It’s the only time in my baby’s life that I was hoping the munchkin would have his or her bit on full display, and…..
(Drum Roll, Please)
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Welcome to Maternity Monday
Since it appears that I talk about my pregnancy every hour of every day, and on here every Monday (ya know, whatever gets my big belly through the day) I have dubbed it “Maternity Monday”
So let’s get on with it.
My baby is 6 inches long and 7 ounces. Which is enough tequila to make for an interesting night until you get sick, if you’re into that kinda thing. And 6 inches is…… well, half the length of a ruler (I’m tired, it’s Monday, don’t judge). The baby is now fully assembled and functioning with appropriate proportions and everything. The rapid-fire development of this exercise is now complete. Let’s celebrate with one of those tequila shots, shall we? I kid, I’m really more of a rum gal.
This weekend I started crying for an unknown reason, and decided to put my mind to good use taking the painter’s tape down from our nursery to distract myself. It worked eventually, I was just glad that Angel wasn’t home to witness this one so I didn’t have to explain that I really had no idea why I was crying except that my dog just brought me her favorite toy. Her favorite toy! For me! How sweet was that?!
So, moods?….. check
Shit’s getting real. I now have a belly that warrants at least the question “Is she pregnant, or a closet carb lover?” which is a question above where I’ve been the last 18 weeks! We find out (hopefully!) in about 24 hours if I’m busy cooking a son or daughter in here, and I’m starting to notice a serious pattern to baby kicks and movements: 30 minutes between 9 and 11am, a kick or two around lunch time, a kick or two around dinner time, and 20 minutes right when I’m going to bed as well as waking me up with a swift kick if I roll onto my back in my sleep (apparently this munchkin appreciates not being cut off from umbilical cord blood as much as I appreciate a good night’s sleep).
Pregnancy books all talk about how important physical activity is, but they clearly weren’t written by a moody pregnant chick living in Phoenix in the summer. Since swimming is exercise, I bent the rules a bit and took a 30 minute nap on a floating raft with Molly at my feet. I got outside, I moved/floated, it counts. I’m way too busy sleeping and crying to have time to be active anyway, so I tore those pages out of the book and made some cute origami with them.
Not sure what it is, but I can tell you what it’s NOT and that’s telling me to exercise
Because I can’t be sarcastic 100% of the time, allow me a service announcement here: Pregnancy will, guaranteed, multiply whatever you have with your spouse. If you bicker about the trash, be ready to scream over it. If you love each other, be ready to love each other more. I’ve heard it before, but I swear it’s true. Sometimes I’m ready to throw the whole damn trash can at Angel, but more often than not I find myself thinking how I got so lucky to find someone so sweet to me. He’s been such a trooper with my sleeping all of the time, needing to take breaks when we’re out doing anything, calling him at work to ask him to pick me up a jar of Vlassic Crunchy Dill Spears on his way home, asking him to carry things up and down the stairs like he’s a Sherpa, and I’m sure I’m missing the other 1,000 things a day that he’s great about. A $5 bottle of water while we’re out running errands? Sounds totally reasonable to him if I’m thirsty. I’ve never once heard him complain or argue with my seemingly crazy requests. Instead, we cuddle on the couch with Molly on my leg and Angel’s hand on my belly waiting for baby kicks and watching HBO like an adorable little domestic family. Who cares about the dirty dishes? They’ll still be there tomorrow and I’ll get around to them then.
Pregnancy will only multiply what you have- be it good or bad.
I’m lucky to have a good thing going on.
Week 18
Aaaaand I’m back to being nearly a week behind. Whatever, deal with it just like I have to deal with the fact that I’m in constant search for the bathroom….
Our baby is 18 weeks old (give or take Bad Mommy’s lack of counting exactly), the size of the baked potato that I’m about to inhale for lunch, and can hear what I’m saying now. “You stop kicking and let Mommy eat or so help me God I’m coming in there!” While we’re on the topic of movement, let’s discuss how adorably annoying this is. They are getting less “I think the baby just moved” and more “I was totally just kicked or punched” and “Awww, baby is rolling over!” It’s a crazy sense of relief when the baby is moving and fist-pumping his way to freedom because it reminds me that the little munchkin is still there and breathing amniotic fluid like a champ. While we were laying down watching TV the other night, the baby started to move and I told Angel to put his hand on my belly and see if he can feel it (I’ve felt it outside myself only twice). I asked him a few times “did you feel that?!” but alass, he hadn’t. I thought he started pushing on my tummy to see if it would help but instead he was like “I felt that one!!” with a big, adorable smile on his face. So apparently he wasn’t pushing, the baby was just coming to saying “hi” to Daddy.
I’m also hungry. But not until I start to eat. It’s weird. I’m not hungry at all, I get food in front of my face, and all of a sudden you don’t want to be the thing standing between a starving pregnant lady and her lunch (or you will be destroyed).
The pregnancy pillow is still the greatest thing EVER. While very comfortable, trying to roll over with this sucker is a giant exercise in AWKWARD. Molly has also decided that she likes it as well because now she can sleep up against it and not get kicked or rolled over onto in the middle of the night. She has no enjoyment of risky sleeping, apparently.
We find out on Tuesday if I’m busy baking a boy or a girl. Angel and I have always been in agreement on the “find out the sex” front because truth be told, we’re either surprised at 19 weeks, or at 40. I am still convinced that it’s going to be a boy, but more and more of a feeling now that I’m in for a huge surprise come Tuesday. Or maybe this baby will be modest and we won’t have a choice but to wait until 40 weeks? There’s no real wrong answer here, provided that everything is healthy and fine and this little boy or girl stays put until he or she is fully cooked, amen.
Introduction of the Pregnancy Pillow
I’m 17 weeks as of yesterday. I celebrated by attempting to sleep in and my baby celebrated by fist pumping into my bladder. Sweet, right?
My baby is 5 inches long, which is exactly the same size as the salsa bottle that I quadruple dipped into this weekend. Bowls are for suckers. Baby is also growing baby fat, which is obvious by my massive weight gain (those 3 pounds these last few weeks were clearly all baby fat and had nothing to do with the grilled cheese and pickles I craved at 10pm last night). And baby is finally turning his (<– still assuming it’s a boy) skeleton into real bone. Puts my nail growing into perspective a little bit, doesn’t it? I can grow nails and apparently my baby can grow bones… show off.
The last few days I’ve felt immensely huge and pregnant. Like, how on Earth are these pregnancy clothes ever going to fit this GIANT belly that I now have? Oooooohhh, that’s right. It’s all in my big, fat, pregnant, head. For the record, “Normal” weight gain is anything between 5 and 13 pounds, but I seriously detest the word “normal” in reference to anything pregnancy (see: morning sickness STILL). I want to stab the world in the eyeballs with a fork, a little bit, when I hear that word.
Now that the little munchkin is moving like crazy (granted only from time to time that I feel), I’ve replaced one paranoia for another. Before, I was worried that my baby had died any time that I had a day without morning sickness or a few hours where I had enough energy to clean the kitchen. There’s not other logical excuse for wanting to unstick the plates from the counter than a dead baby. Now I get paranoid when I lay down for bed and don’t get annoyed by my moving baby keeping me up. It’s all a very efficient process, actually.
I had a dream this weekend that the baby came early and the ONLY baby item that we had was a crib so I was worried about how I was going to dress the baby or change the baby’s diapers without clothes or diapers and I couldn’t go get them because I didn’t have a car seat or stroller to take the baby with me. Don’t ask why Angel wasn’t around to watch the baby, because that answer is filed away with why I would have a perfectly healthy baby at 20 weeks home from the hospital without a car seat. Pregnancy dreams are weird, y’all. I told Angel about my dream and he started laughing at me and said “that totally makes sense.” Apparently he thinks that I over plan. I don’t know why he would think that.
In other news, we have our baby registry done because I’m a type A Super Planner who has nightmares about not being prepared.
I made some seriously fantastic purchases yesterday. First, I went to Target to get a toothpaste that doesn’t taste like any variation of mint after gagging one too many times trying to brush my teeth. And ya know, when you brush your teeth and it makes you throw up, the process to get ready in the morning really takes quite a bit of time.
I also got the most amazingly unsexy yet fantastic pillow known to the pregnancy planet. I’m a back sleeper by trade and was told by my doctor to “enjoy it while you can” and to “stop by 20 weeks.” That’s like telling a giraffe to stop being tall- not going to happen. That is, until about 4 days ago when I would wake up in the middle of the night on my back and be in actual pain in my tummy. All of that baby fat is apparently too much to be sitting on my abs comfortably anymore. But then, I know no other way so I’ve spent the better time of the last few nights tossing and turning trying to get comfortable. Or like I say, “rocking my baby to sleep because I’m selfless like that.” Mom of the Year Award.
I took this thing home, washed the cover, and put it on the bed. Angel, like a champ, saw it and said “that should help” gave me a kiss, and went on his way. Success, folks.
I said this thing was hideous, folks. I wasn’t lying.
And can I say, I got the best night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks. This won’t let me sleep on my back, and when I go sort of roll onto my back, it keeps the baby to the side so I’m not in pain and waking up 10,287 times a night.
I love Angel even more for not complaining that he now shares the bed with me, our dog, my giant belly, and a pillow the size of a Backstreet Boy.
Exactly.
I told Angel “Happy Father’s Day” yesterday for putting up with my pregnant self crying over cars, filling the fridge full of pickles, and waking him up in the middle of the nights to tell him that we need to start shopping for the baby because what if the baby comes early and we don’t have the car seat to bring him home from the hospital?! He said “Thanks. Almost half way there.”
And that was enough to cause me to freak out. Oh my God. I AM almost half way there! In my dream the perfectly healthy baby came at 20 weeks and we only had a crib and you’re telling me that I’m almost 20 weeks and we don’t even have the freaking crib?! Side note: I’m aware that a “perfectly healthy” baby at 20 weeks is impossible. This is what makes me and my planning so ridiculous.
But then, I love my husband for taking it all in stride. Listening to all of my crazy dreams, and then asking if my lemonade needs a refill so I don’t have to make horrendous grunting noises trying to get myself up off of the couch. They write books about him (Bed Time at the Zoo, and I’ll Love You Forever to name a few).
16 Weeks (Hey! I’m Getting Better!)
So I was 16 weeks yesterday, which makes me an Allstar for posting about it today. I’m rewarding myself with some chocolate but considering that I’m sharing it with the baby, I’m a good mom. See how that works?
My baby is 4.5 inches long and 3.5 ounces. This is the size of an avocado and the weight of a chocolate Easter bunny (but not together, because eew). Baby is also supposedly growing flesh-tearing talons (i.e. fingernails and toenails) so my kid and I are sharing that in common. Seriously, if I could show you how amazing my nails are, you would be shocked. I’m growing these suckers like a super hero. Which I AM a super hero because who else can grow a tiny human from scratch except those with super hero abilities?
But all of that means nothing when I tell you that OH MY GOD I FELT MY BABY MOVE. It’s like when you were 13 and the popular boy in math class asked you for a pencil and you told all of your friends for the rest of the day that he was clearly just looking for a reason to talk to you because who forgets to bring their pencil to math class so DUH he likes you and it’s necessary to apply another layer of makeup before you see him in the hall. For those of you who don’t speak teenager, you may refer to the feeling as “butterflies”
Well, my baby feels like that. Except lower and not triggered by the popular boy in math class (who got really ugly after he was released from prison, by the way).
This is all extremely exciting until my kid’s movements are less adorable and more “stop checking for structural defaults and let mommy sleep!” But in the mean time, eeeeeee!! My baby moved!!
Strollers, and Car Seats, and Cribs- Oh, My!
This is all a little bit overwhelming. Angel and I have started the horrible process of looking for car seats.
But do you know how many options there are out there?! “Do you want it to fir your car seat? What kind of car seat do you have?” Oh. My. God. There’s an order to this?! “….uh, the kind that goes in the car?” So we start with car seats. Do you want an infant only car seat, a convertible car seat, a removable car seat, a booster seat, or a toddler seat? Do you have anchors in your car or do you need one that operates without them? Are the anchors high or low? What’s your stance on removable bases?
Listen, people. I just need something safe to hold my child while I run to the grocery store like a bad mom at 11pm because I ran out of milk. “Oh, they’ll all do that so you need to be more specific.” whimper
15 Weeks and Still Puking (ugh)
Well, it’s official. I AM indeed half-assing this trimester. I was 15 weeks on Sunday and I celebrated by finally sleeping in past 6am (it’s the small things in life, people) followed by laying on the couch and refusing to do any house work and giving Angel the stink eye if he looked like he was about to mention my laziness. “I MADE A HUMAN TODAY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” But, the boy was smart and just asked instead if my lemonade needed a refill. Aww! So sweet.
This is probably an excellent time to point out that my hormones appear to be on the world’s most ridiculous roller coaster. My doctor asked a few weeks ago if I had mood swings yet and I proudly said “nope!” Followed 12 hours later by me bursting into tears at work when Angel asked me what time I can take my car to the dealership to trade in. To which he then became extremely concerned that I didn’t like the car that we were purchasing and me spending the better part of the morning trying to explain that I just really loved my EOS convertible and “wanted to see it go to a good home.” (insert husband’s confused face here)
Angel told me it was probably a good thing that I never had to consider child adoption because he questioned my capacity to handle it. Fair point.
Pregnancy books say that this week my baby is the size of a… wait for it…. beefsteak tomato! It was just too good to make up my own. I recommend that you all go to your local grocer and ask for a beefsteak tomato and wait for the young boy to ask you what that is. I am resisting the urge to go pinch some produce as I type this.
The baby can also apparently sense light and pressure so I’ve gotten a jump start on annoying the crap out of our kid and shining a flashlight on my tummy and Angel asked me if that was mean. We clearly have some different parenting styles to hammer out in the next 5 months.
On a serious note, Angel was so proud to paint the nursery (though he wouldn’t admit it). My brother and sister-in-law offered a couple of times to come help paint since I couldn’t and Angel was always quick to say “well I don’t mind.” So far he’s taken down wallpaper, repaired walls, primed, and painted the sage green on top:
the sun was setting when I took this, so take my word for it that the green is more sage and less angry army.
Yesterday he went to Home Depot to get more paint supplies so that he can finish it off.
My pregnant coworker put the fear of God in my eyes today at lunch when she told me about registering for their bundle of joy. Angel and I decided that we were going to wait 2 more weeks to see if we’re having a boy or a girl before we register but my coworker explained the 5 hour horror that was registering as a first time parent. I made fun of her for taking so long and she told me that the employee at Buy Buy Baby said the average is about 4 hours. So she recommended that we start now and update when we know the sex of the baby.
I brought this up to Angel and braced myself for impact (he famously decided 5 minutes into the wedding registry that I have authority to just decide what we need). I even told him that I can get started online and then we can just swing through the store to make sure there’s nothing he wants to add and I was completely surprised by his reaction: “You didn’t start it already without me, did you??!!” like it was the worst thing I could have suggested. I said it could take 4-5 hours so maybe we should start now and split it up into a couple of trips and he was like “Maybe we can go Saturday since we aren’t doing anything.”
I always knew that Angel was so excited to be a dad, but it’s extremely adorable to me the way in which he shows it while trying to seem so casual and nonchalant.
These are tears of hormones (alright, and maybe a little love for the guy).
14 Weeks and Counting
I really feel like I’ve started half-assing this trimester of pregnancy. I’m writing about being 14 weeks pregnant today, but that’s about 4 days late and a few dollars shorter. I’ve also forgotten to take my prenatal vitamin more days then I would like to openly admit and I think I ate healthier before I was knocked up. But you know what? I’m doing my best and I have faith that that’s going to be enough… Until my kid blames his C in Algebra on the Tuesday I forgot to take my prenatal vitamin while he was 14 weeks in my belly. And you know what I’ll say then? “You’re Welcome.”
So let’s get on with it because I know all of you non-pregnant readers are just dying to know how miserable I’ve been this week.
So my baby is 3 1/2 inches long. That’s about the size of a fist, unless you have giant man hands and then it’s about the size of my fist. Take that. I’m also starting to notice a decrease in the crap symptoms from the first trimester. Except for morning sickness because DEAR GOD let’s not let that one go anywhere. I don’t, however, feel liked warmed over ass 100% of the time anymore. It’s only about 43% of the time now. ‘Tis a pregnancy miracle!
That’s about it. I have a little more energy but I can’t venture too far from my bathroom still. Do I have the “glow” yet? Oh no, that’s just the sweat from trying to shove my giant ass into my jeans before work this morning in a move I acquired from the WWE. You know what else doesn’t look right? My shirt. It’s like “aww! Cute carb belly, but geeze hit the gym from time to time.”
Sigh
You know what else we’ve been doing? Everything baby! We said all along that we were going to wait until the second trimester before we started really planning for baby, and I feel like we really took off running. We were declared second trimester last Monday, purchased a car last Tuesday, cleaned out the garage for future baby storage on Saturday and started painted the nursery on Sunday.
We also broke down and hired house cleaners, whom I love, who are coming today. You know why house cleaning day is so wonderful? I never come home to work when Angel’s been there to a clean house. Love
Baby Gift
Angel bought the baby a present this week:
But since our baby can’t drive for a few more months, Momma’s going to enjoy it instead.
The baby is excited to have a car to come home from the hospital in, he just doesn’t know it yet…
Second Trimester Bliss
Yesterday I went in for my 12 week appointment (even though I’m actually 13), and I have to say that it was probably the best yet! We heard the heartbeat for the first time (we’ve only ever seen it thus far), got the due date moved up 2 days (November 25th now!!), and was officially declared second trimester. When I asked what that meant about miscarriage risks now, his answer was “there’s always a risk, but you’re going to deliver this baby.” Further proof that it’s okay to keep calling this one our “take home baby.”
And because I can’t shut up about my pregnancy and this is the internet so I’d like to see someone try and stop me, I’m going to further talk the talk.
I can’t stand the stupid bean and fruit comparisons: “This week your baby is the size of a kidney bean!” “This week your baby is the size of a small plum!” So I’m going to make up my own yummy craving-inducing comparisons. Starting now. This week my baby is the size of a jumbo shrimp (mmmmmm), or a very small ramekin of tartar sauce. I’m also growing amazing, gorgeous, strong nails like a super hero. I see 6 more months of manicures in my future to show these puppies off.
Most pregnancy books still call week 13 part of the first trimester, but they can suck eggs, frankly. They also say that maternity clothes may just start to make an appearance this week, which I find funny because I’ve been wearing maternity pants for at least 2 weeks now. I decided that my baby shouldn’t be confined to restricting waist bands just because some book tells me so.
You know what else I’ve learned? Step away from Google, crazy lady.
What Lies Within 