The Not-So-Divine Secrets of -Motherhood-

I knew the floodgates would open

I admit it. I am usually pretty good about having enough willpower to restrain myself from something but once I have that little tiny crack it's all over. Then it's a race downhill from there. That is exactly what happened.

First of all, it was the cutest thing. My husband went to San Diego to catch up with his brother who was in town for a conference. They had a little time to spare and my brother in law needed to bring something home for his two girls so they went to the toy outlet store. My brother in law was diligently searching for an innocent looking stuffed lion for his three year old and a stuffed kitty cat for the one year old.

My husband says, "Yeah, I should bring something home for my boy too." (Really hoping for his sake that it IS a boy). He apparently grabs a very disturbing King-Kong doll, complete with a scar running down his face. Yeah, that's BOY enough. Fortunately my brother in law is somewhat experienced. He suggested that my husband may want to refrain from the extreme toys with youngsters, lest we will pay for them again and again later in life when our child is in therapy. Good call!

Instead my husband found the softest full size Tyco Beanie Baby monkey. It is the cutest thing ever, and of all coincidences- matches one of the nursery themes I was really into! Hence the choice on the nursery theme was made the instant I saw the monkey.

I wasn't really going to buy it until we got closer but I couldn't help it. I found it on Ebay for about fifty bucks cheaper than I had found it anywhere else so on an impulse I hit the "Buy it Now" button. Oh heavens, what I am I doing? Quick, get the paypal logged in before I try to back out of this in some lame fashion, regardless of the potential negative feedback.

That being said and done, I then told my husband what I did. It was a little like confession, I approached him with trepidation waiting for the reprimand but it felt so good after I told him that I was able to let it go. So in about ten to twelve days I will be unpacking our complete crib bedding set (barring any warehouse shipping issues). I'm really excited and a little scared.

The next thing that I did was promptly hit the Carters Outlet and spend a ton of money on sleepers, onesies, and accessories. I can't help it, that store has just the cutest stuff! And if you go to the regular department stores the prices aren't that great. I tried to vary things in size a little- some things I bought in newborn size (even if the baby is only small enough to wear for a week), most things I bought in size 0-3 months, and a few things in size 3-6 months. The reason I didn't pick too many things in the older size was because by then I will know the babys gender and would rather start dressing it as such.

I couldn't bring myself to confess these things after I just confessed the nursery set so I quietly hung them up in the baby's closet, a place that I know my husband would never look. Then in several months when he is in there assembling the furniture and discovers them I can truly say "What? Those? I bought those a long time ago!"

I can't help it. They are just so cute. I've already been to the baby's room about four times just to gaze upon the little wardrobe already assembling itself in there. It is truly a beautiful sight.

Approaching total breakdown...

You know my iron resolve not to look at anything baby related until at least my sixth or seventh month? I've broken that rule. First I convinced myself that surfing the internet and looking at baby things was no big deal because I wasn't actually touching them and wouldn't actually order any of them. It was innocent.

Then I narrowed down my nursery theme to two patterns. Still innocent enough, I haven't actually purchased anything.

I'll be darned but I can't help it. I've actually broken down and bought something baby related. I was in Old Navy the other day mainly to look for loose-fitting capris. I was thinking if I could just find some of their drawstring waist pants that I could make those work better than maternity pants this summer. Of course, those pants went out of style last summer, so they didn't have any.

I wandered over to the baby aisle. I was just going to look at the new styles for babies. The hard part is that you really can't find anything neutral past the 0-3 month range so you are pretty much limited to onesies and sleepers. Nothing exciting about those styles. Although I do find that Old Navy always has some great markdowns, so I headed straight for the jungle of clearance baby clothes.

I found two of the cutest little one piece outfits- I'm not even sure what their technical name is. They didn't exactly look like pajamas, but also didn't exactly look like the kind of outfit you would parade your kid around town in. Maybe I should call them "loungers". They are the comfy kind of clothes you would wear while puttering around the house but change out of before you go to the grocery store. I bought them. Along with a cute little newborn hat that matched both.

The bag has been sitting in my car for three days while I try to determine if that was a wise move or not. I guess I think as long as I don't bring it in the house I'm not jinxing myself. But half of me wants to go buy some little baby hangers and just hang it in the nursery closet as if to say "This IS going to happen without a hitch".

Dilemma of the day. Do I just break down and let myself move on with this or do I keep trying to restrain myself in order to protect against unforeseen heartbreak and then wind up regretting it at the end because I didn't fully enjoy it?

I think the flood gates are opening up. I plan to go to the Carter Outlet Store tomorrow. Just to look.

Daddy, Meet Baby

Each night when I come home I eat a popsicle and change into comfy clothes. I eat dinner, then I usually rest on the couch or propped up in bed. Sometimes with a book in hand, other times mindlessly watching the tube. One thing is always the same, ever since the baby started moving I always spend a little time each night tormenting the baby into moving enough for me to feel satisfied that everything is still healthy.

For me, the second I realized the baby (really THE BABY, not gas) was moving around in there it was like everything ceased being hypothetical and instantly turned real. I mean, come on, I had to get ultrasounds and doppler every two weeks up until that point because I was so freaked out about viability.

So now the baby moves, and it moves every day. That in and of itself is more reassuring than cheesy doppler would ever be. I devote time each and every night to just sitting and enjoying the baby's movements. For me, everything has come together. I know I still face many months and there could still be bumps in the road but I cannot put to words the sheer wonder and joy that I feel every time the baby moves.

Unfortunately for all the dads out there you don't get this experience. I know my own husband is cheated because I have been truly feeling the baby move for about two weeks now. All he can do is watch like a spectator as I sit and enjoy the kicks from the inside. Well, at least until last night that was.

It seems every time my husband is out late the baby is more active than ever. Last night he got home around ten and the baby had been crazy active from about 8:30. I kept poking it to keep it going until he got home. Good thing he wasn't here or for sure he would have found a way to separate my hands from my abdomen and permanently restrain them.

He crawled into bed and I didn't think there would be any movement left for him to feel. I rolled over and shifted, shifted, shifted until I could get comfortable. Envision an eighteen wheeler attempting a three point turn in a narrow cul-de-sac. At any rate, just as I got comfy I felt the tell-tale thump from inside. So I rolled back over and asked my husband for his hand. I thought he would turn me down, maybe I thought he wasn't as fascinated by it as I am but he obligingly placed his warm hand on my tummy.

Nothing.

Darn the little bugger. Why did you stop moving? Then a flicker. Well that will never work. I can only feel the flickers from the inside. All of a sudden, a resounding thump. My husband jerked his hand away reflexively. His response? "Whoa, was that it? It's like a thump!!!"

Yeah, NOW you see why I get so excited? So anyway, I figured after that he would roll over to his side and pass out. I was warmed to the core to watch him put his hand back on my tummy and settle in on the wrong side. He fell asleep with his hand firmly placed against our little token of love. My heart was so full that I couldn't fall asleep.

This, THIS is what we waited two years for. And the best is yet to come.

On the Fritz

I hate to say it but Ithink the washing machine is on The Fritz. Which could be catastrophic for me, especially if it needs a new computer. Five years ago it sounded great to buy one of those new Calypso washing machines- the high efficiency ones that are all preprogrammed with specific load types and can sense how many clothes are in the washer and only use enough water to wash them.

Not that it has been a bad machine, not by any standard. We've only had to call the tech out once in the last five years to repair it and that was due to operator stupidity. Yes, I wash my bras in the washing machine. Who the heck has time to handwash them in the sink and how would they ever get really clean? So I once pulled a bra out of the washer only to find both underwires missing. I was more ripped off about the bra, considering I had only worn it twice. About three months later my machine took a dump and I called the repair guy.

I had a house full of people when he actually made it. It was a pool party day if I recall. I showed him in and he set to work on the washer while I went back out to visit with my friends. About twenty minutes later he comes to find me and proudly announces (in front of everyone) that he found the problem and would have it all assembled within minutes. GREAT! And the problem? BRA WIRES he proudly announces. Not only did he announce it but he held up the evidence for all to see. I was mortified. Lesson learned. Don't worry about the laundry when company is coming over, the whole airing the dirty stuff in front of everyone could really happen.

So as I'm sitting here listening to the high-pitched whine of the machine I can tell you one thing for sure. It isn't bra wires this time. Which means it could be something along the expensive lines. I'm so bad about that, half the time I would rather replace something even if it costs a little more than to just repair what I have.

Good thing my husband is around to keep me in check.

Excitement!

Last night was relatively quiet. I was completely exhausted after work and made it as far as the couch when I got home. I was too tired to even think about stalking the pantry for edibles. My husband was over helping my sister finish the tile job in her bathroom so I had the house all to myself. Well, plus my two over-sized, spoiled-rotten cats.

I was resting comfortably on the short couch with my feet propped up and my hand lightly touching my rounded tummy. I felt the nudge from the inside more than from the outside but I was absolutely in awe. So I did what a six year old would do, I pushed on it.

It pushed back. This happened four times right in a row. I was ecstatic. It really is confirmation that this is definitely the baby and not some malicious form of gas mimicking my baby. It was so exciting I picked up the phone and called my husband and sister. She put me on speaker phone so I could tell them both the story at once.

Of course, my husband's first response? "Stop taunting & poking the poor thing. Just let him sleep." Are you kidding me? Let him sleep? Hell no! I want him/her moving around as much as possible. Right now that is the only affirmation I have that everything is still going along as planned with this kid. Move as much as you want baby, and when you don't want to I will kindly give you a little nudge to remind you.

So I've come to the conclusion that the reason babies cry every couple of hours in the middle of the night when they are newborn is because of mothers like me. It's punishment for the fact that we want to make sure the baby is still doing well so we poke it and wake it up during the last longest sleep of it's little life. They just want to pay us back for the kindly nudges that we give them.

At this point, I'll take it. I want this baby to roll around so I'm going to keep poking it. And if it cries all night when it gets here then I will just have to come back and re-read this post. The excitement is finally hitting me.

Let the swelling begin

You know those super-cute sandals with the little tiny point for a heel that you just had to have last summer?  Let me tell you they are not the footwear of choice when pregnant. It does not matter that they make you feel sexy when you are wearing them, especially with a fresh pedicure. Believe me, you will regret it at the end of the day.

I tottered around on those sandals all day. I got several compliments about how cute they were so I just kept grinning like a fool trying to act like I didn't notice that my feet and toes had swollen until they resembled Fred Flintstone's bare feet. I hope no one else noticed that either.  When we were cruel kids we would tell people, "I like your, uh, shoes". They would walk away thinking "That was a nice compliment. Wait, was that really a compliment? No, really, what is wrong with my shoes?"

I felt a little like that today. I kept thinking maybe they were complimenting on my shoes to draw the attention away from the rest of my visible foot. Maybe their mothers taught them to always say something nice. I don't know.

What I do know is that once I got home and gingerly stepped out of those adorable feet killers that I noticed my toes had swollen like fat little breakfast sausages and I couldn't even wiggle them. There must have been way more sodium in that chicken at lunch than I thought.

I enjoyed my evening pregnancy ritual. Changed into comfy clothes, grabbed a popsicle (yep, before dinner) and sat with my feet elevated in front of the tv. The swelling appears to be going down, although I'm sure it will go back up once my body realizes I've eaten three pieces of pizza (also full of sodium). At least now I can wiggle a few of those sausages.

My husband laughs at me but I am going to invent "ice-booties" for people with swelling problems. They sound wierd but if I can just corner the market on cooled socks I know I could make a buck or two. The key is to making them cool enough to reduce swelling but not too cold that you wouldn't want to use them. Heck, someone has probably already beaten me to it. If they have and you are aware of it would you mind posting a comment that tells me where to find them? I'll buy a case.

We aren't even in the dead of summer yet. I hope I can make it.

The Coast is Clear

Nothing about pregnancy is really guaranteed but when the doctor told me that the AFP screening came back negative on all counts I breathed a giant sigh of relief. For once in my life I was praying for a negative! I didn't get to spend as much time poring over the results and committing them to memory as I would have liked but I didn't want to creep out the doctor and nurse with my overzealous approach to memorizing every single test during this pregnancy.

That's OK, I can just call the lab and get a copy of the results on my own anyway. I may even frame these ones.

I didn't get to do an ultrasound today but that was OK, I didn't exactly expect one. Especially after my dream the other day. I do however have one scheduled in three more weeks. Ohmygosh can I make it that long without seeing my baby portrayed in the worst black and white television ever broadcast? I guess I'm going to have to.

To tide me over they used the doppler today. I had for a time considered renting myself a doppler for use at home but after today I think I'm pretty well cured of it. First of all, if you have never seen a doppler used in the ob/gyn's office it resembles a child's portable karaoke machine. It is a small handheld device with a wand attached that looks like a microphone. It was all I could do not to ask the doctor if he could sing "You Light Up My Life" when he walked into the room with it. I didn't think he would really get the joke.

He squirted the jelly on my tummy and used the microphone to locate a rhythmic sound that I assume was the baby. Of course, it was only briefly interrupted by the feedback from the first generation karaoke machine that we were using to locate the heartbeat. So my fascination with the doppler has come to an end and I no longer feel the pressing need to rent one. I'll save my twenty five bucks a month for something else, like a pedicure, or a copay for an ultrasound.

I'm going to have to find a way to type faster one-handed. It seems that now that I have felt the baby move I can't seem to remove one of my hands from my stomach at all times. So the one-handed approach isn't working so well, but I don't want to miss even one little nudge from down below.

I think I'm going to go eat something lightly sugared because I am selfish enough that I want to feel this baby move inside of me all of my waking hours. This glorious, healthy baby.

True Wonder

I just knew that last week it was gas bubbles. In all honesty I think last night was the first REAL time I actually felt the baby. It was in the right place and it felt exactly like I always imagined it would feel. I am now pretty certain that the last ten days have been some sort of digestion related movement.

We had some good friends over yesterday just to hang out by the pool. It was a pretty long day and the sun can take quite a bit out of you even if you aren't pregnant. So by the time the sun went down and we had finished dinner I was pretty exhausted. We sat out on the patio by the pool enjoying the warmth from the day without the glare of the sun.

I felt the first tiny movement and I thought it was just my imagination. A minute, maybe two minutes later I felt it again. It felt more like a gentle nudging from inside. It continued for about five to ten minutes, I'm not sure how long. I was lost in wonder and I paid no attention to time. I kept my hand on my stomach waiting for the next movement. Sometimes it felt a little like the baby was rolling around in there and sometimes it felt like the baby was just stretching out.

Now I am REALLY hoping that it was all baby and not all imagination. Honestly, with all the hardships that my friends have been through and are currently going through I have to separate myself and not allow that irrational fear that I am going to lose my baby as well. So I have been looking for every little positive sign that I am still doing well instead of thinking about the potentially negative ones.

The countdown is on. I have my next appointment tomorrow morning. I truly hope that someone doesn't decide to deliver their baby in the morning and force my appointment to be rescheduled. I'm so mental about it that I even dreamed last night that my doctor got a response from the insurance company that said that I had exceeded my allowable number of ultrasounds and that he was not permitted to perform them anymore, regardless of whether I was paying out of pocket or not. See what I mean? I can't even shut off my fears when I sleep!

Here's to hoping that everything is normal at tomorrows appointment. I will get the results back from my AFP screening as well and here's to PRAYING that there is not one single abnormality in them. I don't need any additional stress. I will check back in tomorrow night for all those who follow faithfully.

By the way, my waist size has expanded to a comfortable 33 inches. Pretty respectable for my slender build. Just enough for me to start to "feel" pregnant and not so large that I feel like a house. (Yet)

Life is filled with Injustice

I know I've mentioned that I'm part of an online support group and that we feel each others pain. There is just so much sadness and injustice when you are a member of a support group. There are reasons we all join those groups, we want to be around others like us. We need an outlet for frustrations first and foremost. Sometimes we get to share good positive news and that is what keeps us going. But on the days that we hear someone else's devastating news it is like steps backward.

It seems that with a group large enough you will experience every single problem that could be out there in that big giant spectrum. In the world of trying to conceive the problems can be something that can be overcome, like your husband isn't fully on board with having kids yet. They can be major, like your body is so filled with endometriosis and your egg quality or ovarian reserve has diminished so much that even if you were producing eggs they wouldn't stick anyway so you are doomed.

When I first found out I was pregnant I ran myself through every possible nightmare. First the egg would have stuck in the wrong place, like my fallopian tube. We found out it was in the right place but the yolk sac was flat. My next fear was that it fertilized and stuck but was going to be a miscarriage anyway because there was no fetal pole at five weeks. We saw the fetal pole but my next fear was that there would be no heartbeat. At some point in there I had convinced myself that it was molar or partially molar and that it would all seem to be developing as normal and then I would find out it was all a hoax. My body would have tricked me and I would be pregnant, but with a non-viable pregnancy. You know, running myself through those fears could have been enough for the pregnancy to spontaneously end itself- the stress level in my body alone was toxic.

Today I found out that another close friend from my support network who has already experienced loss once during our friendship has lost a second pregnancy. This time she made it to the end of the first trimester- she made it into fourteen weeks and they are thinking it may have been molar. I am absolutely crushed. Every nightmare I ever dreamed has come true in her world. I'm devastated for her. I read her post and cried, I couldn't even think of a single comforting thing to say. Sometimes you wish that your cyber friends were just down the street so that you could hop in the car to comfort both them and yourself. One of the worst things about it is that there is nothing you can do. Words are not the same as warm hugs or silent looks passed back and forth without having to say anything at all. Melissa, if you were here I wouldn't say a word. I couldn't possibly think of anything to say that would make your life seem any more fair or to ease the heartache you have experienced.

You asked us to pray that you will have the strength to continue through your rocky journey, the truth is that I know you have that strength. I will be thinking of you and I will keep you in my prayers that after you experience this tremendous injustice that you will be rewarded with the sweetest that heaven has to offer. One day you will be a mother and even though no amount of heartache is ever justified it will fade into a distant memory.

Take the time your mind and body needs in order to heal and know that we are still here for you when it is all done.

Interesting Statistics

In an effort to curb my unnecessary googling I have found other mini-projects for myself. I figured since I took the time to do the research that I would share it with you. Here are interesting stats about my life:

Number of bathing suits I own: 17 (number I can wear in public now that I'm pregnant, 1)

Number of pairs of underwear in my drawer: 43 (number I can wear comfortably now that I've experienced the joy of pregnancy hemorrhoids, 6)

Number of hangers with clothes dangling from them in my closet: 158 (number I actually still fit into, 9)

Number of shoes tumbled in the bottom of the closet: 28 (number that I can slip on and off with ease now that I'm feeling bloated and clumsy, 2)

Number of plastic cups that we own: 58 (number stacked beside my bathroom sink because I'm too lazy to carry them down every day, 9)

Number of beers in the two fridges: 27 (number that I can drink, HA, none)

Well. I must admit it wasn't even remotely gratifying to conduct research within my own home. I would much rather Google scary medical terms and read about anything and everything that could go wrong.

I'm neurotic

It doesn't take much to tip me over the edge. So last week I spent three or four days fantasizing that the gas bubbles were the baby. Now I've convinced myself that they were just gas. I hate it when my husband is right. Actually, I hate that he knows me well enough to predict every little thing.

I'm still not sure. I felt the bubbles Tuesday night, Wednesday and Thursday afternoon, Friday morning, and that was it. Nothing Saturday. Maybe a little something Sunday night while I was laying on the couch watching a chick flick. And so far today, well, nothing really.

But the thing is, I was so bent on recognizing that flutter feeling and turning it into the baby that I didn't really pay attention to exactly where those flutters were. They are always on the left. I mean, always. And they are a little higher than I thought they would be, so my next step is to go online and take a quick refresher course in anatomy. What organ would be located in that general area that would cause a bubbling feeling?

The countdown is on to the next doctor appointment, which happens to be one week from today. It has taken every single ounce of willpower I have to not have already called him and bumped my appointment up earlier than one month. The thing is, I just want to walk into his office and tell him for a change, "I told you I could make it an entire month!".

I tell you, I'm neurotic. I'm bone tired but I am going to spend the next few hours googling anything and everything related to fetal movement, gas bubbles, and unruly body organs. I'll let you know if I find anything worthwhile.

Gas bubbles or baby?

I've been asking myself with every single twinge, "Is that the baby kicking?" And in my heart I just knew that at nine weeks, ten weeks, eleven weeks one day, that I was not really feeling the baby move. Everyone asks if I feel the flutters yet. And I really kept thinking that I hadn't felt anything, except bloated irritation.

But last night was Bunco night and after dinner I swore there might have been something different. My first thought was, "I shouldn't have eaten those tacos." But when the gas bubbles (or so I've come to know them) continued and there was no flatulence I began to wonder. Of course, I thought maybe it was a one time thing. Being around eleven other women that are all mothers sharing with you their opinions about everything can do that to you. It's a little like the mob mentality.

Today after lunch I started to feel the same thing. Let me try and describe it. It feels like when you have a drink with a straw in it. The straw is just barely submerged in your drink and you start blowing bubbles in the top of the drink. Like a very light constant bubble feeling. I'm sure that the mental picture I just painted is not doing it justice.

At first I thought for sure that the bubbles were gas, then I was convinced that they were the baby. I even told my husband, who laughed and told me I was going to be pretty ripped off when I got all excited about the "baby" only to find out that it was just the remnants of a super greasy pizza lunch making its way through my digestive tract.

So anyway, I'm left wondering. I think it must be the baby. I haven't had the toots all afternoon and you would think by now with all that bubbling that it would have created an explosion that could rival any atomic bomb.

At fifteen weeks four days I think I felt the first "flutters" as they call them. I hate to say this but I can't wait to feel that first solid kick. Ask me how I feel about those in four or five more months.