingest in our vastly compacted digestive system. Be warned.

Butt, Pooping- Ever see one of those reality birth shows where they tell the woman to bear down like she's having a bowel movement? What they don't tell you is that they often do. Right on the delivery table. Not a Kodak moment you're hoping for. Enemas are now not de rigueur in hospitals any more (neither is shaving, thank goodness. Who needs the extra discomfort of stubble down there afterward? Now a trim wouldn't be the worst thing, I don't know how you're supposed to manage the landscaping once you can't see it any more. Hey, if Demi can pull off the au naturel look, so can we!), <link NSFW!> so this is more common place. In watching some of the water birth videos on YouTube, in between the Yanni music, sage burning and gentle encouragements to push and breathe, it's not unusual to see a random turd floating around the birth pool. If they're on top of things, someone will have an aquarium net to fish it out. Not thrilled about this possibility, yet another reason why I'd prefer that my husband doesn't look down there after maybe a quick glimpse of the baby crowning. We are a closed bathroom door couple, some things need to remain a mystery. It keeps the romance alive.

Bajango, Everything- Peeing is probably the most annoying. When you have this extra weight sitting on and sometimes kicking your bladder, and your fluid retention is way up, you find you now have some surprising things in common with your Grandparents, namely the possibility of incontinence. Usually it could be just a bit here and there when sneezing or laughing too hard (if a pregnant woman says she laughed so hard she peed her pants, it's a) likely she means it literally, and b) doesn't necessarily mean it was that funny because it doesn't take much for that to happen sometimes). It can become problematic if you don't heed the call of nature (which seems to be about every hour, on the hour) when she starts to whisper in your ear, even though it's often hardly worth the trouble.

Side story- I recently (and surprisingly) bonded with a man at a party over the problem of what to do when you're puking your guts out and have to pee at the same time. Apparently having kidney stones produces some of the same symptoms as pregnancy (and is as close to the pain of childbirth for men I hear), namely lots of gut wrenching puking and loss of bladder control. There is nothing quite so miserable as being an otherwise healthy adult draped over the toilet and holding on for dear life while you throw up whatever is left in your stomach (or just dry-heaving, which is worse and more painful) while simultaneously being unable to stop peeing your pants with every up-chuck. Really makes you want your Mommy. Or one of those astronaut diapers.

Leukorrhea, Mucus Plug, and Lochia, Oh My!- This is a whole bunch of gross stuff that is Nature's way of protecting you from infection, letting you know it's probably long past time to start thinking about packing that bag for the hospital, and cleaning house once the baby has been evicted (Google them if you want more details). They're also three reasons why sex may be a big turn off for several months for women, and likely for men too if they knew about it. See my post "I Blame Men!" for some helpful info about this, namely AVOID ALWAYS BRAND PADS, THEY'RE EVIL AND MADE BY WOMEN HATING MEN. There's no other explanation.

Last But Not Least, Amniotic Fluid- Otherwise known as your "water breaking." Not always the big "drench the floor" dramatic puddle shown in movies, often just a leaking. Means it's definitely "Thundercats Go!!" time and you'd better already have a name picked out and your cell phone and camera fully charged. You should probably call your husband too at this point.

So now, doesn't pregnancy sound wonderful and beautiful and like a blessing that should be cherished every minute? I bet you just can't wait to experience all this for yourself (possibly again)! In truth, aside from the puking/peeing dilemma (which seems to be over for now), it's not been so bad. Once I started feeling the baby kicking and having a belly so that it actually looked like I was pregnant, it even started to become worth it. It's amazing what we can adapt and get used to. Now that I feel pregnant and not like I'm harboring some horrible parasite that could burst through my abdomen at any moment, I find that having to get up and pee three times a night and constantly sniffling are not so bad, especially considering it could be worse. I could still be puking.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me This Was An Option?!!?

Aww, look! It's a... really creepy robot baby!

Just when you thought it couldn't get weirder... "Japanese researchers created a baby robot designed to simulate the behavior and development of a real infant in an effort to better understand how humans grow up.

Named Noby, short for "nine-month-old baby," it has 600 sensors across its body to feel touch, cameras and microphones fitted into its head for vision and hearing and is hooked up to a powerful computer.
"You can load your software into the robot, watch how it reacts to human actions and its surroundings and compare it with the behavior of real children," Kuniyoshi told AFP Tuesday. "Human beings learn and develop various functions in the process of growing up, but the exact mechanism is yet to be explained," it said."

Damn, if only I had know about this BEFORE we got pregnant!!! My in-laws are even in Japan and could probably even pick one up in some vending machine right next to one selling used school girl panties.

Kidding aside for a brief moment... I (in my admittedly limited knowledge of robot programming) fail to see how a robot baby will "simulate the behavior and development of a real infant in an effort to better understand how humans grow up." I mean, isn't it "garbage in, garbage out?" Don't the programmers have to already have a thorough understanding of the "behavior and development" of a real infant so that they can program this to act like one? Being a robot, isn't it impossible for it to actually "grow up?" Won't people treat it differently than a real baby, because face it, it's like some freakish love child of Chucky and an iMac, and therefor none of the data will have any real meaning at all?

It says it has microphones, but what about speakers so it can burst out crying at inconvenient times, food intake/storage and output areas so it can eat, poop, pee and upchuck non-stop, and thanks to the speakers, let you know when it needs to do any of that at maximum volume? Does it throw a fit for the latest Hello Kitty/Powder Puff Girls toy? Will it point to strangers and/or family members and say embarrassing things about them during a sudden silence in the room? Are some of the robot babies gay? Do its eyes glow red when it gets mad? Why does it look like even all the robot babies are boys? Will it swear in inappropriate situations? If it gets a virus, will you have to give up your opening night opera tickets and sit up all night with it singing obnoxious songs? These are serious, scientific questions that I think need to be answered!



Has ANYONE in Japan EVER watched a horror movie? Because you know this can't end well. I give it six months before they lose funding and wind up selling them to pedophiles as sex toys... and they develop AI and start taking over the world.

Robot Baby article link

I Blame Men! (This post probably falls into TMI territory)

I'm pretty sure Martha Stewart demo'd how to make these last week.

There is no way a woman would let this design fly. It had to be a man.

So, I woke up this morning with a rash. A PAINFUL rash. On my bajango. What the hell? I called my midwife, and first question she asks me is "Are you wearing panty liners, and are the Always brand?" Why yes, and yes. Every day. What could be the problem? I mean, I'm sure that nobody would be idiotic enough to create a product that would go on such a sensitive area that would be harmful to said area, would they?!!? Oh ye of little faith in the power of corporate greed!

It turns out that, yes, in fact they would! Apparently Always brand panty liners are treated with some chemical and covered in synthetic sandpaper (it feels like) that is known to do this. Seriously, WTF?!!? That is just EVIL. You don't hear of condoms or jock straps that, oops, yeah, turns out they make your weenie break out in hives and shrink an inch. Fat chance.

Anyway, now my wonderful, loving husband is going to stop by the store and get me some non-toxic/non-abrasive liners to replace them. I told him to go to Whole Foods/PCC and get the most hippie looking all- natural, 100% virgin cotton ones he can find. As long as they are disposable. I'm NOT washing the damn things.

Where's My Glow, Goddamnit!

Alrighty, I'm now 16 weeks. Still battling nausea (but it's better), still not much of an appetite either. Belly's getting bigger, about 33" around now. My nails are growing like crazy, but my hair kinda looks like crap and my skin is dry and I am certainly NOT glowing. However, I count myself lucky. I haven't put on a ton of weight (down a net 10 still), no hemorrhoids (though I understand there's still plenty of time for that fun to show up), not super moody (still only in dreams), no bizarre cravings for chalk or dirt (pica, it happens), no insomnia, leg cramps, heart burn, stretch marks, giant painful ta-tas, skin tags, lactose intolerance, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia or melasma (pregnancy mask)... yet.  All not totally unheard of side effects of pregnancy. So it could be worse.

I also have a long way to go before I'm first chair and will be playing solos in the butt-trumpet section in this household (I'll let you wonder if my husband or dog is current master of that instrument), but I can (and do) belch like a truck driver. I don't know why, it's like I'm full of air (some would say hot air). Sometimes I think it's not a baby bump but a giant air bubble instead.

Twenty seven days until we find out if we'll be stuck with a lot of ugly baby stuff in pink or blue. Day before my husband's 40th birthday... will he get a penis or a vagina? Leaning towards the latter, but we'll see. Looking forward to that, it'll be cool to start identifying with Spawn more once we know the gender.

Next blog: Why is most baby stuff so goddamn ugly? They couldn't care less if their bouncy seat has Elmo or rainbow fish or teddy bears on it, and grown adults would never buy a piece of furniture for themselves with that crap on it, so why do we get it for our babies? Who decided that crap was appropriate? Ugh.

All Right, Mr. DeMille, I'm Ready For My Close-Up!

Me at 14 weeks

Me at about 12 weeks

Alrighty, here begins the parade of pregnancy photos of me and my belly. I have to confess that the one on the left is a "reenactment" in that it's really me at 14 weeks sucking my gut in to try and give a bit of a "before" photo. Turns out the baby doesn't suck in so well. I plan on taking all the photos in this dress as its very stretchy and should accommodate my expanding girth, though it does get a bit sheer at the limits of its endurance.

Now that I'm generally feeling better (until the next weird symptom shows up I suppose, I understand there's a lot of them) and starting to manifest the reality of my condition, getting more excited about it is getting easier. I keep reading these pregnancy books where various women talk about their pregnancies and about how psycho they got. I got a little cranky last night and snapped at Brooke but while it was related to being pregnant in that I was trying to tell Brooke how I hurt my foot and he was laughing because I wasn't making much sense because of my frequent bouts of fuzzy brained Pregnancy brain, it wasn't crazy off the wall hormonal loony. I also felt bad for it right away and sent an email apologizing (he fell asleep right away).

OK, off to bed... while I'm tending to not feel so nauseous these days, I'm still taking Benadryl and I can feel the minute it kicks in. I hope to stop it soon as I'm tired enough as it is, though all the sleep is nice. Looking forward to experiencing one of the nicer side effects, the pregnancy dream induced "big-O!" Yes, it's true, not a myth, and proves that my god is a merciful, if somewhat sardonically humored god, noodly appendages and all.

Pregnancy Has Turned Me Into a Hormonal Psycho!

(For those of you hoping for a bit of schadenfreude, you're about to be disappointed.)

So, one of my big fears about being pregnant (after general health issues for me and the baby) were based on  the horror stories about how pregnant women are so overrun with hormones that they just break down crying one minute and are raging psychos the next with seemingly little control over their mind (this goes hand in hand with my fear of growing older and Alzheimer's, but that's a ways off). Ugh!

So, I've found that my hormones have definitely come into play and turned me into this raging worthy-of-Bad-Girl's-Club-and-Bridezillas bitch... but only in my dreams. (Told you) As I mentioned before, I've been having these very vivid and realistic dreams pretty much every night. Several of them are about me going into these raging fits, the throwing-things-around-the-room-while-screaming type fit. For no good reason. I even know I have no good reason while I'm having this fit in my dream. I wake up drained and with a residual adrenaline rush and feelings of anger at whomever my dream fit was about, but they go away quickly, but it makes my stomach hurt (more) and makes it hard to go back to sleep (which is difficult these days anyways).

I had one last night, fighting with my Mom about something. It was right after I woke up crying from a dream about my Grandma where she was teaching me swing and Charleston moves. I'm always somewhat lucid at some point in these dreams, rationalizing that it has to be a dream, but trying to convince myself that it's not because I'm enjoying it so much. I always wake up crying from those dreams because I realize she really is gone and whatever happened in my dream won't be able to happen in real life. She was a neat lady and I wish she was still around to meet her great grandchild. She died in 2003 and was a catalyst for me making big and very positive changes in my life. I wish she was around to see those too. She'd really like Brooke.

Not to say I haven't had my emotional ups and downs, and I'm certainly more prone to cry at sentimental movies now, I think they're related to feeling like crap for two months and being exhausted and frustrated more than pure hormones (which judging by the amount of "morning" sickness I've had, I certainly have an abundance of those!), though I understand the hormones can give you some crazy dreams. I still have a long way to go, and perhaps they'll get the better of me down the road (delivery room does NOT count), but so far, so good. One unfounded fear down, hopefully many more to go. :-)

Now, my totally different dream about Ben Stiller on the other hand.... ?!!? Ben Affleck I could understand, but Stiller?!!? He's like a Jack Russell on PCP, high-strung and unpredictable and prone to disaster... I don't know what THAT was all about. Weird.

Don't Worry, It's A Keeper!

This is just what my dream was like. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now some of you may have been understandably concerned about my lack of gushing about the joys of being pregnant and instead all the bitching about being nauseous and throwing up all the time, and wondering if a trip to Planned Parenthood might still be an option if I wasn't able to eat a med-rare steak (the smell of cooked meat is my biggest technicolor-yawn trigger right now) sometime in the near future... well, don't worry. Not only am I feeling better, but I realized the other day that what I was likely feeling wasn't gas or indigestion, but the baby moving! That's pretty cool... if you saw the way it was leaping around in there on the ultrasound, it's actually amazing I don't feel it more! I'm even tempted to use the word "awe" here.

I've had very vivid and realistic dreams the last four nights that I could feel (and even see, as in fists and elbows pushing my stomach out) the baby moving. They are so realistic and tactile that I'm shocked awake (not realizing I was asleep) lying in the exact position I was dreaming I was in, and nearly rolled over and woke Brooke up to have him feel. Only when I realized that my hand (where I "felt" the baby move) was near my ribcage (baby still below belly button) did I realize I was dreaming. While it's kinda cool to have a preview of sorts, it's not cool to be awoken from a dead sleep confident that something is punching its way around your abdomen. That then becomes kinda creepy and hard to go back to sleep. I really hope the attached photo is Photoshopped. It looks painful.

Also along the lines of "it's a keeper" is the fact that all of our test results have come back clear. Not sure if we'll do an amniocentesis (test where they shove a giant needle through my stomach wall to suck up a bit of amniotic fluid to test for stuff like Downs and more) or not. Large part of me wants to know now, but there's also a small (1 in 1,600)  risk of miscarriage and false positives. Jury is still out on that.

I'm currently 13 weeks, 5 days, baby is about 3.5 inches long, and bouncing around like a Mexican jumping bean, although we are fairly sure it's not in fact Mexican. I've lost 11 pounds, but have put on about 3lbs of "baby stuff", so that probably means I lost 14lbs of fat... who knew pregnancy could be a diet plan. I definitely had it to lose too... having gone up two cup sizes in the last three years, I'm just fine with going back down a bit before production starts rolling and they go up again. I never thought all those years ago in high school as a "late bloomer" that someday I'd be wishing for smaller boobs... definitely falls in the category of "be careful what you wish for!"

So, the long and short of it is that now that I'm not feeling like crap all the time any more (even made it out for sushi tonight!*), and have felt the baby move, it's becoming more real and thus more fun and easy to get excited about. I've found I tolerate pain a lot better than nausea. I think that might come in handy later.


*Yes, yes, I know, sushi is on the "no, no!" list. I don't care, it sounded good (not much of anything else does these days), I need the protein, and 61 million Japanese women who ate sushi while pregnant can't all be wrong. They still kick our ass at math. I understand that you're just not supposed to eat bad sushi as it sucks extra bad to have food poisoning while pregnant. Oh, and keep the tuna to a minimum too because of the mercury. Having my first full meal in weeks (and keeping it down) was worth it.

I'm Pregnant, Yea?

Yup, as my friend Matt would say, I'm "all knocked up and shit." Tomorrow will be 12 weeks, first trimester already over! Seems so fast, but also so slow what with all the nausea and exhaustion. I feel like I missed out on what summer we did have because I was too sick and/or tired to enjoy it! Hopefully this nausea will be done with soon, and I can begin to enjoy eating again. While it's been nice to lose 10lbs before putting on another 20 or so, feeling hung over for two months isn't my ideal weight loss plan.

Brooke has been fantastic, so supportive, loving and patient, he's a lot more excited about this than I am right now, but then he's not the sick/exhausted/sore one! Once this part is over I think I'll be a lot more excited about it too. Right now it just feels like I have the flu or attended some raging party that I have no memory of, just the residual hangover.

So far we've had two ultrasounds and some blood work done, and everything looks good so far... blood pressure is good/low, Rh+, not pre-Diabetic, no elevated levels to cause concerns genetically, A+ (never knew that before!), yadda, yadda. I'll still be worried about things like Autism and the like for a long time to come, but feeling a bit better about our odds for a healthy baby. No reason to be more concerned than anyone else, but the horror stories of people dealing with special needs children has kept me childless so far. Fingers crossed!

Basically, this is an act of faith for me right now. I can easily visualize all the reasons not to have a kid... the exhaustion, the mess, the fighting, the cost, the loss of personal freedom/privacy/finances... a visit to this website has endless examples of why perhaps my fur child Jester is a better, safer, cheaper option: http://www.shitmykidsruined.com/. These are real, tangible, mostly inevitable parts of being a parent. Most of the reasons to have a child are theoretical: the sense of wonder of a child, watching something we created discover and learn about the world, the joy of successes, the love shared... those are all things other parents talk about, but until you actually HAVE a child, hard to fully comprehend, no matter how many Facebook posts you read.

So... I have faith that our child will be healthy, that my husband will be a loving and supportive father, that our families will be there for us when we need them (and give us room to figure things out on our own when we don't!), that we'll be the parents who maintain a social life and their friendships (eventually!), that I'll be able to handle the next 28 weeks and the birth to come, that I'll be the kind of parent I want to be, not the one I was afraid I'd be. So... right now while I can't eat and physical activity makes me ill... I'm going on faith, and for an avowed Agnostic, that's saying something.