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 Pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Health(ier) Eating Habits
I am constantly hungry, so I sometimes feel like eating/planning what I’m going to eat is a full-time job. Packing lunch/snacks takes pre-planning when it comes to grocery shopping (we’re huge proponents of packing lunch: (1) It’s cheaper going out to lunch, (2) it’s usually healthier, and (3) you can control portions easily). I find that my hungriest time of the day is before lunchtime. No matter what I eat for breakfast, I’m STARVING by 9:00 am. This may partially be because I eat breakfast around 6:30 am. For the longest time it’s been a bowl of cereal because that’s quick and easy. I’m beginning to think that I may need to ramp-up by breakfast routine. Oatmeal with fresh fruit and nuts on top or eggs, fruit, and toast. I’d probably get a lot more nutrients from either of those than I do from my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (which I LOVE. Oh, and Trix. And Lucky Charms. We’re such children). But making breakfast would require me to wake-up earlier, as in BEFORE 6:00 am. And there’d be those pesky extra dishes each day (btw, I HATE doing the dishes. If Mr. H would do all of the dishes and vacuum the stairs for the rest of our lives, I would be one happy camper). And I’d be willing to bet that I would still commit redrum for food by 9:00 am.
Yesterday morning I had a bowl of plain yogurt, strawberries, and granola at 9:30 am. By 10:30 am, I was right back to the hunger reminders (light-headed, headache, cranky) of 9:15 am. I am definitely more hungry now that I’m pregnant, but I’ve always been hungry ALL OF THE TIME. And I’ve always been a grazer during the day. Unless I go-out to lunch with co-workers, I don’t eat a big meal at lunch time. I just snack my way through the day, and have a small portion of dinner leftovers or a sandwich at lunchtime. Maybe I’m not eating the right things to fill me up? Either way, I’m feeling the need to change-up my eating habits.
Mr. H and I have always been decent eaters. We don’t snack when we’re at home. I make dinner almost every night. We pack our lunches. We eat wheat bread, yogurt, and fresh fruit like it’s our job. One of our favorite snacks is hummus and whole wheat pita. Mr. H even switched from mayo on his sandwich to hummus. He doesn’t drink any alcohol, and I (pre-pregnancy) drink little. We don’t drink much soda, except we usually have a bottle of Ginger Ale in the fridge. It’s a lot of water, milk, juice, and G2 for us. Even though we’re not terribly unhealthy, I feel like there’s a lot of room for growth. One major set-back for me is this: I’m not very food adventurous. And I don’t like onions. As in, I HATE them. Cooked, raw, sautéed into submission – hate them. Mr. H will literally try anything once. And if it’s not his favorite, he’ll eat it anyway (Please, Lord, let our son have his eating habits). So naturally I hate him too.
I’ve been reading a lot of fitness/food/healthy living blogs lately, and I’m feeling inspired. Not inspired enough to run out to Whole Foods and buy-up the whole store, but I’m feeling encouraged. Plus, changes like this don’t go well when you make a major switch overnight. The process needs to be gradual if it’s really going to stick. And maybe the process has already started; I’m in the beginning, consideration phase. We’re planning a Saturday morning trip to a local farmer’s market, so hopefully we’re taking a step in the right direction. I have big plans for zucchini bread/muffins this weekend!
I also have a big dream for next summer: I want to plant a veggie garden in our backyard. This is a BIG dream: (1) Because next summer is really far away, (2) We'll have a kid under one, (3) I'm really not in to yard work, and (4) I tend to kill plants easily. Either way, I still have the dream. We're not big tomato fans (I want to try and change this), but I figure we HAVE to plant at least one tomato plant. Other than tomatoes, I'm thinking: green beans (FAV), zucchini, yellow squash, red/green peppers, and maybe some lettuce? I don't want to go too crazy. Is corn easy to grow? I've done a little reading, and most of these veggies listed needed warm weather and full sun, which shouldn't be a problem. Mr. H has even agreed to help me build an enclosure of sorts. Check back in one year for progress (just THINK about how different things are going to be in one year - wowsa).
Side note: I’ve added a couple pages to the blog. I’m working on an “About Us” page. Hopefully I’ll get it done before baby comes, but we’re a little preoccupied right now :)
Yesterday morning I had a bowl of plain yogurt, strawberries, and granola at 9:30 am. By 10:30 am, I was right back to the hunger reminders (light-headed, headache, cranky) of 9:15 am. I am definitely more hungry now that I’m pregnant, but I’ve always been hungry ALL OF THE TIME. And I’ve always been a grazer during the day. Unless I go-out to lunch with co-workers, I don’t eat a big meal at lunch time. I just snack my way through the day, and have a small portion of dinner leftovers or a sandwich at lunchtime. Maybe I’m not eating the right things to fill me up? Either way, I’m feeling the need to change-up my eating habits.
Mr. H and I have always been decent eaters. We don’t snack when we’re at home. I make dinner almost every night. We pack our lunches. We eat wheat bread, yogurt, and fresh fruit like it’s our job. One of our favorite snacks is hummus and whole wheat pita. Mr. H even switched from mayo on his sandwich to hummus. He doesn’t drink any alcohol, and I (pre-pregnancy) drink little. We don’t drink much soda, except we usually have a bottle of Ginger Ale in the fridge. It’s a lot of water, milk, juice, and G2 for us. Even though we’re not terribly unhealthy, I feel like there’s a lot of room for growth. One major set-back for me is this: I’m not very food adventurous. And I don’t like onions. As in, I HATE them. Cooked, raw, sautéed into submission – hate them. Mr. H will literally try anything once. And if it’s not his favorite, he’ll eat it anyway (Please, Lord, let our son have his eating habits). So naturally I hate him too.
I’ve been reading a lot of fitness/food/healthy living blogs lately, and I’m feeling inspired. Not inspired enough to run out to Whole Foods and buy-up the whole store, but I’m feeling encouraged. Plus, changes like this don’t go well when you make a major switch overnight. The process needs to be gradual if it’s really going to stick. And maybe the process has already started; I’m in the beginning, consideration phase. We’re planning a Saturday morning trip to a local farmer’s market, so hopefully we’re taking a step in the right direction. I have big plans for zucchini bread/muffins this weekend!
I also have a big dream for next summer: I want to plant a veggie garden in our backyard. This is a BIG dream: (1) Because next summer is really far away, (2) We'll have a kid under one, (3) I'm really not in to yard work, and (4) I tend to kill plants easily. Either way, I still have the dream. We're not big tomato fans (I want to try and change this), but I figure we HAVE to plant at least one tomato plant. Other than tomatoes, I'm thinking: green beans (FAV), zucchini, yellow squash, red/green peppers, and maybe some lettuce? I don't want to go too crazy. Is corn easy to grow? I've done a little reading, and most of these veggies listed needed warm weather and full sun, which shouldn't be a problem. Mr. H has even agreed to help me build an enclosure of sorts. Check back in one year for progress (just THINK about how different things are going to be in one year - wowsa).
Side note: I’ve added a couple pages to the blog. I’m working on an “About Us” page. Hopefully I’ll get it done before baby comes, but we’re a little preoccupied right now :)
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?
Can't we snuggle first?
I had an awesome conversation with a pregnant person whom I’d just met this weekend. She asked when I was due, and then IMMEDIATELY asked if I was having a natural birth in such an accusatory tone that I felt like I was twelve being scolded by my mom. Oh, um, hi, my name is Betsy. I have a husband, two dogs, and two cats. I like long walks on the beach and candle lit dinners. I DON’T KNOW YOU, why are you asking me this?
The 5+ seconds it took me to recover and muster-up an answer were not a big enough clue that I was a taken aback. I answer, and crack a joke (because that’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable) to the other (much less invasive) person sitting next to me. Laugh, laugh, laugh, avoid eye contact with invasive pregnant lady, and hope the conversation ends. “Well, I………..” Oh geez, I strap myself in for awesomeness. She goes on to explain IN DETAIL about how she wants to avoid a C-section (um, don’t we all?), how she WAS delivering at Henrico’s Doctor’s Hospital but NOW she’s delivering at MCV because HDH has SUCH a high c-section rate. She told me about her sucky old doctor who didn’t answer her questions and just wanted to get her in and out of his office, and raved about her awesome new mid-wives. There's more, but I'll spare you the onslaught. After she had unloaded her unsolicited fill, she asked, “So, where are you delivering?” DROP BOMB: Henrico Doctor’s Hospital. AWKWARD.
Does she back down? NO. She doesn’t even flinch. I explain that I love my doctor, and that I trust him. I tell her about how I’ve had an ultrasound every time I’ve gone in (and I’ve only been charged for two). OH REALLY?!?! Yes, my doctor is warm and fuzzy, he answers all of my questions, and I’ve never felt like he was rushing to get through our appointment. He also said he could deliver my anywhere in the area, but we decided HDH is closest and most convenient. And then I say something along the lines of, “How I deliver is out of my hands (as in, it’s in God’s hands).” WHAT?!?! “My delivery is out of my hands.” HUH?!?! “My delivery is in God’s hands.” OH. Conversation ends.
What is it about pregnancy that makes people poke and prod and offer copious amounts of unsolicited advice? The advice part isn’t so bad. Babies make people excited, and they want to help. I get totally get it. It’s when someone questions me in a competitive (almost accusatory), I’m better than you manner that makes me ANGRY. I prefer to be wooed prior to such invasive conversations. Maybe I’m needy, but can’t we just snuggle first?
To quote one of my favorite people, “She was so NOT awesome.”
I want a shirt that says:
I’m due in September.
I feel GREAT.
It’s a Boy.
His name is Liam Axel.
My birth plan is NOYB (none of your business) because I don’t know you.
Don’t touch, my husband bites.
Mondays make me cranky, can you tell? And we stayed-up WAY too late (11 PM, crazy) last night watching a movie. It was commercial free, score! Pregnant, tried, cranky, HOT Betsy- WATCH OUT WORLD.
The 5+ seconds it took me to recover and muster-up an answer were not a big enough clue that I was a taken aback. I answer, and crack a joke (because that’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable) to the other (much less invasive) person sitting next to me. Laugh, laugh, laugh, avoid eye contact with invasive pregnant lady, and hope the conversation ends. “Well, I………..” Oh geez, I strap myself in for awesomeness. She goes on to explain IN DETAIL about how she wants to avoid a C-section (um, don’t we all?), how she WAS delivering at Henrico’s Doctor’s Hospital but NOW she’s delivering at MCV because HDH has SUCH a high c-section rate. She told me about her sucky old doctor who didn’t answer her questions and just wanted to get her in and out of his office, and raved about her awesome new mid-wives. There's more, but I'll spare you the onslaught. After she had unloaded her unsolicited fill, she asked, “So, where are you delivering?” DROP BOMB: Henrico Doctor’s Hospital. AWKWARD.
Does she back down? NO. She doesn’t even flinch. I explain that I love my doctor, and that I trust him. I tell her about how I’ve had an ultrasound every time I’ve gone in (and I’ve only been charged for two). OH REALLY?!?! Yes, my doctor is warm and fuzzy, he answers all of my questions, and I’ve never felt like he was rushing to get through our appointment. He also said he could deliver my anywhere in the area, but we decided HDH is closest and most convenient. And then I say something along the lines of, “How I deliver is out of my hands (as in, it’s in God’s hands).” WHAT?!?! “My delivery is out of my hands.” HUH?!?! “My delivery is in God’s hands.” OH. Conversation ends.
What is it about pregnancy that makes people poke and prod and offer copious amounts of unsolicited advice? The advice part isn’t so bad. Babies make people excited, and they want to help. I get totally get it. It’s when someone questions me in a competitive (almost accusatory), I’m better than you manner that makes me ANGRY. I prefer to be wooed prior to such invasive conversations. Maybe I’m needy, but can’t we just snuggle first?
To quote one of my favorite people, “She was so NOT awesome.”
I want a shirt that says:
I’m due in September.
I feel GREAT.
It’s a Boy.
His name is Liam Axel.
My birth plan is NOYB (none of your business) because I don’t know you.
Don’t touch, my husband bites.
Mondays make me cranky, can you tell? And we stayed-up WAY too late (11 PM, crazy) last night watching a movie. It was commercial free, score! Pregnant, tried, cranky, HOT Betsy- WATCH OUT WORLD.
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).
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.
Braxton WHO?!?!
Yesterday I MIGHT have experienced my first Braxton Hicks contraction (but how would I know, I’ve never felt one before). My stomach felt tight (tighter than normal. Things are really starting to stretch) for about 15 seconds, and then it relaxed. It didn’t hurt. It was WEIRD. It was ALARMING. But most pregnancy-related things that I had yet to experience were weird and alarming the first time. However, the tightness could also have been related to gas. Because let’s be real here – pregnancy gas can easily persist for 15+ seconds (and no, the expulsion of the gas (how very PC of me) does not last 15+ seconds. Oh, to be so lucky. Half of the time it’s all the tightness without the payoff).
Liam’s movements have gotten to the strength of being occasionally uncomfortable. They don’t necessarily hurt, but they’re rather forceful. It’s like he’s saying, “HEY, MOM! You haven’t thought about me in .25 seconds, so here’s a little reminder that I’M STILL IN HERE!” I write about this now, because he’s sending me reminders right now. Lately his movements are less like kicks, twitches, and punches, and more like he’s rolling-around trying to get comfortable. Sometimes I’ll felt a distinct pressure, and I find myself pressing against what I picture to be Liam’s butt or head. Usually he readjusts after I gently push-back at him. The pressure doesn’t hurt, it’s just weird. And like I said before, anything weird eventually transitions into alarming. At 25 weeks, he’s (based on averages) 1.5 pounds and 13.6 inches long. I should probably get used to the pressure and growing discomfort, as space is going to get more and more limited. Bring it on, little man!
We’re going furniture shopping with my mom tonight, and we are beyond excited. The nursery is painted, and the closet is starting to fill-up with baby stuff, but it still hasn’t hit me that a BABY will one day live in that room. I think furniture will really drive the point home. Plus, my initial reaction to the fully dried nursery was that the color was too bright. I’m hoping the presence of dark furniture and things hanging on the walls will soften the color; although, the color matches the green in his bedding perfectly. Personally, I think it really boils down to this: I’m color-phobic when it comes to paint. Most of the downstairs is a shade of brown or tan with furniture and pictures/paintings adding color. Our bedroom is a deep, soothing shade of green. The guest bathroom is khaki with the color being added through the shower curtain. The office will be a slate/deep brownish/suede color. And then there’s the nursery. HELLO GREEN. It freaks me out. He isn’t even here yet, and Liam is already rocking my world :)
Liam’s movements have gotten to the strength of being occasionally uncomfortable. They don’t necessarily hurt, but they’re rather forceful. It’s like he’s saying, “HEY, MOM! You haven’t thought about me in .25 seconds, so here’s a little reminder that I’M STILL IN HERE!” I write about this now, because he’s sending me reminders right now. Lately his movements are less like kicks, twitches, and punches, and more like he’s rolling-around trying to get comfortable. Sometimes I’ll felt a distinct pressure, and I find myself pressing against what I picture to be Liam’s butt or head. Usually he readjusts after I gently push-back at him. The pressure doesn’t hurt, it’s just weird. And like I said before, anything weird eventually transitions into alarming. At 25 weeks, he’s (based on averages) 1.5 pounds and 13.6 inches long. I should probably get used to the pressure and growing discomfort, as space is going to get more and more limited. Bring it on, little man!
We’re going furniture shopping with my mom tonight, and we are beyond excited. The nursery is painted, and the closet is starting to fill-up with baby stuff, but it still hasn’t hit me that a BABY will one day live in that room. I think furniture will really drive the point home. Plus, my initial reaction to the fully dried nursery was that the color was too bright. I’m hoping the presence of dark furniture and things hanging on the walls will soften the color; although, the color matches the green in his bedding perfectly. Personally, I think it really boils down to this: I’m color-phobic when it comes to paint. Most of the downstairs is a shade of brown or tan with furniture and pictures/paintings adding color. Our bedroom is a deep, soothing shade of green. The guest bathroom is khaki with the color being added through the shower curtain. The office will be a slate/deep brownish/suede color. And then there’s the nursery. HELLO GREEN. It freaks me out. He isn’t even here yet, and Liam is already rocking my world :)
Oh that's just GREAT
The number one question I get asked nowadays is, “How are you feeeeeeling?” or “How are you dooooing?” Which really means, “How is the pregnancy going?” My answer is always, “I feel great!” And it’s not “great!” as in, I’m trying to appease you with a happy answer but I really feel like death. Pre-pregnancy I usually answered such a question with “good” or “fine” most of the time for fear that an in-depth conversation about myself would ensue. So when I tell people I feel great, I can’t help but wonder if they think I’m giving them a canned answer. I really do feel GREAT. This is how my pregnancy has gone thus far:
During the first trimester I was tired, very tired. More tired than I’ve ever been in my life (if you know me well, you know this is saying a lot. I sleep A LOT, and I am tired A LOT by nature). This excessive tiredness was probably more due to the pregnancy + 12 to 14 hour days/working six days a week work schedule. Other than being tired, I was GREAT. Hungry a lot. Either not pooping enough or pooping too much (TMI, BETSY!). But GREAT.
During second trimester I am less all-around tired and more I get tired easily. To cope, I take breaks during errands and chores. I was less hungry, but now I’m starting to be more hungry again (I know the correct word is “hungrier” but I want to keep the sentence structure parallel, people!). I’m still pooping too much or too little (hopefully this ends by Liam’s birthday because I’d really like to avoid an enema and pooping on my poor doctor. This weekend my mom laughed (a rather uncomfortable laugh, probably more so related to her disbelief that I was talking so candidly about pooping in front of my stepdad, her, and Josh) and replied, “Betsy, you’re so not going to care.” She’s probably right. Because mother’s ALWAYS ARE), but it’s no big deal. My abdomen is starting to feel tight, but what do you expect? There’s a BABY in there (one that is roughly the size of an ear of corn). These days, I fill-up quickly during meals, as stomach expansion has given-way to uterus expansion. Case in point: I ate too much for dinner last night. I got Josh’s attention, pointed to the top of my growing belly, and said, ‘It hurts RIGHT HERE;” which is about six inches higher than normal (I’m trying not to truly ponder the logistics of the space issue because it kind of FREAKS me out). But I still feel all-around GREAT.
And then I almost feel guilty for feeling so great. I’ve read countless recaps of women whose pregnancies were hell or of women how had to endure unspeakable heartbreak. Believe me; I know that I am blessed. I thank God every day for a myriad of things related to this baby. Things have been SO great, that a scary thought occasionally slithers into my brain: that it’s bound to end sometime. And then I catch myself, and I realize: God is SO MUCH greater than that. I realize this, and I relax. My God loves me, and my God loves Liam. And my God is capable of such GREAT love. I realize this, and I enjoy the GREATNESS that he’s blessed me with.
Side note: Josh and I were worried that we would have fertility problems. Many of the women in my family struggled to get pregnant. Josh’s mom struggled to get pregnant. A few years ago, I ran into a problem that caused worries (but is no longer a worry – I told you God is GREAT). I tell you this to tell you the cutest story involving my husband: My stepmom sent me a package a few months ago (I was freshly pregnant) containing a book and a little plaque that says, “God answers prayers.” After opening the box, I asked Josh where he thought we should hang the plaque. Without skipping a beat, Josh answered, “Above the guest bedroom door because that’s going to be the baby’s room.” I was speechless for a few seconds (THAT’s how much it impacted me), and then I agreed that it would be the perfect location. Every time I see that little plaque hanging above Liam’s door I am reminded of just how true the words are.
During the first trimester I was tired, very tired. More tired than I’ve ever been in my life (if you know me well, you know this is saying a lot. I sleep A LOT, and I am tired A LOT by nature). This excessive tiredness was probably more due to the pregnancy + 12 to 14 hour days/working six days a week work schedule. Other than being tired, I was GREAT. Hungry a lot. Either not pooping enough or pooping too much (TMI, BETSY!). But GREAT.
During second trimester I am less all-around tired and more I get tired easily. To cope, I take breaks during errands and chores. I was less hungry, but now I’m starting to be more hungry again (I know the correct word is “hungrier” but I want to keep the sentence structure parallel, people!). I’m still pooping too much or too little (hopefully this ends by Liam’s birthday because I’d really like to avoid an enema and pooping on my poor doctor. This weekend my mom laughed (a rather uncomfortable laugh, probably more so related to her disbelief that I was talking so candidly about pooping in front of my stepdad, her, and Josh) and replied, “Betsy, you’re so not going to care.” She’s probably right. Because mother’s ALWAYS ARE), but it’s no big deal. My abdomen is starting to feel tight, but what do you expect? There’s a BABY in there (one that is roughly the size of an ear of corn). These days, I fill-up quickly during meals, as stomach expansion has given-way to uterus expansion. Case in point: I ate too much for dinner last night. I got Josh’s attention, pointed to the top of my growing belly, and said, ‘It hurts RIGHT HERE;” which is about six inches higher than normal (I’m trying not to truly ponder the logistics of the space issue because it kind of FREAKS me out). But I still feel all-around GREAT.
And then I almost feel guilty for feeling so great. I’ve read countless recaps of women whose pregnancies were hell or of women how had to endure unspeakable heartbreak. Believe me; I know that I am blessed. I thank God every day for a myriad of things related to this baby. Things have been SO great, that a scary thought occasionally slithers into my brain: that it’s bound to end sometime. And then I catch myself, and I realize: God is SO MUCH greater than that. I realize this, and I relax. My God loves me, and my God loves Liam. And my God is capable of such GREAT love. I realize this, and I enjoy the GREATNESS that he’s blessed me with.
Side note: Josh and I were worried that we would have fertility problems. Many of the women in my family struggled to get pregnant. Josh’s mom struggled to get pregnant. A few years ago, I ran into a problem that caused worries (but is no longer a worry – I told you God is GREAT). I tell you this to tell you the cutest story involving my husband: My stepmom sent me a package a few months ago (I was freshly pregnant) containing a book and a little plaque that says, “God answers prayers.” After opening the box, I asked Josh where he thought we should hang the plaque. Without skipping a beat, Josh answered, “Above the guest bedroom door because that’s going to be the baby’s room.” I was speechless for a few seconds (THAT’s how much it impacted me), and then I agreed that it would be the perfect location. Every time I see that little plaque hanging above Liam’s door I am reminded of just how true the words are.
I recognize this scene from Species II
I cannot get enough of Liam’s kicks. When he’s pushing eight pounds and round-housing my bladder, I imagine I’ll politely ask him to stop. But right now, I revel in every. single. kick. To be honest, before I’d felt that first flutter I thought it might freak me out. Think about it – something, that’s living by the way, is kicking you from the INSIDE. That thought conjures Alien and Species images. However, real experience was quite the opposite. We bond over these kicks. That’s all we can bond over. And Josh bonds with Liam through the kicks. And Josh and I bond with each other through the kicks. Last night we spent five minutes just watching my stomach twitch and bulge. We were exclaiming, “Whoa!” and “Good one!” the entire time. It doesn’t get much sweeter than this.
We had a check-up this morning (these happen every four weeks right now). My mom tagged-along. All is well with Liam! Doc said my fluid looks good (no, not THOSE fluids, amniotic fluid), my blood pressure is good, Liam’s heart rate is normal, and he informed us that he looked at the results from our anatomy work-up two weeks ago and all looks well. My glucose test (aka they take MORE blood... did I mention the time they took SEVEN viles?) is scheduled for 4 weeks from now. An hour before the test I’m supposed to drink a 10 ounce drink they sent home with me. Those 10 ounces contain an obscene amount of sugar. Doc’s advice: drink it as fast as possible. They load you with sugar to see how your pancreas reacts. This gives them an indication of your susceptibility to gestational diabetes.
Our plans for the tonight: the first stage of operation Prepare for Liam. We’re cleaning/clearing-out the office. It’s still going to remain an office, but it’s been a catch-all for crap. Nothing feels better than throwing away bags of crap and donating bags of usable “someone else’s treasure.” Stage two is moving Josh’s clothes into the office closet (yes, I took-over the entire master closest). Then we need to remove the bed and bookcase from the to-be nursery. Then we PAINT. I finally pulled the trigger on Liam’s bedding. I can’t tell you how many times I added the items to my cart online. Diapers.com must know a secret that other online companies don’t because I ordered it this morning at 9:00 am, and by 11:00 am it has already shipped. It’ll be here TOMORROW. Maybe we can pick-out paint this weekend. I keep repeating: We will not procrastinate, we will not procrastinate, we will not procrastinate. I’ll let you know how it goes.
We had a check-up this morning (these happen every four weeks right now). My mom tagged-along. All is well with Liam! Doc said my fluid looks good (no, not THOSE fluids, amniotic fluid), my blood pressure is good, Liam’s heart rate is normal, and he informed us that he looked at the results from our anatomy work-up two weeks ago and all looks well. My glucose test (aka they take MORE blood... did I mention the time they took SEVEN viles?) is scheduled for 4 weeks from now. An hour before the test I’m supposed to drink a 10 ounce drink they sent home with me. Those 10 ounces contain an obscene amount of sugar. Doc’s advice: drink it as fast as possible. They load you with sugar to see how your pancreas reacts. This gives them an indication of your susceptibility to gestational diabetes.
Our plans for the tonight: the first stage of operation Prepare for Liam. We’re cleaning/clearing-out the office. It’s still going to remain an office, but it’s been a catch-all for crap. Nothing feels better than throwing away bags of crap and donating bags of usable “someone else’s treasure.” Stage two is moving Josh’s clothes into the office closet (yes, I took-over the entire master closest). Then we need to remove the bed and bookcase from the to-be nursery. Then we PAINT. I finally pulled the trigger on Liam’s bedding. I can’t tell you how many times I added the items to my cart online. Diapers.com must know a secret that other online companies don’t because I ordered it this morning at 9:00 am, and by 11:00 am it has already shipped. It’ll be here TOMORROW. Maybe we can pick-out paint this weekend. I keep repeating: We will not procrastinate, we will not procrastinate, we will not procrastinate. I’ll let you know how it goes.
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