He Thinks He's the Baby

Sam loves what he thinks is his new giant kitty bed. I think it's the cozy velour sheet that he finds most appealing. While we don't want to condone this behavior, we just can't get mad at him when we walk in and he looks up at us with squinty, groggy eyes so full of kitty happiness.

I don't know if he'll enjoy this space so much in a couple of weeks when a screaming baby is occupying it. Who knows, though - Sam may become Baby Neener's favorite crib toy.

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According to Stephen, There Are Just Too Many Douchebags Out There

I can't think of a more festive way to kick off Christmas, can you?

http://www.globalorgasm.org

I had no idea creating world peace could be such a sexy endeavor.

(Hopefully Adam doesn't already have this posted as his WTF of the Day. But seriously, WTF?)

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Only Two More Weeks.

Our doctor's appointment this morning was quite an eventful one.

(1) I've put on two pounds in the past week. I blame giant monster baby, for surely it wasn't from the dessert pitch-in we had for our office Christmas party on Friday or the additional half dozen cookies I ate at my mother-in-law's on Friday night.

(2) I was treated like both a stress-relief ball (when the doctor checked my abdomen to feel the position of the baby) and a hand puppet. Much to my surprise, turns out, having your cervix checked is NOTHING like the usual checking they do down there during annual lady exams. (In other words, OUCH!!)

(3) My doctor thinks it may be best to induce me a little early. Apparently, Baby Neener is quite the overachiever at thriving in my womb. Or, I'm quite the overachiever at growing babies. Either way, as she put it, if I really want to wait until my due date or later for him to arrive naturally and see if I'm capable of delivering an eleven-pound baby, more power to me. I did not find this option very appealing, so I decided to choose the alternate option. I am scheduled to be at the hospital at 6 a.m. on January 2 to be induced into labor. Now, I am being induced a little early because there will be a better chance of me being able to deliver normally than if we were to wait; however, there is still a decent chance I'll have to have a Cesarean. Several people have asked me today why she isn't inducing me next week if the rapid growth of the baby is the issue. I will tell you - after 12 years of being on-call during Christmas week (including on Christmas Day), she thinks she deserves a year of being off for Christmas. Understandable, I suppose, but this is the year that I'm giving birth. Why can't she wait until next year to travel to South Carolina to spend Christmas with her son?! So, the earliest she will be on-call again is January 2.

I have to admit I'm freaking out a little bit. I am totally not a morning person to begin with. I know I won't get any sleep because - HELLO - I will have the dreaded labor lingering over my head. I will be starving my ass off - I'm not supposed to eat much after midnight because if I do, I'll apparently more than likely puke it back up. To top it off, there's no guarantee that doing this will ensure I'll have a normal, "easy" delivery. A giant monster baby is going to be forced to try to escape through the most petite area of my petite body. I am scared.

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Week 36: The Beginning of the End?

Much to my amazement, there are only four more weeks until my due date. Even more to my amazement, I'm beginning to hope this baby's delivery comes prior to my due date. Whenever I have a Braxton Hicks contraction, I find myself a little disappointed when another one doesn't follow. Or, when I think I'm having a cramp, I get a tad bit frustrated when it turns out to be just gas. I'm not a masochist; I'm just starting to feel worn out, stretched out, and beaten up from serving as Baby Neener's life vessel for the past nine months. People have said that by the end I'd be looking forward to the labor. Up until the past couple of weeks, I thought they were crazy. I stand corrected.

Several people have said I look like I've started to drop during this week, and I agree. I can tell he's further down than before - sometimes it feels like he's trying to claw his way out down there. (Way down there.) I've read that when the baby drops, although it causes more pressure on the bladder and makes walking and sitting more difficult and uncomfortable, it does alleviate the discomfort in the diaphragm and ribs. As my doctor informed me, though, he's big enough so that as he drops his toes are still finding their way into my rib cage and when he stretches out I still feel really short of breath, so I'm just left a breathless, waddling mess. How fortunate for me! I also noticed in the bathroom mirror the other morning that my boobs are no longer resting on top of my belly as they had been for the past couple of months - yet another sign Baby Neener must be traveling south.

My main complaints are still backaches and lack of sleep; however, new aches and pains have begun to rear their ugly heads in the past week or two. I'm feeling more internal pains than before. I assume this is probably because the baby is taking up even more room and further squishing my organs and bones? My hips have become more stiff and sore - hopefully this is because the baby is down there planning his exit route. My hands have swollen a little bit - I'm no longer able to wear my wedding ring. And, last night as I was changing into my pajamas, I noticed I had CANKLES for the first time. Yuck! Luckily this morning my ankles were back to their normal size, but my feet still looked a little puffy. My whole body in general has just felt much heavier this past week - so much so, that my feet get sore really quickly when walking and I'm in need of more arch support in my shoes than before. I pulled a muscle in my foot the other day, in fact. My gait now consists of a very graceful waddle-limp combination. Overall, I am feeling the most physically inflexible I've ever felt - I feel like a giant Kim-ka-bob.

But don't get me wrong - I really have enjoyed being pregnant and look forward to doing it again one day. Part of me feels as if this pregnancy has absolutely flown by, but another part of me feels like I've been pregnant forever. I remember in the beginning of my pregnancy feeling anxious and even a little sad about the changes my body was going through. Now, at the end, I strangely feel a little anxious and even a little sad about losing my pregnant body and (eventually) transforming back into my normal body. I'm definitely sad that I won't get to feel my baby moving around inside of me anymore. There's an indescribable bond I've developed while sharing my body with the little squirt and, as excited as I am to finally meet him and have him in my arms, I'll really miss the connection we have right now. Admittedly, I will also be sad not to get the special attention I have become accustomed to lately. I definitely haven't abused the fact that everyone is practically at my beck and call - and voluntarily so - but it's been really nice knowing I could take advantage if I wanted. However, I won't miss the backaches. Or the awful way my clothes (don't) fit. Clothes - REGULAR CLOTHES! I can't wait to get those back.

We will have our next doctor's appointment this Monday morning - if there's any news, I'll be sure to post about it. Otherwise, I guess it'll be another week of Stephen enduring my moaning and groaning as we ride out the storm.

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A Glimpse of Baby Neener

Our ultrasound this morning confirmed what everyone already knew: Baby Neener is a big baby.

He's apparently already at full-term size, weighing in at approximately 7.5 pounds, and is estimated to keep gaining about a half a pound per week. I have four more weeks to go. Do the math yourself; I'm choosing to remain in denial.

I asked my doctor if she's concerned about this, and she stated that there are always added concerns when the baby is large, especially in terms of how the delivery will go. Big babies are more likely to do more damage to your body coming out, there are higher risks of having a difficult labor, and there is a higher chance of the need for a C-section. I asked her what the game plan is and basically, for now, she's just going to closely monitor my progress. Next week she will begin checking my cervix on a weekly basis and she said if I begin to dilate she may induce me a little early. However, if I don't begin to dilate, we'll just ride it out until the due date.

For the most part, we learned nothing we didn't already know. Although, I did gain a substantial amount of fear of my upcoming labor. That made it all well worth it.

We have uploaded the short ultrasound video if you would like to take a peek. It mostly consists of the technician taking boring measurements of the top of the head and cross-sections of the abdomen, but there are a few good shots of Baby Neener's sweet little face and profile. (Note: the ultrasound doesn't start until about 23 seconds into the video.)

Our 7.5 pound baby appears to have really adorable chubby cheeks. Gee, I wonder why?

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Sophie Would Look Beautiful in the Pink One

Bored, I stumbled across this site when perusing through different blogs.

Kitty wigs - I need one! It's just too bad my cats won't let me play dress up with them for longer than 2.7 seconds. Otherwise, the $50 would so totally be worth it.

However...I bet they'd fit Baby Neener's little newborn head...Perhaps I should register for the electric blue one?

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Another Fun Challenge

I'd figured that, as I became all big and roly poly in the last month or two (or three) of my pregnancy, it would become increasingly difficult to maneuver and perform certain tasks that had up to this point been a piece of cake. As the baby takes over residence of your entire abdominal cavity, it's quite challenging to bend over or reach beyond your belly. Things like putting on my socks, shoes, tying my shoes, shaving my legs, picking up things off the floor, getting out of bed, getting out of the car - basically anything that requires stretching downward or the use of abdominal muscles, also requires much imagination, calculation, and grace. I had expected all of this, though, and I had prepared myself for this sense of disability.

In the past couple of weeks, however, I've reached another level of sad and pathetic that no one, not even any of my books, forewarned me about - that I'd have difficulty wiping after I use the potty. With my arms being short in length and my torso being so ginormous, I'm afraid I'm going to hurt myself by falling off the toilet from the contortions in which I have to bend in order to perform this most basic of basic tasks.

I didn't realize pregnancy would involve me practically becoming an invalid. On the one hand, I absolutely refuse to ask my husband for assistance in this most personal of departments, but on the other hand, it could be good practice for all those diaper changes he'll be doing for Baby Neener...Poor Stephen. Let's all pray for his sake and the sake of the last shred of dignity I have that I don't grow much rounder in the next few weeks.

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So Not Cool

When is it okay to wear a Year 2000 Mickey Mouse jacket? Before you answer "never", you're apparently wrong. According to one lady, apparently, it's fashionable seven years later. You know, once it becomes a vintage collector's fashion piece.

You're probably jumping in your car right at this very moment to run to your closest Goodwill or Salvation Army to find yourself a similarly sweet trendsetting piece, but once you locate that awesome turquoise windbreaker with the giant Tazmanian Devil on the back or the hunter green fleece pullover with Winnie the Pooh embroidered on the left chest, you may find yourself unsure of exactly how and when you should let your classiness shine. The answer is simple: At work, of course. What other outer apparel would look as smart with a pair of pleated, highwater slacks and chunky loafers a la 1994? My only suggestion to this woman would have been to add a lovely satellite dish-sized set of bangs smack in the middle of her forehead. That would have been professionalism at it's finest.

As much as I wanted to put out an emergency call to Stacy and Clinton, I reminded myself that it's people like that who make me appear to be much more stylish than I really am, and I figure I can use all the help I can get. See, there really is a place and a purpose for everyone in this world.

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If He Were a Dinosaur, He'd Be Gigantisaurus Rex

This morning we went to the first of our now weekly doctor appointments. While the doctor was measuring my uterus, she paused and asked both Stephen and I how big we were when we were born. We both replied we were seven-something. She said she thinks he'll be larger than that - probably at least in the eight pound range - and scheduled us to have another ultrasound next week to get a better estimate of the baby's size. I asked her if she thought there'd be any problems for me to deliver vaginally because that seems to be a shared concern for some people and, of course, she replied that there's really no way of knowing until I'm actually giving birth. COME ON. This is one instance in life in which I do not want to take the "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it" or "let's play it by ear" route. I want plans. I want to know what to be prepared for. I do not want to go through twenty hours of labor and then have the doctor decide maybe a C-section would be a better option for me. I know a couple of ladies who had this experience and I know I do not wish to join that club. Talk about having the worst of both worlds. There had better be both a mathematician and an engineer in the ultrasound room next week toting lots of compasses and calculators and survey equipment. We must get this equation solved pronto.

Happily, at least we'll get another sneak peek of Baby Neener next week. It's going to be weird seeing a full-sized baby lurking in the depths of my body - I know he's changed a ton since the last time we saw his tiny little fetus body at the end of August. Stephen will likely post another video like he did of the last ultrasound, so stay tuned...

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The Ingredients of Baby Neener

I've stated previously that I haven't really had any cravings during my pregnancy - I haven't craved any weird food combinations and I haven't desired any foods so strongly that I've had to send my husband to the grocery store at 2 a.m. However, I have noticed a pattern of foods that consistently have sounded good to me and, as my appetite is increasingly growing along with the baby, I'm eating more and more of these things. This topic isn't particularly interesting, I know, but one day Baby Neener may ask what he's made of, and thanks to this posting I'll be able to tell him his exact composition.

* An almost daily dose of Italian food; especially pasta or pizza. My favorite tv dinner that I frequently fix myself after work when Stephen isn't home is the Smart Ones Three Cheese Ziti Marinara. (I ate this for dinner this evening, in fact.)

* 1-2 bowls of fruity cereal per day. Pictured below is the snack I just finished eating: a bowl of Frankenberry cereal.

* 1-3 glasses of Meijer 2% organic milk daily. We usually buy whatever organic milk is on sale at the various grocery stores - so as not to pump Baby Neener full of growth hormones because, as you can see from my previous post, growth hormones are the last thing I need for him to be ingesting - but I've recently discovered my palate prefers the Meijer 2% organic in the plastic gallon jug. The other brands and the half gallons in the earth-friendly cardboard containers just don't seem to taste as good. Baby Neener loves a tall glass of this, too, but he likes his with chocolate syrup.

* A couple of handfuls of Craisins a day, sometimes by themselves, but usually enjoyed on salads.

* Salads. Not because of the vegetables, but probably primarily because of all the Craisins I sprinkle on top, and due to drenching them in my favorite salad dressing, Newman's Own Family Recipe Italian.

* Apples and apple juice. I'm very thankful to have an appetite for apples right now; I'm sure they are the reason I haven't been plagued with the common pregnancy woe of constipation. They are my little digestive guardian angels.

* Popcorn. I like to eat this with a tall glass of apple juice.

* Ginger ale. Mmm......fizzy and refreshing.

* Ice water. Weird, but it's highly satisfying.

* Powdered donuts with a glass of milk. I hate the way my stomach looks like an ice-capped mountain after I'm finished eating them, so I only occasionally have them for a snack in the evenings when I want to shake things up a bit from the usual cookies and milk snack.

* Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies with a glass of milk. Which reminds me, I only have three cookies left; I predict a trip to Wal-Mart once Stephen gets home.

* Chocolate. Duh. What eight-month pregnant woman doesn't have this as a staple in her diet??

* Cheeseburgers!

How obvious is it that I'm a little obsessed with food right now? I just ate that bowl of cereal, but I think the Tapeworm is already hungry again.

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Week 34: Feeling Ready to Burst

I've only got six weeks to go until my estimated due date. On the one hand, that seems like no time at all, like it's the day after tomorrow. After 34 weeks, 6 weeks is nothing. On the other hand...have you seen me lately? I look like I have an inflatable stomach, and I feel like it's so full it's about to pop. I can't imagine continuing to get larger for six more weeks. Am I really capable?

Many seem to think I'm not. The majority of people I've spoken to seem to have a very strong opinion that I will have this baby early, either due to the fact that I'm, supposedly, too small to carry much more baby weight or because, again supposedly, my tummy is so large that the doctor just has to be incorrect about my due date, that I'm farther along than they think I am. So, at our doctor's appointment a week ago, I asked my doctor her opinion in the matter, thinking she'd probably be the one with the most educated guess. She was no fun, though, and just shrugged her shoulders and said there's really no way for her to know and, once again, it could just be that I'm going to have a big baby. This reminded me of a conversation I'd had with Angela and Jeff, in which they had remarked that they never felt their questions or concerns were really answered at the doctor's. Either doctors are really just as clueless as we are, or they don't want to tell anyone anything for fear of a patient becoming irate or, worse, suing if the outcome varies even slightly from what the doctor predicted. I totally understand this and don't blame them, but it's extremely frustrating when the lady who works in the mailroom seems to have a stronger opinion about how my pregnancy is going than my own doctor does.

Either way, whether people are correct in their prediction concerning my due date or not, I'm beginning to feel more and more ready for this kid to pop out. And I'm even beginning to think that him arriving early, without being premature, of course, wouldn't be such a bad thing. I've been quite fearful about the actual delivery and wondered on a daily basis how in the world am I possibly going to get through it? I think I'm beginning to figure it out: Labor = Relief. I got up four times to pee last night, and afterwards it took 15-30 minutes each time to fall back to sleep. I woke up at least 10 times with abdomen or back aches and had to flop around endlessly to find the position that offered the least amount of discomfort (and I say "the" position because I have found there is only one position at each given time that is tolerable...and each time this one position is different). I swear I spent 3/4 of the day sleep-working and pray I didn't get drool on anything of high importance. The other day, I gathered up one load of laundry, put it in the washer, took out one load of laundry from the dryer, folded and put the clothes away, and I felt like I'd spent four hours at the gym. Physical exhaustion - from doing a load of laundry. Pathetic. My back, right now, is absolutely killing me - from sitting in a nice, cushy office chair. I struggle putting my shoes and socks on, worry about falling and breaking my hip when attempting to put on underwear and pants because I can't lift my legs more than a foot above the ground, and washing, shaving, and/or applying moisturizer to the lower halves of my calves and feet is next to impossible. And, I've discovered I no longer can lift my bodyweight - I tried to hoist myself up on the kitchen counter the other night, and nothing happened. I couldn't even raise myself a quarter of an inch above the ground. Mom is right - I probably ought not to lift myself onto the counter anyway for a couple of reasons - I hadn't thought about that when I made the attempt - but it was still the strangest feeling to not be able to.

To sum it up: I think I'm almost done being pregnant for now. Almost. I'm not quite ready to give up The Giant Squirmy living in my belly or all of the attention I get from looking like I've swallowed an enormous basketball. People voluntarily pick things up for me when I drop them, and they open doors for me. Best of all, for once I actually have an excuse for my insatiable appetite and am encouraged by others to do all I can to fulfill it. I'm really going to miss all of those Chips Ahoy cookies and cheeseburgers. (Not together - I still haven't had any true cravings, let alone weird ones. Disappointing.)

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Giving Thanks

I'm afraid I've been a bit on the negative side lately - like, for my whole life. Honestly, I'm actually a very happy person and I do realize I have a lot to be happy about. For some reason, though, I have the annoying talent of overlooking the positives and focusing right on the negatives, and stress and pregnancy have further honed this talent recently.

This morning, I opened my inbox to find a very sweet e-mail that Laurie had sent on Thanksgiving simply stating that she was thankful I was her friend. Again, maybe it's those darn hormones, but receiving that little message made me feel so good and made my heart melt. It also made me realize that I tend to forget to stop and count my blessings regularly, so I thought I'd shake things up a bit on here and actually post something positive for once. No negatives. (At least not on this one posting.) I feel I need to make this list for those times in which I'm feeling sorry for myself, for when I feel like everything is falling apart, or for when I'm simply having a bad day.

The top ten things for which I am thankful this year:

(1) My husband. I could write a novel on how wonderful he is as both a person and as a spouse. He is my saner half, the glue that holds me together. He absolutely works his ass off and is always trying to better himself to provide as good a life as possible for us. He is going to be the best father a kid could have and I absolutely cannot wait to witness the bond develop between him and Baby Neener. I am so grateful that one thing I do NOT have to worry about is my child having a deadbeat dad or me having a deadbeat husband. I am thankful to have a person other than my mother in my life who will always be there for me, will always support me, and will always love me. I am also thankful to be married to a man who will actually cook me dinner, iron my clothes, and clean my toilet. It's really no wonder that I love him so much.

(2) My pregnancy. Yes, yes, I've whined and complained and moaned and groaned SO much about it over the past several months, and, let's face it, the act of being pregnant does have a lot of discomforts and scary changes attached to it. But I know the end result of this pregnancy will be the start of a new life that I will love more than my own life. It will be the start of a wonderful new chapter in my life. It will mark the beginning of my very own family. I am so very, beyond words, thankful for this baby and for everything he will bring to my life. And for as much bitching as I do about carrying him, I also know I'll miss him when he's outside of my body. After all the nausea, backaches, and exhaustion I've experienced, feeling him squirm around inside of my tummy makes it all worth it, even when it feels like he gets a foot caught in my ribs. I think I'll probably feel a little loneliness inside of me when the little critter moves out.

(3) Family. They are always there when I need them, and will do anything to help out. My life is in the process of changing radically and I'd hate to think how much more difficult this transitory stage would be without their support and assistance. And once the baby is born, I know my survival of the first year will largely be thanks to the assistance of family. I'm sure my baby will be as sweet as pie, but I'll be going crazy with all the changes - hormonal changes, sleep changes, stress changes, body changes, lifestyle changes, diaper changes - and on top of all that I know my evil perfectionist side will taunt me the entire time, reminding me that I could be doing things better, that I'm an awful mother. I know it will be family who will be there to offer advice, remind me that I'm human and am not Robo Mom, step in and help out when it's obvious I've been pulling my hair out, and most importantly, will love my child almost as much as I will. After all of that, I know they won't proclaim to the whole world what a mess I am. That would mean they would have to admit to being related to such a mess. That's what keeps family secrets within the family.

(4) Friends. They have given countless words of wisdom, listened endlessly to my whining and worrying, offered neverending support, have made me laugh and lifted my spirits. They are my family away from family, and even honorary members of my family (you know who you are, Angie). Without my friends, I seriously believe all of the crazies that live inside my head would escape through my nose and eat me alive.

(5) My kitties. They are soft, snuggly, warm, and greet me at the door in the evenings when I come home feeling like I've had the living Hell beat out of me. They say having pets lowers your blood pressure, reduces loneliness/stress/depression, and improves your mood, therefore making you a potentially healthier person. I am a firm believer in this. However, I do think that if they would use the toilet, feed themselves, and not throw up on our down comforters, they would be much more effective at improving my health. But maybe that's asking too much?

(6) Having a roof over my head. It's expensive. Like, VERY expensive. But, it sure is nice not living on the streets.

(7) Having vehicles in good running condition. Walking or riding my bike to work would just plain suck. Especially at eight months pregnant in November.

(8) Good health. (Knock on wood.) Actually, my health hasn't been the greatest this year, in comparison to most years. I've had the stomach flu twice, two or three colds, and, although it was from pregnancy hormones and not my health per se, months of nausea. However, to my knowledge I did not acquire any major STDs, leprosy, or emphysema. For this I am quite thankful.

(9) Naps. They have brought immeasurable comfort and relief to me in the past eight months. My only complaint is that I could greatly use more of them.

(10) Chocolate. I really don't think I need to say anything more.

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Possible Reasons I'm a Grumplesaurus Lately

* Pregnancy hormones. One second there's a song on the radio that I'm struggling not to cry to, the next second it's over and the lame-ass Cheeseburger in Paradise commercial comes on (it's only played three times per commercial segment) and I'm screaming, "I f**king hate f**king Jimmy F**king Buffet and this f**king song and this f**king commercial!" while frantically punching at the radio buttons to change the station. On the other hand, this is probably a common reaction to hearing this commercial so maybe it's not just me - bad example. I haven't been a crying wreck, and even when I get bitchy I'm not directly bitchy to people. I don't think I've even been too mean to Stephen - in fact, I think I've been much more mellow to him since I've been pregnant, and he's probably dreading the moment when those pregnancy hormones begin to plummet. But, in my mind, I'm slowly becoming more crazy and unstable. I get overwhelming feelings of giddiness for no good reason. A few minutes later, I'll have an incredibly strong urge to cry. Before I know it, I feel pissed at the world and want to punch the next person that walks by me. My head right now - I picture it filled with a million tiny funhouse mirrors, contorting thoughts and feelings into creepy and freaky monsters. Weren't those thoughts and feelings creepy and freaky enough all on their own??

* Stress. Starting next week I will get to see my husband for an hour at lunch and then not again until between 9:30-10:00 in the evening. Saturdays I'll get to see him after 7:00. At least we'll still have Sundays. At least for now. And bill paying is still a struggle, so it's not as if we're getting some big monetary compensation out of this. And, the house is progressively going to shit because I can't keep up with the cleaning due to my inflexible abdomen and sore back. Which leads me to...

* Increasing bodily discomfort. Bending over is becoming a thing of the past. I have to flop and roll myself out of bed with the aid of the headboard to make my 2-4 tinkle trips in the middle of the night; lying in bed and wetting myself is becoming quite the temptation. I have good days and bad days concerning my back, but even on good days exertion for more than five minutes turns the day into a bad day. I think my belly now weighs approximately thirty pounds and sometimes I catch myself while walking trying to carry it in my arms to alleviate the pulling. Not being able to do what I want or need to do is not going over very well. Dammit.

* Lack of sleep. 2-4 tinkle trips in the middle of the night I can handle. The thirty minutes it usually takes to get "comfortable" enough again once back in bed to fall asleep I can't handle. If Baby Neener wakes up, which he does half the time, this may add to the thirty minutes as he kicks the shit out of whichever side I'm trying to lie on. And Stephen wonders why I push him so hard if he starts to snore...

* The approaching holidays. Namely, Christmas. Namely, Christmas shopping. Everything about this freaks me out right now. Lack of money but lots of people for whom to buy...the physical act of walking and being on my feet for hours while shopping with my back as sturdy as it is and my belly weighing forty pounds (yes, I do believe it's grown ten pounds in the past five minutes)...the mental anguish of not only trying to pick out the "perfect" gift for each person but also having to maneuver through the herds of other crazy Christmas shoppers...THANK GOD my purses aren't big enough to hold any weapons, else I might not have to worry about Christmas shopping for reason of being imprisoned.

* Work. It's been particularly stressful for the past few weeks due to several reasons which I won't bore anyone with, but even under normal circumstances I find it absolutely exhausting. If you are able to, I highly recommend either taking time off or working part-time during the last trimester of pregnancy. I work in an office and sit in front of a computer all day long. One would think an eight-month pregnant woman could easily handle such sedentary work for 37.5 hours a week. And maybe a normal eight-month pregnant woman could handle this, maybe I'm just a big wimp. But still...if I was allowed to and could afford it, working half the hours I'm working now would be heavenly. And I think I'd have much fewer daily fantasies of homicide.

Always one to play Devil's Advocate, I can see many possible positive sides to all of this. Obviously, I realize the lack of sleep is something I'm just going to have to get used to. The trouble I'm having now is simply preparing me for all of the nighttime feedings and changings and screamfests I'll have the pleasure of enduring. (I still have my fingers crossed that Baby Neener will love sleep and being lazy as much as his mommy and daddy do. Just like I'm still hoping in the next month doctors will devise a way for women to give birth without actually giving birth. Like, beaming the baby up and out of the mother's body and into her arms. It could happen.) Maybe all of this will help me to be a more patient person. And more importantly, a more patient mother. I physically can't do a lot of things around here on my own, and Stephen is too busy and tired for me to bark at him to do these things. So...I just have to wait until he's available to get to them. (AND IT'S KILLING ME! Patience is soooo lame!) And, maybe all of this will help me to prioritize my life and my lifestyle. Maybe -shocker- the fact I haven't been able to buy a pretty new Coach purse in over a year isn't the end of the world. Maybe -shocker- using generic face cream isn't going to make the skin on my face peel off and leave me looking like a burn victim. (I just bought it a few days ago, though, so I can't say this with absolute certainty. I'll keep you posted if I discover otherwise.) Maybe -shocker- I don't have to spend a buttload of money on every single person in our family for Christmas - maybe they will understand and still love me if I only spend a little on them this year. Maybe -shocker- Christmas really isn't about the gifts, after all! (How far into the depths of Hell will I be condemned if I confess that the gifts really do add quite a bit to the holiday? I mean, really, if there were no gifts, would people really get as excited and worked up as they do about Christmas? I have to admit I very much look forward to giving and opening gifts. I like gifts for my birthday - why shouldn't there be gifts for Jesus' birthday, too? Otherwise, Christmas is just another Thanksgiving or Easter or Fourth of July. That is just a boring way to celebrate our Lord and Savior's birth, if you ask me.) Maybe the aches and pains of this pregnancy and everything stressful that's happening in our life right now is to show us what's really important in life: FAMILY, HEALTH, LOVE. That maybe, even if things don't go the way you'd hoped or planned for them to, things can still be turned into a positive experience, one that will make you stronger and more wise with gained perspective.

I f**king hate perspective. And I can figure out the meaning to the stupid lesson without actually having to live through it!

Sorry, surely those are just the hormones speaking, right?

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Climbing the Rickety Ladder of Success

Today when I returned to work from lunch, I was called into my boss' office to meet with him and my office manager.

"Oh great," I said as I shut the door behind me. "Am I being fired? And is it because I've gotten so fat? Because I could really use a nice-sized settlement check from the company over a discrimination lawsuit."

"No, Kim. We actually have good news. We've pushed and pushed for this, and Region has finally given in. We're giving you a promotion." And then they both went on and on telling me how wonderful and invaluable I am.

And I was like, "Thanks...Yeah, I know."

All of the positions in the company are tiered - so two people could hold the same position, but be at different levels within that position. I guess it's a way for them to make us feel as if we have real potential to move up within the office when, in fact, we really don't. So now I'm no longer a lowly Legal Secretary I. I'm a bigshot Legal Secretary II. The power I feel is overwhelming. I can't wait to get that extra - what? - $2.50 per paycheck. We're raking in the big bucks now, and I know it's just a matter of time before I'm president of the company.

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Dairy Barn Preparations: Part III

We're still slowly (but surely) piecing the baby's room together. It's frustrating because (a) I have an exact vision in my head of how I want to decorate (which NEVER happens), but, financially, we can't afford to do it exactly that way so I'm having to really stretch my creative skills to accomplish similar results for less, (b) I can't do very much physically because of the giant basketball residing in my gut which leaves me depending largely on Stephen to do the majority of the grunt work, but (c) poor Stephen has been having to work so many hours at now three different jobs because of our financial situation and the lack of luck in finding a "real" job so he doesn't have much time to devote to working on the baby's room.

Thanks to Angie's and her mom's generousity, though, we at least have the most important piece of furniture for the baby - the crib. I think they bought it for us because they, for some strange reason, weren't too keen on my idea of just putting Baby Neener to sleep in a drawer or a basket. It arrived a couple of weeks ago and even with Stephen's busy schedule we were able to put it together within a couple of days. I think it looks very lovely and sophisticated, even without a mattress. But, oddly, Stephen doesn't think Baby Neener should have to sleep on the hard wooden mattress platform, so I suppose we'll be making a trip to my mom's sometime in the near future to pick up the crib mattress that Ella used a few years ago. I can't believe how much he's spoiling this child already. A cushiony place to sleep? Geesh, then what? I suppose he'll need clothing and food, too? Stephen's parents also generously gave us an old dresser for us to use in the baby's room. It needs a lot of work done on it, but we've bought the new hardware for it and Stephen has even starting sanding it, so hopefully in the next week or two it will be completed.

We made a spontaneous trip to Bolingbrook, IL, yesterday to visit our favorite store, IKEA, and found lots of cheap fun stuff for the room, like light fixtures and wall hangings and even a very basic changing table that kinda looks like it's made out of matchsticks. We're hoping it'll be sturdy enough to hold his ginormous weight considering the fact that everyone is under the belief I'm going to give birth to a forty-pound baby. We were even lucky enough that Angie was willing to make the long trek out into "the 'burbs" to see us for a little bit and have dinner with us. I think she really enjoyed listening to me whine the whole time about how badly my back hurt, watching me hike my maternity pants up every thirty seconds, and witnessing me occasionally hobble around like Frankenstein with a bad limp when the baby would press on my sciatic nerve. I personally can't think of any better way to spend your Saturday evening than with Pregnant Kim.

Keep your fingers crossed that progress will continue and I'll have more to report soon. Otherwise, my impatience may kill me. With Stephen's assistance. I get the feeling he's not the biggest fan of the impatient side of me.

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Doctor Confirms the Obvious: Tummy Is Large

This morning we had our 31 week checkup with the doctor. We're now having the pleasure of going every two weeks for the remainder of the month, and then in December we'll begin making weekly stops. It's weird seeing my doctor more frequently than my relatives and friends.

I've gained another three pounds in the past two weeks (surely that has nothing to do with all the cheeseburgers?), putting me at a total weight gain of about 14 pounds. The results from the bloodwork I had done last time were normal. The baby's heartbeat is normal. My tinkle is normal. My aches and pains are normal.

After my doctor measured the length of my uterus like she does at every visit, she sat down and began entering the measurements in her laptop. Nonchalantly, she made the comment, referring to my uterus, "Hmm...You're actually a little larger than normal, but that's okay." Already knowing the answer, I tentatively asked, "What does that mean?" "Well, it could mean you're going to have a big baby." To that I replied, "No! There's no room for a big baby in there!" She kind of chuckled as if to say, just you wait....

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Week 31: Down to the Single Digits

Week 31. Approximately nine weeks to go. Nine. As in 9. As in no double digits. As in the beginning of the end that will mark the beginning of the hugest beginning I've ever embarked.

Oh, @&%$!

I'm scared of labor. I'm planning on having an epidural, which scares me, too. I've heard it doesn't hurt, but I know there's a giant needle involved that will be stuck in my spine and I know I'll have to have an IV. I've never had an IV before, and I don't want one. I've also read that they often put catheters in when you have an epidural. I don't want one of those, either. I don't like the idea of not being able to feel my lower half at all - this totally freaks me out. I've never had to stay in a hospital before - I've only had to go to the hospital for my own health once, and that was when I was seven for stitches in my leg - and even though I'll be delivering in a brand new, super nice, more-like-a-hotel-than-a-hospital hospital, I don't want to have to stay in the hospital. I'm scared of the pain, I'm scared of the stuff that takes away the pain, I'm scared of something going wrong...I'm just plain scared.

I know all of these feelings are normal and almost every woman has these fears regarding childbirth. However, I just want to feel excitement and elation. All this damn fear is putting a damper on things.

I am growing increasingly more excited with each passing day, though. Time has absolutely flown by, and now that the holidays are approaching, I know time will go by even more quickly. The baby's room has a CRIB set up in it now - though we still have to pick up the mattress from my mom's - and we've got a closet full of tiny clothes in which to don him. We have the car seat and stroller, so we can be as mobile as a newborn allows you to be. We've got diapering supplies, two diaper bags, grooming supplies, towels, a first aid kit, and, of course, my boobs. Baby Neener will be well-fed, clean, groomed, properly dressed, able to legally travel, and he won't have to sleep in a drawer. The panicking I was doing last month regarding feeling unprepared is beginning to subside as people have so graciously and generously helped out to fluff our little nest. Of course, other kinds of panicking are replacing the old panic (see previous paragraph), but feeling as if we have all the necessities before the baby arrives takes a huge weight off our shoulders.

Physically I'm doing pretty well - things are basically the same as they have been. My back is hurting more and I'm beginning to have more difficulty sleeping, but I had expected this. I bought a super sexy (NOT) maternity belly/back support belt just over a week ago, and it seems to help alleviate much of the pain. Or, at least, it makes it tolerable, and that's all I ask for. I've also been experiencing more pressure on my sciatic nerve this past week, which is ever so delightful. There's nothing like walking briskly to the bathroom at work because the baby suddenly decides to treat your bladder like a whoopee cushion and all of a sudden having your leg freeze up from your hip down to your knee, causing you to instinctively clutch your right buttock with your hand and hobble in a Frankenstein manner the rest of the way, praying to God the pain doesn't make you forget to hold your tinkle in. It's fun. For other people to witness. But, I haven't put on 80 pounds. As roly poly as I feel, I'm not miserable, and that's good enough for me.

Baby Neener is as active as ever. My favorite thing right now, other than searching for discounted Halloween baby items, is feeling him push and "slide" under my skin and trying to figure out what body part of his I'm feeling. Even though his kicks are at times uncomfortable and sometimes even slightly painful, it's an amazing feeling as his movements become more mature, no longer feeling like squirmy thumps but instead feeling like a tiny person is trying to break out of his uterine prison from within my body. I can't even begin to express how unbelievably excited I am to see this little guy for the first time, how much love I feel for him even as he's wiggling his toes defiantly in my ribcage and how much my love grows every day, how completely crazy the concept is that in a couple of months we'll be bringing a new person into our house, into our lives, into the world.

Despite all my whining, this motherhood thing - I think I'm really going to enjoy it. After the labor, of course.

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Speaking of Burgers...

We finally ate at Bub's (located on the Monon Trail in darling Old Town Carmel) for the first time this afternoon for lunch. Their specialties are burgers and ice cream. The smell of the cooking cow flesh permeates the air in a most heavenly way, so we'd always been tempted to stop in but never did since I wasn't eating meat. However, since I've become a big pig in the past few weeks, we went ahead and went crazy and had ourselves a couple of nice, big, fat, greasy burgers (with cheese for me) and a large basket of fries. The wonderful thing about their burgers is that they're seasoned and grilled - they taste homemade, and in a good way - not burnt like my homemade. And, you can get the onions for your burgers grilled, if you like. Mmmm...

Hey, it's not my fault. They don't have Boca burgers so I had no other choice.

Any of you who haven't been there, next time you're in the neighborhood visiting us and we're trying to think of a place to eat, remember to suggest Bub's. It's sinfully delicious.

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My Many Apologies to the Cows

I've begun eating meat again. Only some meat - not all meat - and pretty much only meat that's really bad for you. Like Wendy's cheeseburgers, and McDonald's cheeseburgers, and Burger King's spicy chicken sandwiches, and Arby's roast beef. Oh, and Burger King's whoppers. Not the junior size, either.

Sadly, I will also admit I ate a grilled hotdog at my mom's. (Actually, I had two.)

I'd been a vegetarian for just over a year and a half, and never slipped up. Right after I discovered I was pregnant, I became very paranoid from reading certain nazi-esque strict pregnancy books that I wasn't going to be able to get enough protein in my diet and my baby would turn out to be a giant glob of jell-o. It's true that you can get plenty of protein from non-meat sources, but I can only enjoy so much peanut butter, dairy products, and beans on a regular appetite, let alone on a nauseous pregnant appetite. So, within a couple of weeks of getting our positive test results, I decided it would be wise to temporarily begin eating meat during my pregnancy - but only white meat and fish. I successfully forced myself to eat chicken three nights in a row, and that's precisely when my nausea successfully kicked in full force for approximately two and a half months.

And thanks to the timing of the morning sickness onset, I still have zero desire to eat chicken (with the exception of Burger King's spicy chicken sandwich, but I'm not sure that's actually real chicken). Not even fried. And that was always my favorite. Bacon also reminds me of being sick thanks to Stephen fixing it in June when I not only had morning sickness but also the stomach flu. Oh, God, the awful, wretched smell. Bacon was also always my favorite. Ruined. Absolutely ruined.

So I went back to my meat-free diet during my days of nausea, which wasn't tough considering my diet was basically food-free. However, over the past couple of months, I've gone back to the dark side, ever so slowly, a burger here, a roast beef there. And I'm picking up pace. What went from having meat once every couple of weeks progressed to about once a week, and now is almost daily. Really, though, I haven't been craving meat; I think it's just the fact that my appetite, though HUGE, is still a little on the finicky side. All of the usual meals I ate I was just plain getting sick of. And honestly...I am exhausted, cranky, achy, and just plain lazy. I haven't got the energy at this point in time to grow a baby, keep myself functioning, and come up with new and tasty vegetarian meals that myself and my picky husband will eat. Stephen came home this evening with supplies for tacos for tomorrow night, ground beef included. I'm too tired to resist.

Will I revert back to my meatless diet after the baby is born? I've been relentlessly teased since I quit eating meat (like it's any of people's business what I do and don't eat), but I'm really proud of myself for having kept it up for as long as I did. Only time will tell if I will go completely meat-free again; I'm not going to make any promises. I honestly do feel badly about it - I know it's totally lame in most people's opinion, but I really hate the killing of animals. I think it's cruel, and I think it's gross. I grew up seeing countless pig trucks heading to Wilson's/IBP/Tyson from the local farms. We lived on the same side of town as the slaughter plant and in the summertime, ugh, the smell! The SMELL!!! I also have to say I felt healthier and somehow cleaner when not eating meat.

But dammit, those Wendy burgers sure do taste mighty good. And do you realize how difficult it is to maintain a vegetarian diet when you eat out as often as we do and your husband hates cheese, eggs, and vegetables? Thank God for pasta and cereal.

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The Gayest Little Kitties of Them All

It's been quite awhile since I've documented the love affair between our two male cats, Sam and Charlie. They were dispensing some nauseatingly cute doses of affection on each other recently right next to me, so I couldn't help but take a few pictures. Strangely enough, they don't seem to mind much when I invade their privacy with the camera. Maybe they're just into exhibitionism, too?

Hopefully living with these two will also help prevent our child from growing up to be a close-minded homophobe who hates cats.

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Dairy Barn Preparations: Part II

The Dairy Barn, though not quite open for business, is coming along nicely. Stephen and I painted the room Wednesday and Thursday of last week, and since then I've finally managed to put everything from the baby shower that belongs in the nursery away. (Car seat, car seat accessories, and feeding gear are still strewn all over the downstairs, but I'm sure they'll find homes soon enough, too.)

As you can see, the room is still basically empty, with the exception of the cats, the bookcase, and the television, which is temporarily sitting on a filing cabinet that doesn't belong in the room. The closet, on the other hand, is filled to the brim with baby clothes, diaper bags, changing supplies, and health care items. Our crib, which was an extremely generous gift from Angie and her mom, has been purchased and is waiting at the store for us to pick it up - we just have to con Stephen's parents into letting us borrow their van and maybe his dad's assistance, since the crib weighs slightly over 100 lbs. and is very bulky. Hopefully within the next few days we'll be able to pick it up and assemble it - it's killing me knowing it's sitting at the store instead of in Baby Neener's room. I'm so damn happy and relieved - my baby won't be sleeping in a drawer after all!

We still need to get a rocker, a small media stand for the tv, a dresser (the one we picked out for our registry is long so it can double as a changing table), curtains, and some wall accessories. Oh, and a breast pump. After all, we can't very well call it the Dairy Barn if there's no milk pumping devices. I am hoping we can manage to get most, if not all, of these items before we get our baby.

Stay tuned for more (*yawn*) exciting updates...

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Don't Be Fooled by the Look on His Face

Charlie is absolutely loving all the new baby stuff coming into the house. This picture was taken the day after my shower, as I was unpacking all of Baby Neener's goodies from the gift bags. I figured if he's going to lie all over the baby clothes (which hadn't been washed yet), he may as well model them for me.

I hope Baby Neener looks this cute in a hat, but maybe a little less pissed off.

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Week 29: The Expansion Continues

The baby has officially taken over me - socially, mentally, and physically.

The past week has been very much baby-focused as we've been working on putting together a nice bedroom for the lad. The room has been painted - it turned out darker than I'd expected, but I think it'll look really cozy once we have some furniture in there and the antique white curtains I envision (still have to find or make them) will brighten it up a bit. I'll post pictures of the room this week once I find my magic wand to wave all of our shower goodies into order. It's really difficult to put stuff away when you don't have anywhere to put it. As I'd mentioned in my previous post, my family hosted a baby shower for me on Saturday afternoon and everything was fantastic. People driving 1, 2, 3, 4 hours and giving up their precious Saturday afternoon just to watch me open presents and show their support...my family cooking and cleaning and making invitations and name cards and decorating...my family and friends so generously keeping me occupied for what seemed like hours opening all their gifts...all of the advice and compliments and hugs and kisses given to me...It was really overwhelming to me how generous, thoughtful, and loving these people in my life are, and I can't begin to thank them for making me feel special enough that they'd endure a baby shower! Actually, the hostesses did an excellent job of making it not feel like a baby shower. It was exactly as I'd wanted - just a gathering of friends and family enjoying each other's company over an Italian feast, cake, and presents. I think Ella enjoyed herself more than anyone, though, since she not only got to be the primary gift-opener, but also had not one, but TWO babies to gawk and giggle at. Unfortunately, only a handful of pictures were taken by Stephen - his excuse being the fact that he hates taking pictures (very nice) - and the ones that were taken didn't turn out very well. I know a few people took some, so if you have any you'd like to pass along to me, I'd be very appreciative!

Since the shower, I've been spending my evenings writing thank you cards and attempting to put baby stuff away which, as I stated, is challenging considering the lack of a dresser or baskets or anything in which to store all of it. I did get to begin packing our diaper bag, though, which felt very...odd. I have a hard enough time packing for myself and figuring out what I need to take with me, let alone having to now do this for a little baby. It all comes back to the realization that someone's life is going to be lying in my hands...what a terrifying thought! Poor Baby Neener is just going to have to learn to accept the fact that there will be constant trips to the store when we travel, because his mommy will have mysteriously packed five outfits for a three hour outing, but will have forgotten to pack diapers.

When I'm not actively doing baby preparations - when I'm at work, sleeping, or socializing - I'm thinking about the baby or baby preparations. I've only reminded myself twice in this post alone that we don't have a darn dresser yet, but mentally I've gone over this fact again, and again, and again, and AGAIN. At least 512,632 times today. And those are just the number of thoughts concerning the dresser. My mind is constantly racing - mostly in good ways, mostly due to excitement - I like to daydream about holding the baby, seeing him for the first time, smelling the top of his soft, freshly cleansed little baby boy head, taking him to visit his grandparents and watching them smother him with love, having everything set up and waiting for him in his room, and, yes, dressing him in all of his adorable and unbelievably tiny little baby boy clothes. I try not to daydream about the impending doom of labor, our financial situation (i.e., how the hell are we going to afford a child?!), our job situations, or the other ten bazillion things that could very easily go wrong with the baby, with us, with our lives in general. This whole parenting thing doesn't compliment my worrywart tendencies very well, and I know it'll only get worse and will never go away. I think the most annoying part of it all is the fact that I can never decide whether I'm stressed out or really damn excited. I've told Stephen that I keep having the weirdest emotions recently - I'll suddenly feel the happiest of happy and the saddest of sad at the exact same time. I feel like I'm bi-polar, except I experience the mania and depression together. It's very bizarre and I pray it's not a sign of me beginning to lose it.

I'm really enjoying this time of my pregnancy, though. The due date is far enough away that I haven't begun to panic too too much, but yet is close enough that I can really start to get excited. My main complaint right now is the constant backaches that only seem to be getting more uncomfortable as I grow. There's really no relief for them - I'm pretty much equally in discomfort whether I'm standing, sitting or lying down. Also, I've become thoroughly convinced that my baby is actually a giant tapeworm, consuming all of my food, leaving me with an insatiable appetite. Luckily it doesn't take much to make me full, since my stomach doesn't have much room for expansion anymore, but about a half an hour after I eat I'm ready for more. I really wouldn't mind this so much - remember the agony I felt when I had zero appetite because I love to eat - except for the awful indigestion I get in return. I haven't been having much heartburn, but instead I'm blessed with the ability to throw up a little in my mouth every time I burp. Mmm. I've also reached the point in my expansion in which I feel I honestly cannot grow any larger. I know if I were to read this in a couple of months I'd laugh hysterically at my poor, naive self, but I already feel like a tick about to pop. I think I've also begun experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions - my abdomen will suddenly become very tight for a minute and will feel so "full" that it's uncomfortable.

Baby Neener is constantly growing stronger, which both excites me and frightens me. His kicks haven't quite become painful yet, but they're definitely becoming more pronounced and sometimes uncomfortable. He really enjoys lightly thumping around in one spot on my right side - his tiny little bumps and thumps are so sweet and cute - and then WHAM! he'll haul off and suddenly kick me with all of his might in my ribs. It usually startles the crap out of me more than anything, and I just picture him in there wickedly chuckling over the fact that he's already blessed with the ability to torment me. He'd better learn to be a little nicer. After all, I'll be the one dressing him for the first few years of his life. There are soooo many adorable baby girl clothes out there I'm just dying to buy and could very easily dress him in.

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Dairy Barn Preparations: Part I

This weekend Stephen and I FINALLY finished carting out the remainder of the office junk from Baby Neener's room - granted, most of it is still sitting in boxes or randomly piled in the hallway right outside of the room, but that's beside the point. We also made an exhausting trip to Home Depot to pick out paint because, for some reason, Stephen doesn't want to keep the pale pink that's already on the walls. It took a good hour, but we finally found the perfect shade of sage green. (Or at least we hope we won't hate it once it's on the walls.) Our goal is to paint the room this week - as you can see, I've begun taping the baseboards - because my wonderful mothers and sisters are throwing me a baby shower this Saturday and it would be ever so lovely to have a prepared room all set to throw Baby Neener's treasures into.

Stephen suggested we document the transformation of the office into the baby's room. Since the office was such a huge pigsty that I absolutely refused to document the prior condition, we're instead recording the transformation of this lovely clean room into Baby Neener's room or, as Stephen has decided to refer to it, the Dairy Barn. Because, ha ha, I'll be doing a lot of nursing and milk pumping in this room. My dear, clever husband. So hilarious.

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Her Baby Cousin

Ella is so excited about her baby cousin I think she can hardly stand it. Every time I see her, she asks me, "Aunt Kimmie, when is my baby cousin coming?" Or, when she's super excited, she'll leave the "cousin" out of it, so it's just her baby. And really, in her mind, I believe she does view this as her baby; you know, the ultimate gift her favorite aunt could ever give to her - a real, live baby that will grow into her very own personal playmate. I'm just that awesome, you know. So anyway, I question her in return, "Well, when did I tell you he'd be here?" Her eyes will brighten as the lightbulb flashes on in her head. "After Christmas!" "That's right," I reply. "Christmas has to happen first, and then you can start getting excited about the baby coming because it won't be long after that that I should have him." Of course, this occasionally leads to the exhausting discussion of when Christmas is - after Halloween, after her birthday, after Thanksgiving - but, typically it satisfies her impatience for at least a couple of hours.

Ella loves to inform me of what a wonderful big cousin she's going to be - actually, she's going to be such a wonderful cousin that she's stepping up her role a notch and proclaiming that she's going to be his big sister. I never correct her on this because I think she knows she won't technically be his big sister; I think this is just her way of letting us know what a close relationship she plans on having with Baby Neener. So, if she wants to be his honorary big sis, then more power to her. I think she must lie in bed at night reviewing her mental checklist of all the great accomplishments she wishes to pursue with her baby: reading to him, holding him, giving him his bottle, teaching him to ride a bike, playing in the pool with him, and teaching him to potty ("...and when he goes in his pants I'll say, 'ewww!'").

We visited with her last weekend, and now it seems she's taken the excitement over my pregnancy to the next level. As you can see from the picture below, she's pregnant, too. And apparently, she's much further along than I am, as her "belly" (comprised of a pillow that kept popping out from under her dress) greatly outshines my belly. My four year-old niece, pregnant. Her mother was so proud. I'm still waiting to learn when she'll allow me to come over and play with her daughter again.

I'm very relieved, though, that Ella is so excited over having another child enter the family. I was a little worried at first because Ella has literally been the center of the universe for all of us over the past four years, so I wasn't sure how she'd handle the news that someone new was going to come along and require attention that would normally be given to her. However, I've come to the realization that Ella lives in a world of adults - quite a boring world for a little kid - and craves companionship from a fellow youngster. Not to mention, she'll finally not be the youngest person in the family, which has quite a few perks of its own. Like, someone to blame your mischievous doings on and - FINALLY - someone other than Pa Pa whom you can boss around.

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TMI Warning

As you may have noticed, I have been primarily using my blog over the past several months to document my pregnancy. For one, I was too sick and/or lazy and/or cheap to go out and buy a pregnancy journal to write in. Besides, if I had, chances are I would have been too lazy to write in it. I don't know why, but I find typing easier and more enjoyable, so I figured this method of documentation would be more utilized. Two, it's so much easier to direct people to my blog when they ask questions than to repeat stories a million times. Again, this goes back to me being lazy. Three, I'm pregnant. It's kind of a big deal and it's kind of on my mind a lot. You know, like all the time. I've found it quite difficult to post about any other subject lately because, well, my mind is just a teensy bit focused on the crazy/exciting/scary changes that are taking place in my body, life, and marriage. Four, it's my freakin' blog and I'll post about whatever I want to post about. If people don't like it, then people don't have to read it. With that being said, I'm forewarning you, my beloved readers, that I'm about to divulge what most would probably consider a little too much information. Get out now while you have the chance.

Now that the squeamish have gone and all that are left are those who are morbidly curious - people after my own heart - I am free to talk about whatever I want to talk about, and I want to talk about my boobs. Not my old boobs, though...

My new magical mommy boobs.

I asked my mother just on Sunday night when I could expect to start having leaky breasts. She said it'd probably start to happen in the 7th or 8th month. The past two mornings I woke up with light-colored dried spots on my t-shirt. I expressed my suspicion to Stephen this morning that I thought the leaking may have begun. Then, sure enough, I was sitting at work typing away when I got a strange, warm, prickly sensation in my ta-tas. A little scared, I gingerly looked down my shirt and the weirdest thing was happening: liquid was coming out of my boobies!

Of course milk production is totally natural. Of course I was expecting it to happen. But how did I feel when it did happen? Honestly, a little creeped out! My boobs have never leaked before (obviously), so according to my past experience, this was NOT a natural occurrence. At the same time, though, I felt amazed and strangely proud and wanted to stand up and tell everyone in the whole world about my incredible boobs. Yes, yes, I know I'm nowhere near being the first or last woman to have leaky pregnant breasts, but that really doesn't make any difference because this is the first time I'm having this experience, so in my head, YEAH, it IS a huge milestone!

For some strange reason, Baby Neener is pretty excited about this big occurrence, too.

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Reaching a New Level of Unsanitary

The cats sleep in our bed with us, even lie on our pillows. They lie in our bathroom sinks and shower. They romp all over our clean clothes on laundry day. And now, it appears we're allowing them to climb into our refrigerator and help themselves to all the pickles and bottled water they want.

If we ever invite you over for dinner, please disregard ever having seen this picture.

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Week 26: Farewell, Second Trimester

I am almost two-thirds of the way through my pregnancy; this is the last week of my second trimester.

It's been a good trimester, and I'm kind of sad to see it go so quickly. It brought me eventual relief from the wretched first trimester. I had renewed energy so I could actually get off of my sofa most evenings, if I'd wanted to. I was big enough in size so that I looked pregnant rather than just bloated, but still small enough that I remained fairly mobile, without many aches or pains. I know all of this is about to change, and in some ways it is already.

I still feel pretty energetic in spirit, but I've noticed in the past week or two that my body is beginning to lag behind. I've had minor back aches the entire pregnancy, but they've increased a great deal recently. If I'm not complaining about my back hurting from sitting, I'm whining about it hurting from walking, standing, doing laundry, or sleeping. And sleeping...oh God, how I miss sound sleeping! I see now what my books have meant when they've stated that pregnancy sort of prepares your body for the arrival of a newborn - all of the tinkle trips in the middle of the night and the inability to get comfortable really makes it difficult to get much rest, so I guess when the baby comes along it won't be as shocking to my system to be up much of the night with him. I feel like I'm going through training for the marathon that is new motherhood. Bending over is really becoming a challenge already - Seriously, I had no idea putting on my underwear would be such a balancing act, and it's only going to get worse?! And, something I didn't think I'd experience so soon but have discovered in the past week is shortness of breath. There are times, like right now, that I'm able to breathe normally and easily. But at other times, like all morning long this morning, I feel like I can't catch my breath, like I can't suck in enough oxygen to satisfy my lungs. I've been feeling these strange squirmy sensations in my rib cage over the past week, so I guess my organs are probably beginning to shift and squish upward and out to make room for Baby Neener. I've been feeling very full lately - I feel like a scarecrow whose torso is overstuffed and overflowing with straw. And I still have over three months of growing to do? How is this possible? Nevermind, I don't want to think about it.

It's not all bad, though, and the things that are bad aren't "first trimester bad." It's tolerable. (Says the girl just entering the final trimester. We'll see what I'm saying in a couple of months.) And, it's comical at times. I think it's very funny that I have to contort my body in strange ways to shave. Putting socks on my feet? Laughable! I just know Stephen finds it totally arousing the way I flop around in bed like a fish out of water when trying to turn myself over. It's also nice because now that I'm getting bigger, and as some have accused me of beginning to waddle, people can sense my growing helplessness and offer to help the poor pregnant girl. Today at work, Tatiana offered to get my water out of the refrigerator for me and "meet me halfway" because I looked tired, and Jennifer wedged herself between the copier and wall to rescue some papers I'd dropped in front of her. The best part? I don't even have to ask - people are just nice and help! I'm terribly excited about the freeing of Baby Neener in a few months, but I can't help but wonder how I'm going to function with the loss of my round, pregnant belly. I'll have to start picking up my dropped pencils myself again, and I'm just not sure I'm ready for the return of that kind of responsibility.

The most fun part, I think, of this upcoming trimester is going to be the increasing awareness of the realness and inevitability of the arrival of our baby. It's been easy to put off thinking about certain aspects of parenthood or making some preparations for his arrival because we've been able to shrug and say we have until January. January is not as far off as it was, and is only going to grow nearer. While sick and pretty much homebound most of the weekend, I did finally wash all of Baby Neener's clothes, blankets and sheets. The baby's room is still a mess, but slowly the mess is being transferred into boxes to be placed in the garage indefinitely. It's my goal to have the room ready-to-paint in the next couple of weeks. My Lord, for once in my life I'm not completely procrastinating doing chores - could it be I'm actually excited about this kid?

According to my weekly pregnancy update e-mails, I can expect to grow about a 1/2 an inch per week from here on out. (What? Come on, is that even possible?!) Baby Neener is around 13 inches long and weighs about two pounds. And the news that made Stephen proud? Baby Neener's testicles have begun their descent into his scrotum! If that's not party-worthy, I don't know what is.

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In Sickness & in Health, We Celebrate Number Five

Today I decided to stay home from work and bask in the pleasures of being ill, which pretty much consists of laying around, moaning, groaning, sneezing, blowing my nose, and coughing. I won't complain too much, though - the last time I was ill I spent the day puking, nauseous, and bed-ridden. Give me a cold over the stomach flu any day. Needless to say, things haven't been very exciting around here the past week. Stephen was sick with the same crud last weekend that lingered around for the majority of last week. Lucky me - I read that, because pregnancy lowers the resistance of your immune system, illness tends to last a little longer in pregnant women, so maybe I'll get to experience two weeks of sick. Lovely.

In the midst of The Sick, Stephen and I celebrated our five-year wedding anniversary on Friday, the 28th, by bargain hunting for summer clothes on the clearance rack for Baby Neener at Old Navy and eating Papa John's pizza in the comfort of our living room while watching Law & Order. I can't say it was the most romantic evening we've ever spent together, but that two hours out of the house was pretty wild, indeed, considering the fact we were both feeling like crap. Stephen was very sweet, however, and brought home an autumnal bouquet of flowers for me, which are pictured below. (Notice Charlie in the picture, trying to gobble up leaves, who I tried to push numerous times away from the flowers but was unable to due to his insanely strong greenery obsession. This is why the flowers are being kept on top of the mantle, out of the reach of kitties' mouths.)

It's hard to believe it's been five years since our wedding day, but then again, it's also hard to believe we've only been married for five years since we've been together for eleven years total. I think the fact that we've been together since the beginning of our senior year of high school, back when we were still kids, makes it feel like we've been together all our lives. People have asked me whether I ever feel like I missed out in college and in my early twenties, not getting to date around and really become my own person. Honestly? Sure, occasionally at the time the grass would seem greener and I'd be envious of my friends who were dating lots of guys and partying and having fun. There were even a few times in early college when I struggled with the decision of whether or not to stay in my relationship with Stephen. But, luckily I was a smart girl and realized what a good guy I had. I often think about the fact that having found each other when we were so young probably also kept me out of a hell of a lot of trouble. Just think of what a giant whore or drunk I could have become! (Because, you know, that's so in my nature to be those things.) Looking back, I don't regret in the slightest my decision to stay with Stephen, rather than to "live it up" during my college years. I feel very blessed that we were able to sort of grow up together during that rocky transition from the teenage years to young adulthood. I'm happy that we were given the chance to grow slowly as a couple over our high school and college years so that when we finally were able to get married, we had already established a strong foundation between each other. And, as I sit here and feel Baby Neener kicking inside of me, I'm happy we waited five years into our marriage before having children so that we had plenty of time to mature into a couple wanting to start a family, wanting to further expand our relationship, rather than a couple feeling like they ought to start a family.

Anyway, happy anniversary to my Neener - thank you for putting up with me and my insanity over all these years and for being such a wonderful husband. I honestly can't wait to enter the next phase of our marriage in January.

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