aewori[roiepoar

Oh, I'm sorry. Were you not able to understand my title? It's probably because my hands are swollen and I can'taoepruaoerperf type very well.

This delightful new symptom started up yesterday, when I went for a walk down by the piers with my buddy Manjiri. It was hot - truly hot, not fake San Francisco hot - and our "walking" didn't last very long. We strolled for a bit, but soon my hands were puffy marshmallow mittens and I had to sit down to make it stop.

We chilled in the shade on the cool pavement, and drank lemonades and ate sammies, and chat chat chatted, occasionally stopping to gawk at the local talent. Warm weather brings out the CRAZIES - I'll leave it at that.

(No, I won't. This one dude, not a transvestite, in no other way femme, was wearing a DENIM SKIRT. Just, like, hey! It's really warm, the jean shorts are too stifling, this thing looks comfy, yeah!)

But the hand puffies didn't go away. They stayed with me for the rest of the day and through the night, as I watched Clay play his new Batman game, tried playing it myself, and then made us watch Mad Men instead. (Sidenote: Do you ladies truly find Jon Hamm attractive? Am I missing something? I do not get it. At all.)

And they're still here today. Puff, puff, puff the magic puffies. I'm sure I'm just retaining water like a happy preggo is supposed to, but of course I like to consume myself with frantic Google searches, ranging from early preeclampsia to cancer of the fingernails.

Want to come over? It's fun!

Bumpdate: 16 weeks, 2 days

Ha ho! We'z not kidding around anymore, people.

Bump chicka bump wah.

The other day my (female) worker (I don't think male coworkers like to acknowledge my, um, status) was all:

"Wow! I can SEE it!"

Which is good? I guess?

Note the skirt, making a comeback from the 12 weeks bumpdate. They tell me it's going to be hot today (summer in San Francisco starts in September - didn't you know?), so I'm making Team Buddy Bean comfy.

Which will also be accomplished with the Egg McMuffin I'm about to scarf.

Happy Birthday

To my buddiest buddy guy.

Thanks for being my robot daddy.

I hope our robaby looks just like you.

(But maybe a few more nuts and bolts and stuff.)

I love you. Like woah.

*Yep, that's really Clay.*

Like mother like robot

So I thought I'd give the robot building a little nudge by wearing my own gear. You know, osmosis or something.

But isn't this thing hardcore?

My old snowboarding ouchy plus repetitive stress from typing and writing plus weird pregnancy ligament issues equals PAINZ r us. But the fashion opportunity is cereal worth it.

I'm making it WORK, Tim.


-- Post From My iPhone

*!!!Pow Pow Bam Karate Chop Head Butt!!!*

That fight sequence? That was our little robot making sure I remember he's in there. (Sorry for the lack of equal opp pronouns. I'm completely convinced it's a boy and I'm too lazy to pretend I'm not.) Not with lots of fun kicks (the movements are still tiny and finicky), but with a dayful of nausea and heartburn and crazy mood swings. I'm tired, friends. Just when I get a little cocky, remembering those old first trimester days with a shake of my head and a Mona Lisa smile, I get socked to the ground, with a mouthful of dirt to chew on.

It helps to know I get good days now, too, but it's hard not to feel frustrated and jealous of those "at 13 weeks I felt a switch turn the sick off!" people. Me no get it. Where does it come from, after it's been gone for three or four days in a row? THE FIERY PITS OF HELL. That's where!

I watched Rosemary's Baby last night, to make me feel better. Because, ya know, things may get rough and I may feel exhausted and overwhelmed sometimes. But I'm not carrying Satan's son and that's really pretty awesome.

For the record

Bras for the big chested are not sexy time. I sort of knew this already, but since I've usually fallen into the nicely-endowed, but not hugely-endowed group, I didn't think too much about it. But the past week or so it's become very clear that the ol' undergarments weren't cutting it anymore. You're not supposed to spill out of your cups when you lean over to turn on your computer, turns out.

So tonight, after a nummy sushi dinner with my nummy husband (mostly veggies for me, but I had ONE RAW SCALLOP so help me God), I hit the stores and ordered up some new holder-uppers. And wow. First of all, I'm rocking a size further down the alphabet than I thought was in my future. And second, these, uh, garments are...not going to get me in Playboy. Not that I want to be in Playboy. But if I did. I couldn't. I am STRAPPED IN. I am READY TO PLAY, COACH. Locked AND loaded.

But back to your Friday night already! I'll just be over here, requesting a new zip code for my chest.

Bumpdate: 15 weeks, 2 days

Me and the bug!

Sorry for the weird light in these things. I take them right before I run to work, before I've eaten and my belly gets huger, and I haven't quite gotten down the knack of my lil phone yet.

I can't tell if there's much difference between last week's picture and this week's picture, but believe me when I say, in real life? THERE IS.

Apologies to your eyes for having to look at my only pair of too-big maternity pants. Maybe one day I'll wear something else. Although, it gives a real sense of continuity from one week to the next right? RIGHT?

I think they need a new word for pregnant

Kind of like how they rebranded 'prunes' to 'dried plums'? I just find it so awkward, especially around those of the male persuasion. PREG-nant. PREGGGGNANT. See? Ew. Say it over and over and you'll start to shudder, too. Plus, getting that "Pr" sound out is a lot of work, just ask the 900 speech pathologists I have in my family. And I'm too tired to make difficult sounds.

Sometimes I just say "I'm having a baby", but I think that's bad in a different way. Because while, yes, eventually, this thing is coming out, it ain't coming out RIGHT NOW, while I'm eating my Reuben and fries, thanks. Furry and skinny and eyes-sealed-shut.

Also, is there some sort of hormone that kicks in second trimester that makes you want to EAT YOUR HUSBAND? Because I want to do just that. I want to whip out a spoon and dig in. He smells all delicious and looks all precious and, well, it's a little distracting, frankly. Kiss kiss smooch grab snuggle nuzzle dot com.

15 week bumpdate coming stat!

Hello, I am lame sauce

I am unable to keep our apartment clean. UNABLE. We got it in good shape for our houseguest last week (hi, Matt!), but as soon as he (and his help) were gone? The dishes pile up, the clothes spill out of the hamper (hamper? is that a word?!), the junk mail and bags and jackets bury me in a puddle of mush. Fail.

Also? I get out of breath walking up small hills.

Additionally? Cooking has gone out the window. Bye! Hello, pizza and Thai and cereal and brownies.

Oh, and I forgot to drop the Netflix in the mailbox today. And pay our fruit/veggie delivery bill. And cancel my dentist appointment on time.

My pants fall down when I walk because I bought the wrong size and I'm too tired to get a different pair.

My hair is clean only 50% of the time.

But! I'm REALLY GOOD at eating cheese.

I had a dream last night

That my brother and I - current ages - decided to put on a play in my Mom's bedroom, and invite many people. We both played witches and planned on singing songs about bags. We both bombed, people left in a huff, and then I woke up.

In other news, I wanted to say a few things I am grateful for in this pregnancy (obvs aside from the facts that we conceived easily, have had no scary scares, and my husband rocks - I am grateful for those everyday) since most of the time I complain about my queasies.

1. My skin has not rebelled. It looks exactly the same as it did pre-bean. I have no idea how, since everything else has been wildly affected by my wild hormones. But I'm not asking questions, people. I'm just saying thank you.

2. For the past 5 years, I've had this mysterious insane leg/hip problem that caused me lots and lots of pain and moaning and Advil. For some completely unknown reason, it is GONE. Like, no sign of it for the past 3.5 months. Hey, thanks, leg!

3. Full fat milk in my caffeinated beverages. Because my doctor told me I'm allowed a small cup of coffee a day, sometimes I give in. Especially if I can't close my eyes because they're hurting so much from the PAIN THE PAIN. And when I give in? I get a latte with whole milk. Because I can! Lalalala!

4. Old friends reach out and we have lovely catch-up convos.

5. It's okay to cry really hard at Felicity.

6. ELASTIC WAIST JEANS.

Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me

As I lie here, digesting my third meal of the day at 1:21 pm, and blinking my eyes against a blinding headache, I'm trying hard to focus on the sensations of my belly. See, there's always something gurgling or rumbling or retching or churning down there - but last night something different happened. Last night, after eating a bowl of parmesan cheese with a side of spaghetti, I laid down on the couch, on my right side, and suddenly felt

*tap tap tap*

I stayed perfectly still and waited. And it came again, only this time stronger

*tap tap poke poke tap tap flutter flutter tap*

"I think I just felt the baby move?!" I shouted to Clay, who looked up in surprise.

I quickly sat up and googled "quickening", that medievalish term for feeling baby bean's first movements. Lo and behold, the Interwebs told me a small portion of ladies can feel it as early as 15 weeks. Ah!

And then, it was all I wanted to feel. I flip flopped right to left, poked my belly a little, ate some gummy worms, jogged in place. But that was it. Until this morning, when I felt the tiny flutter again, just a little kick to get my day started and feed my buddy some grub.

This rules.

14.5 week bumpdate

I had a bit of a frenzied morning so I didn't get to do my bumpdate as wanted. So I'm winging it from my new phone instead. Here goes....


-- Post From My iPhone

If you're lucky

You caught my religion post earlier this evening. But it's down for now. Dunno. Thought it would help to put it out there, but it didn't. After I posted it, I sat through dinner (a lovely dinner in the Castro with Casey and Clay and Matt and small plates of goodness) and obsessed over the words I'd posted. I felt weird; like I'd told too much, but also not enough, somehow at the same time.

When it comes down to it, I have some very specific things to say to some very specific people and my blog probably isn't the place to do it.

I'm sure I'll get all worked up again and rework it at some point, but for now? Nah.

But! Bumpdate coming Friday morning. Me promise!

Bumpdate: 13 weeks (and change)

So I'm officially at the stage where you can see I've got a belly under my shirt, but it could still be full of jelly doughnuts or Cheetos, instead of a baby. So I get all these sneaky stares throughout the day, like hmm, she's got such slender limbs - pity about the gut.

Good news and a rant

The good! = We got our results from the blood test that screens for Down syndrome and Edwards syndrome (I live in a crazy state where insurance covers these tests for all ladies, not just the over-35 crowd, which is more typical) and they were negatory.

To be more specific, our baby has a 1/9,500 chance of having Down's. And a less than 1/100,000 chance of having Edward's. Seeing that the average risk for an 18-year-old mama (as low risk as it gets, really) to have a baby with Down's is 1/1,198 and for Edward's is 1/4,668 -- I'll take it!

Anything that lets me breathe a little easier is greatly welcomed, so - huzzah!

The rant! = I am super done with city life right now. Everywhere I turn, I smell urine. And garbage. And more urine. And then I'll see some dude shooting up smack behind an abandoned shopping cart. Or another barefoot, shirtless dude strolling into my bagel joint, looking at condiments for his...beer? My pregnant nose and belly and soul cannot take it. I want to be teleported to a green mountaintop, where I'll eat tomatoes and olive oil and read Little House on the Prairie in between skinny dips in a creek. Please?

Most importantly, I wanted to let you know that the steamy pregnancy dreams have begun. Unfortunately, I can't really enjoy them because the whole time I'm all "But I'm married! And pregnant!" which really kills the mood for my seducer. (Last night? John Mayer.) I just hope whoever I get tonight will understand and just buy me some froyo instead.

So I was all gung ho for a birthing center birth

I've read the books, I've seen the documentaries, I've talked to many a mama. And in some ways, the non-hospital, no-chance-of-meds, earthy labor experience was just what I wanted. I wholeheartedly believe my body was made to do this, that birth has become overmedicalized, that birthing centers often offer a more nurturing and satisfying labor experience. So I made my appointment, made the announcement I was doing it, and that was that.

But then? I don't know. I didn't cancel my appointment yesterday with my lady doctor and afterward I remembered I liked her ways - especially because she admitted to eating sushi, hot dogs, and turkey sammies during her pregnancy. Then she reminded me (oops pregnancy amnesia!) about the cervical issue I had surgery on awhile back that we'll need to watch closely to ensure the baby stays up in there toward the end. Should be absolutely fine, but I'm going to need extra ultrasounds and a little extra care to be sure everything stays cozy and closed till it's time to push. Sort of moves me out of the no-risk pregnancy category the birthing centers prefer. Low risk? Yes. No risk? Not really.

Oh and then I remembered - much more noticeable now that I'm out of breath as soon as I climb out of bed - that the doctor's office is a three minute walk from my home. Not a twenty minute drive, like the birthing center...a THREE MINUTE WALK. Not five! Not four! THREE. I could stumble out in my bathrobe if I wanted.

And lastly, while I am fully, totally behind the birthing center concept, I also need to be honest about who I am. And who is that? A basically insane, neurotic, obsessive compulsive worrier who will fixate for the next 6 months on all the things that could go wrong last minute if I'm not at a hospital. It's just the truth. And since I think the whole point of the birthing center is to feel more relaxed...

And so! Onward ho with a hospital birth. I'm going to try my damndest to do it natural, to make it as un-sterile (in the psychological sense - I'd like it sterile in the germy sense, thanks) as possible, and to keep any and all IVs out of my arm. But most importantly, to get this little critter buddy robot friend out safe and sound.

A salty day

Just click here to see where my mind (and stomach) were at around 5 today. And honestly? One of the best things I've eaten all pregnancy. Turns out, our baby gets happy when you feed it two soft taco supremes followed by a long snooze. If all it takes is $3.43 and some shut eye? DONE.

I even used the good tummy and mood vibes to put on some tunes and clean the kitchen. Now, I MAY have broken down in tears when the Beatles' version of Twist and Shout came on (is it because he says "baby" a lot? because I'm really excited to introduce the buddy to the stylings of the Fab Four? because I'm insane?), but other than that! A success.

Oh! Also good was this morning because I had my monthly check-in (where apparently I have to LABEL MY OWN PEE SAMPLE EXCUSE ME?) and I got to hear our little friend's pitter patter heartbeat! She put the gel on the tum and warned me it might take a few minutes to find the little guy, but within a few seconds hi! There you are!

"You've got a cooperative baby!"

Did you hear that in there?! Does positive reinforcement work yet? Keep it up, pal!

The heartbeat is nice and strong and this time I had my actual doctor there, so she wasn't so clinical and cold about the whole thing; she let me listen for awhile and laughed when the heartbeat would go in and out a little because he was moving around so much. *heart breaks into millions of pieces*

Followed up the appointment with my first day back at work after vacation. Got pretty zonked pretty early on, but I've shortened my hours and that's helping. So did the BLT on a salt bagel I grabbed just before sitting down. Heard some guy order it ahead of me in line and realized it was the perfect food. Essentially a salt lick in a wrapper. Nom nom nom.

I'll pause here for the good women of this world who didn't eat Taco Bell and bacon during their pregnancies (OR WHO THINK THEY WON'T GOOD LUCK TO THEE) to judge me. It's cool. I also snort coke on the weekends!

Let's make a list!

Because I have a lot to update on and we all love a good listy format, don't we now?

1.) I loved my trip home. It was REAL SUMMER - barefoot on the lawn, mosquito bites, steaks on the grill, swims in Walden Pond and the Squannacook River, sticky sleepy nights, picnic tables, and driving with the windows down and my ponytail sticking to my lips.

My first full day back was a lovely surprise - the whole fam damly drove down from Maine to party down at our house. They brought cupcakes! and maternity clothes! and fudge! and wedding presents! and baby books! and babies! We grilled yums on the grill, watched the kiddos be reeediculously cute together, and tried to keep ourselves from eating Libby the Perfect Baby alive. It was great - but of course too short.

Here are a couple pictures (stolen from you, Miss Amanda!):

Meredyth, me (and my...bust), Christie, Ben, the Cutest Cupcakes on Earth.

Okay honestly? This baby, Christie's third, was made in a baby factory. Not only is she cute as a freaking button, her personality and temperament need to be cloned. So lowkey, so sweet, so...I HOPE MY TUMMY WAS PAYING ATTENTION.

My Gram, the baby I kidnapped, my chubby tum.

Okay, moving on. So that day was lovely, then Mom and I had some really great lowkey days afterward, swimming and eating and lounging and chatting. She really hucked and jived for me and it was the best thing ever, being totally pampered and lazy and fed. I could have done it for many more days, although Mom...she probably just needed a nap.

More fun was had, visiting my male family members and such, but I'm tuckered out on details, schmetails. Needless to say, I was ready to see my boo back in SF, but was still sad to leave.

2.) This past week has been back to help-me-now in terms of the baby sicks. I have no idea what's going on, but I'm not happy, yo. I thought I was slowly getting better, but lately I've been slammed with that all-day shroud of nausea. There's just so much that can be said about it because blah blah blah. But I'd just like to be honest about how hard this sickness thing is for me. It's hard. I'm upset. Moving on.

3.) Last night I had a complete breakdown when we couldn't get seats to Harry Potter. I cried in the streets. I stamped my feet. If I couldn't be with Dumbledore, I wanted to end it all. But then Clay suggested we take a walk along Crissy Field and then buy some iPhones and surprise! I felt better.

So yeah, that brings me to

4.) I know we're a little late, but we bought some looooooovely iPhones last night. We're in love. Doobie doobie doooooooooo.

5.) Time for Cheerios and gagging!