Parenthetical Three

I skipped a few weeks and I feel bad, until I remember I blog for myself. The idea that this format will be around in 20+ years is a little nutty, never mind the idea that my child (son, no less) would want to read every detail of every feeling during my pregnancy with him.

But here we are, week 25!  Time is passing slowly again, thank goodness, since we have so much left to do and so little energy to do it.

Perhaps on this, week three of the project, we’ll finish painting the nursery. I used to paint a room in a quick hour or two between conference calls, but now, it takes multiple weekends.

Most big decisions have been made leaving us with stuff to purchase (ugg, purchase) and clean (ew, clean). And then wait.  At least one can watch “In Plain Sight” serially on Netflix while waiting.

Body: growing. Everyone wants to see a picture of what I look like. Why? I don’t get it and am rather against it. “Hey, look at Marisa swelling! Neat!” I’m trying to be more understanding of the desire to be a part of this. Not succeeding just yet, but trying.

My boobs continue to get bigger. Bigger! The 34 (one size up) F/G bra I bought a month ago is too small. Oi. Only one size bigger is even available. Argh.  My belly’s getting bigger, too, and I kind of like it, if only because it gives the kiddo more room to play. I also have a linea negra and feel surprisingly affectionate toward it – it makes my belly look pregnant rather than just big.

Still no formal exercise plan but I did take the dogs for a walk last week. Perhaps I’ll break my own record and do it two weeks in a row. And I’m watching what I eat, if only because eating so many things makes me feel so bad. No fried foods, spicy foods, heavy foods, sugary foods… I’m down to grilled chicken salads. Awesome.

Soul: Surprisingly good! I’m really excited about meeting this kid. Pregnancy? Not so fun, but it’s just the journey to the beginning of life with this kiddo.  I’m totally ignoring any thoughts about childbirth, figure I can manage that for another month before I have to face the facts and deal. And I’m quickly learning to defer (deny?) the stuff I just can’t deal with right now. It’s working! In good time, I find I’m more able to deal with the thing I was ignoring. Must. Just. Trust.

Baby: new tricks every day! He can stick body parts up under my ribs AND kick me in the bladder at the same time! And sometimes he pushes his head into my side too! I’m proud of him… strange given how uncomfortable his new tricks are. But proud. “Hey, little dude learned a new painful thing!” My husband just stares in confusion.

He’s getting bigger, has a ticker that beats just like it should, and according to wives’ tales, will emerge with a full head of hair given the amount of heart burn I have. I think he’ll be pretty cute once he gets out of that awkward alien newborn stage, but I’m sure we’ll love them just the same.

First, the good:

I traveled to Seattle for a business trip this week and despite all my anxiety about swelling and feeling terrible the entire time, the flights went pretty well. I didn’t eat any salty foods (my favorite) to limit swelling and drank a bunch of water.  My food choices were probably the best they’ve ever been while traveling — no Chicago dog at O’Hare, yogurt instead of chips, water instead of Starbucks — but it looks like it paid off!

I think I’m getting used to being pregnant, finally. Though I complain, I don’t really miss beer… and when I see myself in the mirror, I’m not startled by how different I look from my normal self.  I realized tonight that for the first time, I don’t mind my rounding belly. Sure, I don’t look like Normal Me, but Pregnant Me isn’t so bad.

This baby o’ mine is a stretcher/ mover/ wiggler. I love it when he takes me by surprise with a good poke when I’m doing something else, like, “Hey, Mom, I’m in here!!” If I cross my legs and lean forward (bad posture, I know), he’ll poke me to remind me to give him some room, man!  And today while in a never ending meeting, we played games – he’d poke, I’d poke, he’d poke, I’d poke. Fun!  He’s starting to seem real for the first time and I’m starting to get excited! (Yes, me, excited!)

I’ve found a tank top + pullover shirt combination that I really like to wear. Today I threw on jeans and a sweater and went to work that way, definitely a more casual look than usual but hey, I’m pregnant!

Then, the not so good:

My boobs are HUGE. I ordered 10-ish bras from a specialty store and only one of them passed muster… and even it can’t hold up to supporting these heavy bazongas for a full day. No idea what the hell I’ll do if they get any bigger (and I just know they will).

Seattle eating is not as fun when I can’t eat half the yummy food people order at seafood places.  Sigh. No smoked salmon (since I didn’t want to ask if it was shelf-stable, probably not, anyway) or something called geoduck (but pronounced gooeyduck) or oysters or… on and on and on.

I’m still not exercising. Yes, I know, I suck. I am walking a lot while I’m here (mostly to the bathroom and back), but it’s till not a real workout. When I get back, I’ll probably suck it up and find a yoga class with an instructor who’ll help me adapt for my pregnancy.

I’m obsessed with the idea that I’m gaining too much weight (15+ pounds at week 22) but not really doing anything about it. I know I’ve “popped” this week for sure, but I’m hoping it’s partly because I’m only five feet tall.

While I’m still anxious (in my head) about everything left to be done, I’ve hit the “meh” point. I know I should be kicking the get-things-ready into high gear, but I’m oddly confident it’ll all work out. This usually means I won’t do jack sh*t until OH MY GOD STUFF MUST GET DONE, but it is nice to not feel the anxiety (even though I know I should be).

The neither-good-nor-bad-but-undecided:

We don’t know where we’ll be living. Bright side: two plus options. Downside: haven’t decided, lots of risks and unknowns. We think we’ll move to the little house while putting both on the market and maybe (if the planets align) considering the awesome lake property that is requiring of so much work!  I’m trying to let go of the oars (do you know that saying?).

The “nursery” is still more of a “storage room” filled with our ex-roommate’s crap, extra furniture we should sell, and baby stuff — still in packages.  Awesome. Since we are likely to be moving, I guess I’ll start painting it back to bright white (from it’s current navy blue) and if we’re still in this house when Baby Boy comes, we’ll make it work.

No idea what we’ll be doing about daycare. Yes, I know I need to start looking into it, I just haven’t.

We think we’re settled on Baby Boy’s real name, but we don’t know what we’ll call him. For many reasons, the usual nicknames for the name “James” are out, so we’re debating either calling him “JJ” or “Rudy” (my brother and dad’s nickname). While I like the sentimentality of the latter, I’m concerned we’ll be saddling the kiddo with a weird “Why do they call you that?” kind of combination. Also, calling this kiddo a real name feels weird no matter what, but especially since the name we’re debating already belongs to my brother (and dad, but I call him “Dad”). Is this weird for anyone else?

Body: Rounder.

Soul: Not bad!

Baby: Pokey McPokester.

… boy! We’re very excited! (I say this honestly, though admitting fully that “excitement” manifests as “anxious energy” in my world.)

My husband is googling mountain bikes (“Um, honey, he won’t be able to ride that for a few years. You know this, right?”) and I’m saying goodbye (for now) to the idea of having a daughter who’s just like me. I’m reminded that one of my charms is having a personality that can see all sides to every issue. I can’t often make a decision because one option isn’t obviously better than the other, and when my options are limited, I mourn a little. This is no different. We passed racks of adorable girl clothes today and for a moment, I wished.

But just for a moment. We’re having A SON! With a name! (We’ve decided on a name, but lack a nickname.) And he’ll be a boy! (Yes, I’m all about the obvious here.) My boy!

Whoa. Suddenly this is seeming a little more real.

While I’m here, I’ll go ahead and knock out the weekly post.

Body: Obviously pregnant. I discovered yesterday that when your tummy and your boobs practically touch, this is called ‘carrying high.’ I’m carrying high. My boobs keep growing (I know, I KNOW) so they touch in the sports-bra style bras that fit. Ugh. I’m trying to watch my posture and dress normally rather than to hide the extra weight. For the first time, I can feel the extra weight I’m carrying, like I’m lugging around a 10 pound bag all the time.

Soul: Better now that he seems more real, this son o’ mine. I’ve made peace with the surrealness (surreality?) of my pregnancy experience. Apparently, this time, at least, I’m not an overly emotional “dreaming of my future child” kind of pregnant mama, I’m more of a, “Wow, we’re really grown-ups, aren’t we? Oh, crap” kind of pregnant mama. ‘Tis what it is.  My mom and stepdad are coming to visit in a few weeks – yay – and all of our parents are being really nice. Too nice, actually, so it’s a bit awkward, but well-meaning.  Things are good.

Baby: He’s a boy!! Yup, very definitely a boy. We had our first joint parenting moment when my husband expressed discomfort at me showing anyone the ultrasound photo of the little dude’s parts. I figure he’s the one with a peter so he gets to call this.

All in all, doing well.  Almost halfway. We can do this!

Body: This was the first week I’ve felt that it’s obvious that I’m pregnant to outsiders. In fact, I had to buy maternity clothes – a very interesting shopping trip, since I’m not really sure how to clothe this body.  First I tried loose and flowy, but I’m too short and too busty for that. Then I tried “distract them from the boobs and belly” by choosing shirts with something interesting around the neckline, but it was too, well, distracting. Ultimately, I settled on a version of my normal uniform: tank top + sweater/ jacket and jeans. I figured out I needed to keep the bottom layer pretty snug and the top layer pretty structured.

That said, I’m still uncomfortable being out and about while sporting this “bump.”  Also awkward and distasteful: that my MIL rubs my belly when she sees me. I turn my body or grit my teeth, but it’s making me dread seeing them, so I’ll have to come up with a tactful way to mention it to her.

While I feel like I’m getting huge, I think I’ve gained about 10 pounds, which seems to be in the normal range of weight gain, but I’d like to be a little more in control of the whole thing. Drinking orange juice (for the calcium) has been nice, but I need to pay more attention to the extra calories.

In other news: last weekend I almost passed out at Subway (embarrassing) and yesterday I almost passed out in the checkout line at the grocery store (doubly embarrassing).  I suspected the OJ was messing with my blood sugar in a bad way, but then I realized the first time I hadn’t eaten yet (at 2pm!) and the second time, I’d had a milkshake earlier in the day and just hadn’t recovered.

Soul: Meh. I’m okay. I’m feeling awkward about “the bump,” uncomfortable physically, and weirded out about being pregnant in general (especially at work). My husband has been really nice and helpful, though, so that’s been nice.

Baby: kicking!

Obviously I’m not the most graceful of changers. Changelings? People-who-are-changing. I love the idea of change, claim I need constant growth to be content, but I’m not really content, and most growth comes with growing pains.

Oy, am I in the middle of some growing pains.

Body: So, yea, I’m pregnant, right? Clearly there are body changes happening with more to come. I’m a smart gal; I understand this. INTELLECTUALLY. Emotionally, I am grumpy and unhappy and (yes) rather freaked out by the body changes. I see myself in the mirror and before my brain remembers I’m pregnant, my immediate reaction is, “Ugh, less food, more movement.” Every time.

And those are just the visual changes. Inside, my body is in turmoil. Remember the movie, “Alien”? My digestive system is fighting a battle that feels like it would look not unlike that movie. I’m definitely no longer me, body-wise, and as my realistic mom keeps cautioning me to remember, once Pregnant Me becomes Mommy Me, I won’t be exactly as I was before, though I will be closer than I am now.

One body-related meltdown this week when I confessed to Jen that I was gaining weight in my whole midsection, not just my protruding belly, to which she replied with a much more thoughtful and sweet version of, “Duh.”  My mom responded the same way. “Well, yea. What made you think all the change would be in one place?” She may have said, “Your body is a host,” or I may have made that up.  Either way, ’tis true. Eeek!

Am I the only one who thought pregnant women gained this protruding belly and maybe a couple of bra sizes and that’s that?  Sure, a bit of bloat in the end, but this early I didn’t expect the beginnings of rolls in my midsection. Rolls!

Also odd: my posture is all kinds of wacky since I can’t do my usual suck-in-the-gut core stabilizing thing. Blame it on the cheerleader years, but I generally tighten my abs 90% of the time I’m awake. A few weeks ago I clued in that this was making my digestive issues worse, so I stopped… and whoa, any previously conceived experience I had with standing went out the window.

I have had some abdominal tightening a’la muscles stretching. I sneezed earlier today and got a cramp near my hip bone not unlike a foot cramp you might get in the middle of the night. And though I was semi-certain I felt him* kick once last week, it has not happened again.

Soul: Struggling. Frankly, I’m sick of myself. I spent 8 full weeks being grumpy and miserable during first trimester and because my digestive issues aren’t clearing up – meaning I’m still vomiting or feeling like I might with regularity – I’m still grumpy and kind of a Debbie Downer. Tired of myself, not sure how my husband can stand this Eeyore. This week I’ll be focusing on the baby… the good stuff, not the scary stuff. Because really, the scary stuff will happen whether I predict it or not, right? Why not spend the not-knowing time focusing on the good unknowns rather than the bad ones?

We went to buy pet food today and a humane society had a passel of puppies outside. Puppies! In February! Is it puppy season already? I walked right past them to a sweet teenaged black dog named Hope. She’d watch each approaching people with her tail wagging, then it would slow when they ignored her to play with the puppies. I couldn’t let that happen! I hugged and played and smooched, then got up to go… and my softie husband had that look in his eyes. *shaking head* Gotta love a husband who’s a sucker. We joked tonight that he’d not be allowed to go to the pet store to replenish food supplies with the kid, because we’d be virtually guaranteed another critter.  It felt good to think ahead to the funny times!

Baby: I’ve lost track of what he’s doing on any given week anymore, but I know he can hear us, has pretty decent motor skills (for a fetus) and is forming his/ her gender stuff on the outside. No baby dreams lately, but when I’m feeling my worst, putting my hand on his little home and asking him to cut his mama a break makes me feel better.  Ultrasound on Thursday, then we’ll schedule our next ultrasound – the one where we’ll find out the gender!

All in all, not a bad week. I still haven’t gotten things together for a photo session (can’t find the tripod) and I didn’t get as much accomplished in the house as I’d hoped, but we’ve made a few key decisions – always makes me happy – and are adjusting to our lives for now.

*Don’t know if the baby’s a he or a she, so I alternate pronouns each week. This is now a “he” week.

Nature’s trying to toughen me up, I think. Once upon a time, I thought the vomiting and nausea of pregnancy might actually kill me. How this could happen, physiologically, I didn’t know, but I was certain I could not survive it.

I’d laugh if I wasn’t fresh off a bout of tossing my cookies.

Helpful note: I’m telling you, the crackers and peanut butter packs you’d normally get from a vending machine are a life saver. I don’t know why, exactly. Could it be the minuscule amounts of protein added to acid-absorbing cracker?  Couldn’t tell you, but they work. I can think of no other explanation for having about a week of no actual hurling.

If you’re pregnant and less than 12 weeks — and therefore holding on to the little ray of hope that things get better in second trimester — know that they totally do. I can’t explain why, since clearly I’m still puking, but they are. The kid inside me is moving!  And looks like a real kid! And is ours!  We made it!  All awesome things, so still hang your hat on week thirteen.  It will be better.

And now you first trimester ladies should stop reading, because I’m going to talk about heaving and I don’t want to be responsible for causing it in you. Loves and kisses!!

That said, the digestive clouds haven’t parted, at least not for me. I’m cleaning up my diet to no avail. Tried gentle exercise and just ended up upchucking along the side of the road I live on. Thankfully, it wasn’t an actual yard, rather a space between yards. Whew!  And tonight I was back to that horrid thing where you have to cough and put some effort into getting regurgitated gunk out of your throat. Yuck. It was so acidic that when I finally stopped and had some water, the water tasted sweet. My throat aches.

Best explanation I can figure is that Mother Nature is teaching me that no, I won’t die, and in fact I can handle the whole shebang with an eensy little bit of grace… meaning I didn’t actually cry, though tears escaped and ran down my face. I also didn’t bark at my husband for snoozing comfortably through the whole ordeal. Some things you just have to deal with alone.

Luckily they happen at night, because around here, he deals with mornings.

Did anybody else read the “Encyclopedia Brown” books growing up? I loved them and learned more things about random subjects than a child should (since I shared those things with anyone who’d listen, a habit I can’t manage to break today).

Let’s back up a second.  A few years ago, I spent weeks wracking my brain trying to remember the name of my fourth grade teacher. Weeks! I could remember every other year, but that one was completely blank; I had not a single memory. I started to freak out about it, in my quiet moments, wondering how I could possibly forget an entire year.

I didn’t go to the fourth grade.  I skipped from third to fifth. Oops.

Back to the present. For the past week, I’ve been annoyed and perplexed that the baby update emails I subscribe to – specifically BabyCenter’s – were running a week ahead. Is this what happens in the second trimester? Do they start giving you a head start so you don’t forget? What is up with BabyCenter? (Note: Fit Pregnancy consistently sends me emails for wacky weird weeks – I’ve already received Week 32, for example – so I had some reason to be annoyed.)

I logged in today to make sure my due date was correct (it was)… and, um, I’m not about to get to week 14, I’m ending it.  I lost a week.  I know this because I checked all three subscription services. But wait, then I started googling “pregnancy week calculator.” One told me I was ending week 15; two others told me I was ending week 14.  So I may have lost two weeks. I’m all verklempt now.

Argh!!  This is what I get for spending a whole week trying to decide on a newborn AND post-newborn cloth diaper type, store, quantity… I lose week(s).

For those wondering what system made the final call, it was my Outlook calendar. I have a prenatal appointment next Thursday (a week from four days from now) — and I marked it “Week 16.” Outlook saved the day.