Each week seems to pass more quickly than the last - it's a little alarming. Did you know, that I am three(ish) weeks away from the point where my doctor probably wouldn't intervene if I go into labor? THREE WEEKS. Dude, I'm so not ready to go into labor. I mean, that's going to hurt. I've been reading birth stories, and the women keep using the same description of how it feels - like the upper half of your body is trying to rip away from the lower half. Um, PASS. But it's too late now!
What's new this week?
- My feet hurt. The pain/soreness is mainly situated in my heels. My center of gravity is completely tipped towards the front, so I naturally lean-back on my heels to counter-balance (and prevent face dives). The result? Super sore heals. And they're starting to swell a little, so all of my work shoes are tight. I've transitioned to sandals, which isn't work appropriate, but I like to think that I have a good excuse.
- My engagement ring has a new home. In a drawer. We went to an outdoor concert this past Friday night, and it was HOT. I had both rings on, but desperately wanted them OFF my finger by the end of the night. My wedding band is thin, so it doesn't bother me. But I do miss the combo.
- I've started to pull-together my hospital bag. The list has been sitting in excel for awhile now, but I've actually started purchasing the items. My mom and I went shopping a couple weeks ago, and we found awesome pjs and a lightweight robe. The lollipops and gum are in my closet. This weekend I'm going to start pulling together the items that I don't use often and putting them in a corner of my closet. I've decided that I'm going to have a "just in case I need something more" pile. It'll save Josh some guesswork if he has to run home for more items.
- I'm not sleeping well. During the middle months I was sleeping fairly consistently, only waking-up twice a night (which is AMAZING compared to six times a night during the first trimester). Well, I've starting to wake-up more. And we all know why I'm waking up. I have to pee. I'm able to get comfortable and fall asleep quickly, but the damage has already been done.
- I feel L Bean super high in my belly. It seems like he hovered at belly button level for WEEKS. And then overnight he was an inch past my belly button. Now I can feel him a solid four inches above my belly button, especially when he does a full body stretch (you know, when tries to extend his arms OUT of my lady bits and kicks his feet into my throat).
- I could use third trimester maternity clothes. All of my clothes are tighter. But I'm holding out. It doesn't make sense to buy any more clothes.
- We have ONE project left in L Bean's room. Just one! And it's an easy one.
- I had to rock myself out of the seated position on the couch. Yes, it's just as funny/pitiful as you're picturing it to be.
- What if he's not a Liam? This new thought has crept into my brain. What if he comes-out and he's not a Liam? Josh has assured me that he will be, which is good. Considering his name is already on the wall.
- It still hasn't clicked. I still don't think it's clicked that there's actually a baby in my belly. I scrutinze a newborn diaper and then hold it against my stomach - my brain fights the idea that there's something in there that will be big enough to wear it.
- We have a stroller in our dining room. Husband's brother and his wife won't make it to our baby shower (but they will make it up to VA shortly after L Bean is born!), so they sent our shower gift early. Our stroller! HOLLER. Of course Josh immediately got busy putting it together. And of course I took it for a spin around the downstairs. Who wants to go with me to the park in the middle of the workday in October for a walk?!?!
- Identity crisis. Before I got pregnant, I was just Betsy. Tall, skinny, Betsy. And then I got pregnant. And I was Preggo Betsy (thanks, Sarah). Still tall, now thickening, Betsy. If I'm completely honest, I admit that the transition was interesting and hard at times. Now I'm used to Preggo Betsy. Just in time for me to be Mom Betsy. I'm going to miss Preggo Betsy, there's no doubt about that. Pregnancy has been amazing. I've only had two geniuely uncomfortable days in 8+ months of pregnancy. And then I'll be Working Mom Betsy. Luckily I'll have a kick-butt kid to help ease the transition.
We had yet another doc appointment yesterday. My mom came with us. She was really excited to see Doc (Doc was my Aunt Amy's doctor, sot he whole family knows him well). Doc did a quickie ultrasound to see how our little man is looking. Good, strong heartbeat. His head, belly ("of the beast"), and legs are measuring about a week ahead. His estimated weight is 5 lbs 10 oz. According to babycenter.com a 33 week-old baby weighs "a little over 4 pounds." So, um, I'm growing a sumo wrestler (and my lady bits quiver). We got to peep his face in 3D. Um, cutie! Well, what we could see of his face looked cute. He had his hand in his mouth. Doc pushed on my stomach to get him to move. I believe Doc said, "Oh, that REALLY pissed him off (to which I was thinking, "No, duh, Doc. I could literally FEEL his disdain for you)." L Bean completely turned away and hid. Hid everything. Looks like someone is going to be stubborn like their Momma (Lord, help us). Doc pushed on my belly again, but L Bean wasn't having any of it. I guess he wants his face to be a total surprise come D Day. Husband and I keep talking about how fun it''ll be to see who he resembles. Because, I don't know if you knew this, but this kid is half ME and half HIM. Crazy, right!
Showing posts with label Body. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Body. Show all posts
Countdown: 9 Weeks to Baby
Last night I slept for about five hours. It was my first night of discomfort from having a growing baby in my belly (so I guess I should say that I’ve been pretty blessed). First he got the hiccups. Then he got annoyed by his hiccups and started thrashing. Then he just wouldn’t settle down. I slept from midnight to 5:00 am (we went to bed at 10:00). I was COMPLETELY awake at 5:00 am. I laid there and listened to Fiona breath, then lick her cone, scratch at her cone, then breath some more. The previous night, the area on F’s jaw where Phantom Snake rocked our (my) world leaked a big puddle onto a pillow. It used to be filled with very hard, solid gunk, which gave-way to soft, gooey gunk. I compare it to a blister that gets so full that the slightest bit of pressure and splat! The spot doesn’t seem hurt her, I think it’s just itchy and annoying. I mean, how would YOU like it if you had a bump the size of a walnut on your cheek? Oh, and you weigh 10 pounds, so that walnut is ginormous in comparison to you. Anyway, I got up to check if she was leaking again (like a stupid blister, it filled back-up some). And then I had to pee. And by now Josh is getting restless and thrashing to get comfortable again. I manage to fall back asleep until the alarm clock blasts a song that goes, “PUT ME OUT OF MY MISSSERRRYYYY” at 6:00 am. How appropriate.
I am officially very pregnant because I go to the doctor every two weeks now. I have an appointment this Friday, and I find myself thinking, “Wait, I just had one of these.” Five weeks from now, I go to ONCE A WEEK. Oh, and around that time Doc will be sticking his arm up my who-ha. So psyched.
Did you know what women usually gain a pound a week in the last trimester (about half of which is baby putting on that adorable chub)? I haven’t discussed this in blogverse yet, but I’ve packed-on some poundage. I was five pounds over my usual when I got pregnant (stupid holidays), and then it was busy season (hello eating, sympathy/stress eating, no time to exercise, and more general eating). I’ve stopped looking at the scale, and I’ve requested that Mr. H not look; however, he deliberately disobeys each time, and then I end-up asking him about the damage anyway. As of my last appointment, I’d gained 33 pounds. I’ve never seen the scale so high in my life. I’m 20 pounds heavier than I’ve ever been. I know, I’m PREGNANT. It’s still alarming to see the numbers. So, if you figure-out a pound a week for 13(ish) weeks… I cry.
It seems like it took forever for my uterus to finally pass the height of my belly button, but now it’s flown past it. It won’t be long now until L Bean is sticking his feet in my ribs. He's already trying to stick an arm out of me for ventilation.
I have a faint linea negra forming below my belly button. I first noticed it a couple weeks ago. No stretch marks (PLEASE stay that way). My belly button is still hanging tough as an inny, but I’m not sure how much longer it can hold-out. It looks like the timer could pop any day now.
I was in the kitchen at work getting coffee this morning (yes, I drink a cup of coffee a day. Yes, it is allowed. No, I don’t care what you have to say about it), when someone asked, “When is the big day?” To which I reply, “Mid-September.” I usually don’t tell work people September 14th because that’s the day before a big deadline, and I still feel a little guilty about it. He replies, “Hmmm, September, huh? I don’t knoooow. I’m not sure you’re going to make it that far!” Okay, what does that MEAN? Does my belly really look THAT big? I assure you that it’s not. I have serious belly envy of the women in my birth class. We’re all around the same due date, and they’re bellies would whoop my belly in a fist fight. Are you referring to my shelf of a butt or my luscious thighs? If so they don’t appreciate being talked about as if they’re not in the room.
If I hear, “I bet you’re LOVING this heat!” or “I bet you’re just DYING in this heat!” or “I bet you’re just MISERABLE in this heat!” one more time, heads are going to roll.
Funny story: At the beginning of my pregnancy, my mom told me about the benefits of rubbing something rough on your nipples to shape-them-up for the abuse they’ll take. A rough terry cloth towel will due. She did this and had no discomfort breast feeding. Her friends did not do this and were miserable (I’m paraphrasing here). She calls me a few weeks ago and leaves this message on my cell phone: Have you been rubbing something rough on your niiiipples?!?! Something about it really will help. Love you, talk to you later, bye. I just about peed myself. Aren’t moms the best?
I am officially very pregnant because I go to the doctor every two weeks now. I have an appointment this Friday, and I find myself thinking, “Wait, I just had one of these.” Five weeks from now, I go to ONCE A WEEK. Oh, and around that time Doc will be sticking his arm up my who-ha. So psyched.
Did you know what women usually gain a pound a week in the last trimester (about half of which is baby putting on that adorable chub)? I haven’t discussed this in blogverse yet, but I’ve packed-on some poundage. I was five pounds over my usual when I got pregnant (stupid holidays), and then it was busy season (hello eating, sympathy/stress eating, no time to exercise, and more general eating). I’ve stopped looking at the scale, and I’ve requested that Mr. H not look; however, he deliberately disobeys each time, and then I end-up asking him about the damage anyway. As of my last appointment, I’d gained 33 pounds. I’ve never seen the scale so high in my life. I’m 20 pounds heavier than I’ve ever been. I know, I’m PREGNANT. It’s still alarming to see the numbers. So, if you figure-out a pound a week for 13(ish) weeks… I cry.
It seems like it took forever for my uterus to finally pass the height of my belly button, but now it’s flown past it. It won’t be long now until L Bean is sticking his feet in my ribs. He's already trying to stick an arm out of me for ventilation.
I have a faint linea negra forming below my belly button. I first noticed it a couple weeks ago. No stretch marks (PLEASE stay that way). My belly button is still hanging tough as an inny, but I’m not sure how much longer it can hold-out. It looks like the timer could pop any day now.
I was in the kitchen at work getting coffee this morning (yes, I drink a cup of coffee a day. Yes, it is allowed. No, I don’t care what you have to say about it), when someone asked, “When is the big day?” To which I reply, “Mid-September.” I usually don’t tell work people September 14th because that’s the day before a big deadline, and I still feel a little guilty about it. He replies, “Hmmm, September, huh? I don’t knoooow. I’m not sure you’re going to make it that far!” Okay, what does that MEAN? Does my belly really look THAT big? I assure you that it’s not. I have serious belly envy of the women in my birth class. We’re all around the same due date, and they’re bellies would whoop my belly in a fist fight. Are you referring to my shelf of a butt or my luscious thighs? If so they don’t appreciate being talked about as if they’re not in the room.
If I hear, “I bet you’re LOVING this heat!” or “I bet you’re just DYING in this heat!” or “I bet you’re just MISERABLE in this heat!” one more time, heads are going to roll.
Funny story: At the beginning of my pregnancy, my mom told me about the benefits of rubbing something rough on your nipples to shape-them-up for the abuse they’ll take. A rough terry cloth towel will due. She did this and had no discomfort breast feeding. Her friends did not do this and were miserable (I’m paraphrasing here). She calls me a few weeks ago and leaves this message on my cell phone: Have you been rubbing something rough on your niiiipples?!?! Something about it really will help. Love you, talk to you later, bye. I just about peed myself. Aren’t moms the best?
Stating the obvious
Picture this: It’s 8:30 am, and I’m at work. I’ve been at work since 7:15 am. I’ve had my daily cup of coffee, and I am willing my brain to shift into the “on” position. Okay, now that the scene is set, I get this: “Are you feeling okay today? You look really tired. You have bags under your eyes that I didn’t notice yesterday!”
First, thanks, dear Friend, for pointing-out the obvious. I’m going on a couple months straight of “fat days,” and now I’m self-conscious of my tired eye sacks. Its 8:30 AM on a Wednesday, so naturally I’m tired. Additionally, I’m cookin’ a BABY over here - no further explanation needed. I can literally FEEL the heavy bags under my eyes, so your reminder is unnecessary.
Second, something seems backwards to me. When I’m asked how I’ve been feeling, my response is usually, “Great. I’m tired all of the time, but otherwise I feel great.” If I get, “Oh, you’re just being prepped for the lack of sleep that ensues once baby gets here,” I’m going to slap someone (okay, not really. But I’ll picture it in my head and smile to myself). If I’m going to be a walking zombie for the first few weeks, then shouldn’t I be storing-up extra hours in my sleep bank NOW? I wish. Have I mentioned how much I love to sleep?
"They" say you get a boost of energy in the second trimester and some in the third trimester. LIES! I'm still waiting for that boost. I'm motivated and antsy to get stuff (anything) done, but I don't have the stamina. I feel the need to clean, organize, and simplify everything in our house. I suppose I'm nesting. At this rate, though, there won't be anything left for me to nest in a couple weeks.
Here’s a pregnancy Catch 22: You’re supposed to drink more water (which hasn’t been tough because we were already a no or rare soda household and water is our drink of choice). When you’re pregnant, your growing uterus engages in a constant game of Mercy with your bladder, and here’s a hint: the house (in this case, the uterus) ALWAYS wins. Cause and effect dictates that by drinking more water you’re going to pee more. But throw in an engorged uterus, and your bathroom trips are sent into OVERDRIVE. And P.s.: Don’t even try to gamble and wait just a little longer. I think you can figure-out what will happen.
Not that I’m complaining – Okay, I guess I am. But just a little – I love being pregnant, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I get cranky when I'm tired - just ask Mr. H (or my mom).
First, thanks, dear Friend, for pointing-out the obvious. I’m going on a couple months straight of “fat days,” and now I’m self-conscious of my tired eye sacks. Its 8:30 AM on a Wednesday, so naturally I’m tired. Additionally, I’m cookin’ a BABY over here - no further explanation needed. I can literally FEEL the heavy bags under my eyes, so your reminder is unnecessary.
Second, something seems backwards to me. When I’m asked how I’ve been feeling, my response is usually, “Great. I’m tired all of the time, but otherwise I feel great.” If I get, “Oh, you’re just being prepped for the lack of sleep that ensues once baby gets here,” I’m going to slap someone (okay, not really. But I’ll picture it in my head and smile to myself). If I’m going to be a walking zombie for the first few weeks, then shouldn’t I be storing-up extra hours in my sleep bank NOW? I wish. Have I mentioned how much I love to sleep?
"They" say you get a boost of energy in the second trimester and some in the third trimester. LIES! I'm still waiting for that boost. I'm motivated and antsy to get stuff (anything) done, but I don't have the stamina. I feel the need to clean, organize, and simplify everything in our house. I suppose I'm nesting. At this rate, though, there won't be anything left for me to nest in a couple weeks.
Here’s a pregnancy Catch 22: You’re supposed to drink more water (which hasn’t been tough because we were already a no or rare soda household and water is our drink of choice). When you’re pregnant, your growing uterus engages in a constant game of Mercy with your bladder, and here’s a hint: the house (in this case, the uterus) ALWAYS wins. Cause and effect dictates that by drinking more water you’re going to pee more. But throw in an engorged uterus, and your bathroom trips are sent into OVERDRIVE. And P.s.: Don’t even try to gamble and wait just a little longer. I think you can figure-out what will happen.
Not that I’m complaining – Okay, I guess I am. But just a little – I love being pregnant, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I get cranky when I'm tired - just ask Mr. H (or my mom).
Sometimes I feel like a caged animal.
Sometimes I feel like a caged animal. I walk past people at work (or on the street or in a store), and I feel scrutinized. First, eyes fall to my belly as assessments of growth take place. Second, eyes rise to my chest, and I can literally see the brains processing, “Well THOSE have certainly gotten bigger.” I just hope the third isn’t a turned head as I walk away assessing other growth that’s taken place. I’m a private person. I prefer to keep my private life private, unless I decide to let you in. Currently, my body is giving-away my secrets! Drat, Body. What are you THINKING?! It would be really awesome if, for the first time in months, people would meet my EYES first. After that, feel free to make your assessments. At least you made me feel human for .389 seconds. Or, if you can’t manage that, learn to be more covert with your stares because I CAN SEE YOU.
You know what else is uncomfortable lately? Sleeping. Yes, the time has arrived where falling and staying asleep takes a lot of work and prayer. However, I’m not waking-up as often as I did in first trimester (PHEW). It’s tough to find a position where all parts of me are comfortable. That first night of back or stomach sleep will be so delicious.
Happy third trimester, L Bean! I oscillate between wishing the weeks away because I’m so ready to meet him and asking him to stay-in longer because I’m so not ready. We had a mini-road trip yesterday (we went to Ikea!). On the way home, Mr. H said, “I find myself wishing he’d get here already because I just want to hold him, but I feel like we should probably enjoy these last couple months because it won’t be just us for at least 18 years.” GULP. Well said, Husband. I can’t pin-point the current source of my anxiety and nerves. I think it’s mostly money. Babies are expensive. And we’re the first of our friends to have kids, so friendships are changing and will change. I want to make some mommy friends, but I’m not the best at making new friends. But we also have so much to look forward to. Yesterday, on that very same road trip, we talked about what we want to do next year for Mother’s and Father’s Days. Picnics at Maymont. Trips to the Metro Zoo. Kiddie pool in the back yard. And now when I walk into the nursery I can almost picture myself sitting in the glider with L Bean in my arms. Almost. It’s still hard to wrap my head around the fact that I’m going to be a mom. Most days, I still feel 16.
Latest milestone? Hiccups! I noticed them for the first time two weeks ago in a training session at work, and I’ve felt them every day since. Now I feel them multiple times during the day (like right now and in the middle of the night last night). They last 5 to 10 minutes. I can tell when he gets annoyed by them because he’ll start to twist and thrash.
I have a funny aside to share: Occasionally it literally feels like L Bean is trying to stick a foot out of my vagina. A few days ago, L Bean made such a maneuver, and I made some sort of heavy breathing or grunting noise that got Josh’s attention. He asked if everything was okay, and I explained what it felt like his son was trying to do with his foot. He simply replied, “Maybe he’s hot. You know how you stick your foot out of the covers at night when you’re hot? Maybe he just needs some air.” It makes sense. I know that I’m hot (ALL OF THE TIME), so L Bean must be hot too. Thanks for your infinite wisdom, Mr. H.
Ikea update coming soon! I also ordered a book that I am super excited about and can’t wait to share.
You know what else is uncomfortable lately? Sleeping. Yes, the time has arrived where falling and staying asleep takes a lot of work and prayer. However, I’m not waking-up as often as I did in first trimester (PHEW). It’s tough to find a position where all parts of me are comfortable. That first night of back or stomach sleep will be so delicious.
Happy third trimester, L Bean! I oscillate between wishing the weeks away because I’m so ready to meet him and asking him to stay-in longer because I’m so not ready. We had a mini-road trip yesterday (we went to Ikea!). On the way home, Mr. H said, “I find myself wishing he’d get here already because I just want to hold him, but I feel like we should probably enjoy these last couple months because it won’t be just us for at least 18 years.” GULP. Well said, Husband. I can’t pin-point the current source of my anxiety and nerves. I think it’s mostly money. Babies are expensive. And we’re the first of our friends to have kids, so friendships are changing and will change. I want to make some mommy friends, but I’m not the best at making new friends. But we also have so much to look forward to. Yesterday, on that very same road trip, we talked about what we want to do next year for Mother’s and Father’s Days. Picnics at Maymont. Trips to the Metro Zoo. Kiddie pool in the back yard. And now when I walk into the nursery I can almost picture myself sitting in the glider with L Bean in my arms. Almost. It’s still hard to wrap my head around the fact that I’m going to be a mom. Most days, I still feel 16.
Latest milestone? Hiccups! I noticed them for the first time two weeks ago in a training session at work, and I’ve felt them every day since. Now I feel them multiple times during the day (like right now and in the middle of the night last night). They last 5 to 10 minutes. I can tell when he gets annoyed by them because he’ll start to twist and thrash.
I have a funny aside to share: Occasionally it literally feels like L Bean is trying to stick a foot out of my vagina. A few days ago, L Bean made such a maneuver, and I made some sort of heavy breathing or grunting noise that got Josh’s attention. He asked if everything was okay, and I explained what it felt like his son was trying to do with his foot. He simply replied, “Maybe he’s hot. You know how you stick your foot out of the covers at night when you’re hot? Maybe he just needs some air.” It makes sense. I know that I’m hot (ALL OF THE TIME), so L Bean must be hot too. Thanks for your infinite wisdom, Mr. H.
Ikea update coming soon! I also ordered a book that I am super excited about and can’t wait to share.
I feel like I ran six miles yesterday.
I woke-up this morning to a familiar feeling. Sore feet and restless legs. I've woken-up to this feeling many times on a Sunday morning... just for different reasons (like RUNNING - oh how I miss thee). What did I do yesterday that caused all this soreness? I stood (a lot) in heels.
Pitiful, I know. But those heels here HIGH. And hello, I haven't worn a pair since December. When busy season starts-up, I retire my heels for comfy flats. I run around the office much more and for much longer than normal during those three hellish months. I learned quickly during my first busy season to retire the heels early (one of my bosses swears it's because I got married and comfortable. He's definitely got the second part right, but I still deny the first). I made it through all of the important stuff and then those shoes were OFF. I'm excited for when I'm not carrying around all this extra weight because those shoes were fab.
We stayed-out past 10 pm last night, which quite a feat. And let me say this: I didn't crack first (brushes off shoulder)! Although, I will say that I barely remember showering and getting in bed. And I definitely don't remember laying in bed waiting to fall asleep (which is the BEST). And ever better: We slept until 9:15 am (brushes off other shoulder). The dogs woke-up at 6:15 and were let-out, and I thought for sure that we were up for good. Sleep found us once again, and I woke-up to a clock that read 9:14. Such a treat. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the line we grew-up and stopped sleeping our weekends away (yeah, yeah, I should get used to it. I KNOW. Thank you peanut gallery).
On a final note, congratulations to Lincoln and Natalie Mitchell! What a great day, what a great wedding, and what a great couple.
Pitiful, I know. But those heels here HIGH. And hello, I haven't worn a pair since December. When busy season starts-up, I retire my heels for comfy flats. I run around the office much more and for much longer than normal during those three hellish months. I learned quickly during my first busy season to retire the heels early (one of my bosses swears it's because I got married and comfortable. He's definitely got the second part right, but I still deny the first). I made it through all of the important stuff and then those shoes were OFF. I'm excited for when I'm not carrying around all this extra weight because those shoes were fab.
We stayed-out past 10 pm last night, which quite a feat. And let me say this: I didn't crack first (brushes off shoulder)! Although, I will say that I barely remember showering and getting in bed. And I definitely don't remember laying in bed waiting to fall asleep (which is the BEST). And ever better: We slept until 9:15 am (brushes off other shoulder). The dogs woke-up at 6:15 and were let-out, and I thought for sure that we were up for good. Sleep found us once again, and I woke-up to a clock that read 9:14. Such a treat. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the line we grew-up and stopped sleeping our weekends away (yeah, yeah, I should get used to it. I KNOW. Thank you peanut gallery).
On a final note, congratulations to Lincoln and Natalie Mitchell! What a great day, what a great wedding, and what a great couple.
Oh sweet delight, I have BOOBS!
I’m at the belly-point where I’ve almost out-grown all of my pre-pregnancy tops (my love of shirts that are a size or two too big has really come in handy over the past few months). Even my two-foot stack of beloved v-neck t-shirts stretch tightly over my stomach (but I still wear them because I LOVE them. Plus, they make my feel pregnant). A few more weeks of this, and I’ll have five shirts that fit me. I’m trying to motivate myself to go shopping before that happens to avoid a 6:30 am “I’m having a fat/pregnancy/I’M SO BIG” meltdown. It’s not working nearly as well as it did with the painting.
Natalie, avert your eyes. Just skip this paragraph. Everything will be okay, I PROMISE. My best and oldest friend, Natalie is getting married on June 12th, and I’m lucky enough to be her matron of honor (speech = already written!). I’d only been with-Liam for about six weeks when she sent-out the bridesmaids dress email. CRAP, was my first thought. She was one of the first people to hear the news, and we devised a plan. We pick-out a great wrap dress from J. Crew in the same fabric and color as the other bridesmaids. It doesn’t scream SHE’S WITH-CHILD, which I really appreciate. In fact, I plan to alter the dress down-to-size once I’ve shrunk back to normal (OPTIMISM at its best). Since I had no clue how pregnant twenty-six weeks would be for me, I ordered a few sizes up (normally a size 2 in J. Crew, so I ordered a size 8). I tried that bad-boy on last weekend to see how much it would need to be taken in. My answer? NONE. I couldn’t believe it. It snapped, but barely. Thankfully, it’s a wrap dress, so the alterations to make it bigger should be fairly non-invasive. I whispered down to Liam, asking him very nicely to grow slowly over the next four weeks. I gave him permission to go nuts on June 13th. I can’t lie, I panicked. Josh was there to calm me back down to earth (his nonchalance always amazes me, in such a good way). I’m still panicked – don’t think Josh is THAT good. And I’ll continue to be panicked until I put the dress on in 22 days and it snaps, wraps, and fully covers all my goodies. All will be well (I’ve been praying VERY hard on this).
My belly isn’t the only thing that’s grown. Remember that butt I had in high school? Oh yeah, it’s back. Except this time it’s not the result of soccer seven days a week (I’m THAT girl who lost ten pounds her freshman year of college because I wasn’t being as active). I also have the thighs that I had in high school – the ones from all of those quick sprints. Only this time they’re not as firm. The third non-belly item that’s grown is a much, MUCH welcomed growth. I have BOOBS. Mercifully, these were the first things to grow, so my new butt and thighs delivered a softer blow to my ego. Because I had BOOBS. I went bra shopping a couple months ago and bought a C-cup bra. OH SWEET DELIGHT. It’s already time for an upgrade to a D-cup. Wait, WHAT?! It’s like Christmas.
On a boob side-note: This morning I put-on my C-cup bra and pulled-on my black tank top and grey short-sleeved cardigan. I walked downstairs to pack my lunch, and use the bathroom one last time before leaving for work. The bright, enclosed light of the downstairs bathroom revealed my nude bra in all its glory shining through my black tank top (THANK YOU bathroom lights). Easy fix. Where is that black bra?? You know, the B-CUP. I managed to wrangle my D-cup boobs into the black B-cup bra and pulled-on the tank top once again. You can’t see it (because the tank isn’t low-cut) but my cleavage (so THIS is what cleavage looks like!) looks GREAT today. But my new friends are screaming for support. Maybe we’ll stop-by VC after Motherhood Maternity.
Natalie, avert your eyes. Just skip this paragraph. Everything will be okay, I PROMISE. My best and oldest friend, Natalie is getting married on June 12th, and I’m lucky enough to be her matron of honor (speech = already written!). I’d only been with-Liam for about six weeks when she sent-out the bridesmaids dress email. CRAP, was my first thought. She was one of the first people to hear the news, and we devised a plan. We pick-out a great wrap dress from J. Crew in the same fabric and color as the other bridesmaids. It doesn’t scream SHE’S WITH-CHILD, which I really appreciate. In fact, I plan to alter the dress down-to-size once I’ve shrunk back to normal (OPTIMISM at its best). Since I had no clue how pregnant twenty-six weeks would be for me, I ordered a few sizes up (normally a size 2 in J. Crew, so I ordered a size 8). I tried that bad-boy on last weekend to see how much it would need to be taken in. My answer? NONE. I couldn’t believe it. It snapped, but barely. Thankfully, it’s a wrap dress, so the alterations to make it bigger should be fairly non-invasive. I whispered down to Liam, asking him very nicely to grow slowly over the next four weeks. I gave him permission to go nuts on June 13th. I can’t lie, I panicked. Josh was there to calm me back down to earth (his nonchalance always amazes me, in such a good way). I’m still panicked – don’t think Josh is THAT good. And I’ll continue to be panicked until I put the dress on in 22 days and it snaps, wraps, and fully covers all my goodies. All will be well (I’ve been praying VERY hard on this).
My belly isn’t the only thing that’s grown. Remember that butt I had in high school? Oh yeah, it’s back. Except this time it’s not the result of soccer seven days a week (I’m THAT girl who lost ten pounds her freshman year of college because I wasn’t being as active). I also have the thighs that I had in high school – the ones from all of those quick sprints. Only this time they’re not as firm. The third non-belly item that’s grown is a much, MUCH welcomed growth. I have BOOBS. Mercifully, these were the first things to grow, so my new butt and thighs delivered a softer blow to my ego. Because I had BOOBS. I went bra shopping a couple months ago and bought a C-cup bra. OH SWEET DELIGHT. It’s already time for an upgrade to a D-cup. Wait, WHAT?! It’s like Christmas.
On a boob side-note: This morning I put-on my C-cup bra and pulled-on my black tank top and grey short-sleeved cardigan. I walked downstairs to pack my lunch, and use the bathroom one last time before leaving for work. The bright, enclosed light of the downstairs bathroom revealed my nude bra in all its glory shining through my black tank top (THANK YOU bathroom lights). Easy fix. Where is that black bra?? You know, the B-CUP. I managed to wrangle my D-cup boobs into the black B-cup bra and pulled-on the tank top once again. You can’t see it (because the tank isn’t low-cut) but my cleavage (so THIS is what cleavage looks like!) looks GREAT today. But my new friends are screaming for support. Maybe we’ll stop-by VC after Motherhood Maternity.
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