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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Word from the Doctor: You Could Break Your Placenta Doing That

This morning we had our fifth doctor's appointment. Other than getting to hear Baby Neener's heartbeat again, the visit was pretty dull and uneventful.

Well, scratch that - I did learn something new. I told my doctor about the unfortunate tumble I took last weekend because the right piece of my "landing gear" is still a little tender. I figured it was fine, but it was the only thing I could think of talking about when the doctor does her usual pressing us to ask her questions or discuss things. I always feel like I'm a bad, uncaring mother when we go in there and never have hardly any questions for the doctor, but with all of the pregnancy books, the internet, and friends and family members who have recently been pregnant, most of my questions or concerns get answered prior to my doctor's visits. But, I want her to feel like she's important, so I try to come up with a couple of random things to discuss. This time I chose my sore boob. She reassured me and stated she highly doubts I've broken any milk ducts. However, shame on me, I should have called them after I fell and if I ever fall again I had better inform them right away in case they need me to go to the hospital for a few hours of monitoring. I replied that I would have had I landed on my stomach. She informed me that it doesn't matter - even if I don't land on the baby, even if I land on my butt, the fall could jolt my uterus and cause bad things to happen, like make the placenta rip away. Luckily, she said if everything has been fine this past week and the baby's been active (oh God has he been active), then I didn't do any damage because there would have been signs by now if I had. WELL THANKS FOR TELLING ME NOW! Maybe it should have been common sense for me to call in, but honestly, if I didn't land on my stomach, how was I to know I still could have harmed the baby? Shouldn't they have instructed me at the first appointment that if I fall, no matter how slightly, that I should call them because I could do damage without knowing it? I mean, wasn't the "clueless" sign I had written all over my forehead noticeable enough?

I'm not bitter or anything. And I don't feel like a moron. Or a bad mother. Really, I don't. Not at all.

Aside from that, everything appears to be fine. I've put on another five pounds over the past month, which brings me up to a total weight gain of a whopping seven pounds (I'd lost three in the beginning, but I'm up ten from that point). The baby's heartbeat was normal and stronger than last time - the nurse didn't have to search for it at all like they have had to in the past. Next month I will have what will hopefully be my last batch of bloodwork when they do the glucose screening test. And then, after the next visit, I'll start going in to see the doctor every two weeks instead of every four. The last trimester is quickly approaching!

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Big Realization

I was reading my "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book last night before I went to sleep, which I hadn't opened in at least several weeks. I flipped forward to the next month from where I had last read, only to discover I'm not in month five as I'd been thinking. I'm in month six.

Yikes.

Actually, I'd overheard my attorney talking about me to someone on the phone the other day and the fact that I'm six months pregnant. I remember thinking, hello, five months pregnant, come on don't you pay attention at all? Guess it's been me who hasn't been paying attention. But, since they don't really count pregnancy in months anymore, rather it's kept track in weeks, it can become difficult to figure out exactly where you are on the scale without doing some serious calculating in your head. And looking at the calendar. And I just don't have time for such nonsense. I've got lots of episodes of "Law & Order" to keep up with on TiVo.

Anyway, I skimmed through month six of my book, and do you know what it fails to mention? How I'm going to feel when six months of carrying Baby Neener slaps me in the face unannounced, making me realize just exactly how quickly this incubation time is passing, and also making me realize how unprepared we are.

Sure, we've got some of the "important" things taken care of already. We're in love, have a strong relationship that's been built over eleven years, married for several years and out of the "honeymoon" phase, have a house, have insurance, and have supportive family and friends. And, oh yeah, we planned on having this child. I mean, we actually had sex for procreational purposes. Crazy, I know.

But the "little" things, the things I would oh-so love to have all figured out and taken care of by the time January rolls around, the things I have no guarantees will get done? Driving me insane. And now that this deadline we've created for ourselves is fast approaching, I'm finding myself even more panicked. The baby's room is still mostly full of office clutter that needs to be boxed up and moved to I-don't-know-where. The baby's room still needs to be painted, and in order to do that, paint needs to be purchased and afore mentioned office clutter must be boxed up and moved to I-don't-know-where. Baby Neener has no crib, no dresser, no curtains (but does have curtain rods, thanks to the sweet deal I found online at Land of Nod several months ago - I rest so much easier at night knowing I rushed out and found flippin' curtain rods), and no rocker with which his mommy can rock him to sleep. Of course, I guess he doesn't need to sleep considering he has no crib. Ah, but wait - I did read in one of my books that you can let your newborn sleep in a drawer - whew! Guess he's good to go, then. Our financial planning came across a very big and unexpected hurdle when the new job Stephen took in early June didn't work out. Unfortunately, he's still yet to find anything solid or anything more than part-time crap work. Which not only leaves finances tight, but also leaves potential plans we had made - such as us wanting me to stay at home with the baby - up in the air and needing possible alternative plans in place. Like daycare. Which leaves me with one word on the expense of good, reliable, well-accredited daycare - OUCH.

I realize we all have our own forks in the road of life, ups and downs, battles to conquer - I know we aren't immune from the frustrations of life, even if we are expecting a child. I also realize things could be "much worse" - and, as Stephen so appropriately replies to such phrases, "Well, no shit, things can always be worse, that doesn't make me feel any better." It's just really frustrating when there's this part of me screaming I TOLD YOU SO repeatedly in the back of my mind, the pessimistic part of me that was very, very apprehensive about starting a family, not because I wasn't ready to or didn't want one, but because I just knew there would be problems that would pop up. I know how my luck goes, how the plans always seem to change when you least expect them to - I knew the minute we locked ourselves into starting a family was going to be the minute our problems went from being just our problems to our family's problems. I'm a perfectionist, and it's crippling to me when things don't go exactly as I want them to.

Which brings me back to my realization. I'm in my sixth month of pregnancy. I've got just over three more months to get over myself, to not only tell myself everything is going to work out but to actually convince myself to fully believe that is the case. Because it always does work out. Maybe not the way we want them to, maybe not the way we'd planned them to, but things always do work out. I just wish we had a little more time for things to work themselves out.

Of course, I pride myself in my sweet procrastination skills. Maybe it's a good thing we only have a few more months left to go. I always wrote my best essays the night before they were due. Who's to say I can't work the same magic under pressure in our current circumstances? I think I can, but pray for the sanity of myself and those close to me. I get pretty crazy with stress when I'm under the pressure of procrastination under normal circumstances...mix that in with pregnancy hormones and discomfort and we could have a possible explosion on our hands...Just kidding. I hope.

For the record, one thing is for certain, however, and that is the fact that my baby will NOT be sleeping in a drawer. I will sell a couple of my beloved purses, if necessary, to buy him a crib, but he will NOT be sleeping in a drawer. Call me spoiled or snobby, but that's just a whole other level of sad and pathetic to which I refuse to let myself or my child go.

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Week 24: Goodbye Feet, Hello Jimmy Legs

Things have been relatively peaceful in the world of pregnancy over the past few weeks - I must be experiencing the time that is supposedly the "most comfortable stage" of pregnancy. I still tire pretty easily, but that horrible, sickening exhaustion I was going through seems to be long gone. I'm more prone to heartburn, but as long as I keep an eye on what and how much I eat, and take Pepcid at the onset, it's not too bad. Minor backaches are almost a constant now - doesn't matter if I've been sitting, standing, or laying down - but they've yet to be so bad that I can't handle them and have to take Tylenol. As my feet have disappeared from a straight-down view, I've also noticed that my belly button is beginning to become more and more shallow. I don't know why, but this totally creeps me out so all I can do is try not to think about it or watch it happen. (Although, you know there'll be a future post on my new outie.) With the belly gaining circumference, it seems my center of gravity is beginning to either shift or disappear altogether. I know it's very hard to believe, but lately I've found myself stumbling significantly more than usual. In fact, on Sunday I gave everyone an unnecessary scare when I fell at Mom's. You know if, God forbid, I were to slip in the tub or fall down the stairs and hurt the baby, I could chalk it up in my mind and conscience as a complete accident and maybe one day forgive myself. But, falling because I'm frantically running from a bee as if I were a five-year old child? Honestly, if something had happened to the baby, words can't even begin to describe the amount of guilt I would carry around with me the rest of my life. Fortunately, my right knee and one of the baby's future milk sources managed to somehow break my fall, so I didn't land on my stomach at all. I knew there was another reason women's boobs grow larger during pregnancy - landing gear!

If you're still worried about my tumble, Baby Neener has still been kicking the crap out of me since then. Maybe even more so. I do believe my stupidity has officially pissed him off.

I swear, every week his movements become stronger and more noticeable to me. I feel him almost constantly now - not just when I lay down on my back and concentrate. However, sometimes it's when I'm laying on my back that he puts on the best shows. Last weekend, for instance, I witnessed him press himself (his head or his butt, not sure which) up against my stomach so I could see a large bulge rise up, then slowly move across my belly, then slowly back. It was the weirdest thing and made me equally joyful and creeped out. So anyway, his actions are continually growing more forceful, though they are still enjoyable to me. I do believe he may have inherited his daddy's jimmy legs, and in a couple of months I'm not so sure these kicks will be as wildly entertaining to me as they presently are.

Baby Neener is now around eleven inches long - that's almost a foot long fetus! - and weighs approximately 1 1/4 - 1 1/2 pounds. It sounds like he's pretty busy with important things right now, like more fully developing his brain and lungs, and growing taste buds.

Ever since seeing him during our ultrasound, I find myself spending great amounts of time envisioning what exactly he'll look like. Will he be hairy like me, complete with a little hair patch on his lower back and thick bushy eyebrows? (Thanks, Dad - that's always becoming on a girl.) Will he inherit Stephen's slightly crossed eyes? I hope he inherits my butt, teeth, hair, and feet, but gets Stephen's nose, face shape, hands, and smile. Between the two of us, though, he's bound to be fair-skinned and suffer from acne. Sorry, little sweetie. You'll still be the most handsome Baby Neener of all and, more importantly, you're also apt to inherit some pretty sweet sarcasm skills. Which, I know, one day we will rue for giving to you.

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New Contributor

I, Stephen, have added myself as a contributor to Neener Neener (until Kim reads this and pulls the plug). I have made a post already and hope to make more in the near future.

The Flatulating Unicorn isn't dead. I just have no idea what to do with it.

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All Is Well

Kim and I went to Greenwood to visit the Major and the Colonel to see how they were doing while Mom and Dad were on holiday in Northern California.

The cats are doing fine.

While Mom and Dad are gone, they are being fed and are getting their bathroom cleaned by one of Mom's co-workers.

They were happy to see us. The Colonel enjoyed himself by climbing on everything including the beautifully pregnant Kim. The Major enjoyed himself be constantly being underfoot while I cooked dinner and washed a comforter.

Below are two pics that prove the the felines are indeed in great spirits even though they miss their parents and look forward to their homecoming this weekend.

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Sweater Weather Alert!

I realize it's totally lame to post about the weather, but when something other than an alarm clock or my bladder is able to drag my lazy pregnant butt out of bed before 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning, it just has to be documented.

It's currently a crisp 52 degrees outside, with a high today of 67, sunny, and the sky is a beautiful bright blue with fluffy white clouds.

Thank God fall is just around the corner - I love this weather. In celebration, I'm making myself a couple of hard-boiled eggs, toast, and chocolate milk for brunch (in lieu of my usual oatmeal or cold cereal), and afterward, I may even feel motivated enough to clean out the remaining mess of the office that's still lurking in Baby Neener's room. Or at least some of it.

I know how to live it up.

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The Lone Pregnant Woman

It appears I have lost my two cohorts in pregnancy just since this weekend.

Stephen's cousin, Cassie, had her baby boy, John "Jack" Riley, on Saturday. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to see the little squirt, yet, but Stephen was able to drop in for a brief visit with the Doyles yesterday after his work training in Cincinnati. I can see from the pictures he took he's certainly quite the little cutie, but I look forward to hopefully finding this out for myself soon. Baby Neener is very excited to have yet another little boy in the family to romp around with at all the *yawn* family gatherings.

Dawn had her baby girl, Emerson Paige, late Monday morning. I visited them in the hospital yesterday evening, and they both appeared to be doing great. Emmie had some issues during labor - she apparently thought she needed to come into the world all dolled-up for her awaiting audience. Unfortunately, a girl doesn't have access to many accessories in the womb, so the creative little gal tried to make herself a necklace out of her umbilical cord. Fortunately, her fashion faux-pas didn't do much harm - she did have to have ample tests run on her and was placed in the NICU, but she's doing well now.

I only have this picture Dawn sent to me off her cell phone (of course I forgot my camera yesterday), but you can be certain I'll have more pictures of her up in the near future. I have to say that Baby Neener's future girlfriend (you know, as soon as he gets his butt out of the womb, too) is quite the looker. I think I'm going to have to keep my eye on him...

Congratulations to Cassie & Pete and to Dawn & Jim! I'm sad to lose my pregnancy sisters, but relieved to gain two more people who can show me the ropes when Baby Neener arrives in his clueless mommy's arms in a few months.

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Baby Neener's Future Friends?

I received word today that Dawn is going to be induced into labor this upcoming Monday. I'm so thrilled! I mean, not only because I'm happy that she'll finally get to meet her baby daughter, but because I can get a head start on the approval screening process. See, Dawn and I have decided that our children will be boyfriend/girlfriend and will eventually wed. Dawn, I hope you realize I'm going to need some evenings of watching your child for you so I can get a full grasp of her character and integrity. I don't want my son marrying a floozy, you know. Of course, when Baby Neener arrives, I would highly recommend you do the same thing because with him being my child, he's very apt to have no self control.

And speaking of questionable characters, look at the picture of Rowan I found while perusing The Daily Squink. I guess this picture doesn't surprise me too much, considering the last time I held him he practically mauled me trying to get into my shirt to my boobs. Is this the sort of fellow my child is going to pal around with and look up to?!

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Thoughts on Having a Son

Our ultrasound was this morning, and we had very happy results:

(1) Baby Neener appears to be healthy and normal.

(2) Baby Neener is a BOY.

And, he apparently likes to flaunt his junk. The technician plopped the do-hickey wand on my belly and at the first image that popped up when she focused on the baby she exclaimed, "It's a boy!! He's got it all hanging out right there!" See, she had forewarned us when we first arrived that sometimes they can't tell the gender if the baby isn't in a certain position. I said to Stephen that knowing our child, it probably wouldn't cooperate and after all this we wouldn't get to find out the sex. He said, nah, knowing our child, it'll be spread eagle. Does Stephen know his son well, or what?!

It's funny because it seems like everyone except me knew what I was going to have a long time ago, and sure enough, out of that 50/50 shot, everyone was right. I really had no "sense" or "feeling" on what the baby is, and I really had no strong preference for either. Granted, being a woman, I have to admit a big part of me wanted a little girl to baby and dress up. But, over the past couple of months I'd heard so many people state their predictions that Baby Neener is a boy that I had really kind of gotten myself excited at the prospect of having a son. I think I'm most looking forward to witnessing the development of the father-son bond between Stephen and Baby Neener. When I asked him about how he felt about having a son, he quickly stated he's excited because now he'll finally have someone with whom to play golf and other sports. For me, a girl who grew up solely with other women, this will be a BIG learning experience. But, I have to say there's something strangely comforting about knowing I'll have a son. It's almost like we'll have a back-up man of the house for killing spiders and scrubbing the litterbox and cleaning out fuzzy things in the refrigerator that have made their way to the back, back corner. You know, all those gross things that I don't want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Boys are just cool in that respect - they're tough and don't mind doing crap like that. Or, at least, they put on a good face about it.

I really hope Baby Neener has his daddy's wonderful sense of character and personality. I've always said that Stephen isn't like the stereotypical man - he's not harsh, overly opinionated, stubborn, womanizing, selfish, focused only on sex. I thank God every day he is the sweet, caring man that he is and I hope he passes on some of those sweet genes to our son. Sure, I'll be honest, sometimes I get annoyed when he wants to go visit his parents or my parents on a weekly basis, or when I can't get through to him on his cell phone because he's been on the other line with his mom. But overall, I think it's that family-oriented nature of his that makes him such a devoted and great husband, and soon-to-be father. He really is going to be the best dad ever, and I'm so grateful that, God willing, my child is going to grow up in a household that has two parents so committed to each other and their family. And, since I've been pregnant and am starting to think about some things from a totally different perspective than I used to, I look at Maryann and my mother and realize how lucky they are, that their children actually want to spend time with them and care for them. I can only pray that our children will be as good to us in the future.

Mainly, though, I'm just absolutely THRILLED that there are two arms and two legs where they're supposed to be, and the brain, kidneys, stomach, bladder, and heart seem to be functioning properly. Of course I won't let my guard down too much...there's always the chance that something will go wrong with my child, whether while still inside my body, during birth, or at any point up until I die. It's the curse parents are stricken with for the rest of their lives - horrible worry and fear over their child's well-being.

But for now, at this moment in time, I can breathe easy and be ecstatic over our sweet, healthy boy fetus.

And most importantly of all, I can finally add some gender-specific products to our baby registries!

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A Little Nervous and a Lot Excited

I can't remember the last time, if ever, I felt this strange mix of emotions that I'm feeling this evening as I await going to my ultrasound tomorrow morning. It's kind of like the excitement I feel on Christmas Eve, mixed with the anxiety I used to feel on the day before the first day of school after summer break, peppered in with a little dread which I feel before any doctor's visit.

Good grief - how crazy am I going to feel when I start going into labor?!

I can't express the impatience I've had since the moment I found out I was pregnant. On the one hand, I want to know EVERYTHING, and I want to know it RIGHT NOW - I want to know the gender; his/her name; his/her personality; his/her interests; his/her career choice; his/her spouse; his/her children. On the other hand, I'm actually a little sad that this pregnancy is going by so quickly and it's already time to find out the gender (even though there for awhile I thought I'd be stuck in my first trimester FOREVER). Yes, yes, I know - I could just let the anticipation linger a bit longer and wait until the delivery, but I think it's important for us to find out so we can prepare for Baby Neener as best as we can. I realize it sounds ridiculous to say this while my baby is still in the womb, but I can't help but feel like he/she is already growing up way too quickly. Gosh, I mean, it seems like just yesterday Baby Neener was just a tiny Embryo Neener! And then, of course, beneath those feelings I'm worried they will find something wrong with the baby tomorrow.

To top it all off? I have to try to remember to give myself a cut-off time early tomorrow morning after which I cannot tinkle, as I have been sternly instructed to arrive with a FULL bladder for the ultrasound.

I feel like 8:45 a.m. is about a million years away right now and I can't decide if I want it to hurry up and fly by or if I want to savor the waiting period for as long as I can.

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Week 21: Entering the World of Mommy Pants

I am now in my 21st week of pregnancy, which is quite a big milestone as I am officially just over halfway through incubating Baby Neener. As rough as it's been at times, this pregnancy is still managing to fly by - before we know it, we'll be diapering Baby Neener's little baby butt.

This past week has also marked my surrender to maternity clothes. Granted, I have been wearing some maternity tops for a couple of months, but they were pretty baggy and I still had the option of wearing my regular clothes. But now my relationship with my old clothes seems to be over, or at least on pause - my button-down tops don't exactly button as they should over my belly or my bust anymore, and my regular tops are too short to cover up the bella bands which hold up my regular pants because they only fit when totally unfastened. And the bella bands are another story - Angela gave me two to borrow, and I've worn them religiously for the past couple of months as my belly has expanded. But, as the expansion continues, the bands are becoming more uncomfortable and less efficient at holding up my pants - I find them constantly sliding up my back and belly, leaving my unzipped zipper exposed and my pants hanging just barely onto my hips. It's time, I suppose, to move into maternity pant world. Luckily, Angela and Dawn have given me lots of maternity clothes already. The tops fit wonderfully, so I won't have to buy many of these at all. Unfortunately, though, my legs are shorter than most, so I'm unable to wear Angela's pants and will have to buy some myself. I've already bought one pair of jeans and two pairs of work pants, so I really only need to buy maybe another pair of casual pants and work pants and I should be good to go. But then I also have to worry about my darn boobs, who no longer think they need to fit inside the many perfectly good bras I already own. I've now grown a cup size since April, and from what I can tell, there's probably another cup size to go. I'm just praying my feet don't grow, too, as many women's supposedly do. Call me clueless, because I know I am, or at least I was, but I had no idea this whole baby-making project would require a complete new wardrobe!

Baby Neener's eyelids have apparently finished forming this week and he/she is about eight and a half inches long now and weighs around twelve ounces. I can tell that Baby Neener has really become much stronger in the past week, as I've been noticing more and more movement in my belly. That, or Baby Neener has recently found a way to pop popcorn inside my uterus. Either way, it's a pretty exciting milestone! I find myself spending much time with my hand on my belly feeling the tiny bumps from the outside of my body, and if I lay on my back and look at my bare stomach, I can see it twitch from time to time. Unfortunately, Stephen has been unable to detect these movements for the most part. Today, he finally felt one, but didn't believe me that it was, in fact, the baby's kick he was feeling. He stated that it just felt like a muscle twitch. I retorted, that's exactly what it feels like. So he questioned, well then how do you know it's not just a muscle spasm? I kindly informed him that I've never noticed my lower abdomen to be of a highly twitchy nature and it would be a pretty big coincidence if my lower abdomen decided to become spazzy right around the same exact time that the doctor, all of the books I've been reading, and all of my peers say is the time I should start to feel real fetal movements. Besides, I told him, the baby isn't big or strong enough yet to kick with enough force that would produce much more than this twitching sensation. This shut him up, but I still don't think I fully convinced him. Fortunately, we visited my mom this weekend and not only did she feel a baby twitch or two, but she also saw the movement of my spazzy belly. So, ha! I have at least one witness to the activities of my squirrely baby.

This Friday is a very important day for us, as I will have my ultrasound done and we will finally find out the gender of Baby Neener. I've been surprised by the number of people I've encountered who become discouraged when I tell them we aren't waiting until birth to find out the gender. Really, why does it matter? The gender is already determined - it was at the moment of conception - it's just a matter of whether or not we're aware of it. And why not find out as soon as you can, so you can better prepare? It's funny because I didn't realize how much of a touchy issue this is for many people - I just assumed that since they have the technology now, that most people do find out the gender at their ultrasounds. Apparently there are still a lot of traditionalists out there - obviously these people have loads more patience than what I do, and I admire them for that, really I do. However, my message to those folks is - don't worry yourself for our sake, because it will be just as magical when we find out the gender at our ultrasound as it would be if we waited until the birth. The way I see it, the birth is going to be magical no matter whether you already know the sex or not; after all, that will be the first time we'll get to meet our baby, our own flesh and blood. And, if you are still totally opposed to our finding out whether it's a Boy Neener or a Girl Neener, just let me know - I'll be more than happy to withhold the news from you until I deliver!

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Just a Wee Fetus and Already Completely Spoiled

I think I've figured out why my four year old niece, Ella, is so excited that Aunt Kimmie is going to give her a baby cousin. Turns out, she appears to be reaping many benefits from our procreational plans. Of course, this isn't to say she wasn't already pampered to begin with; quite the contrary, the kid has so many toys, games, movies, and books that you'd think there were four grandchildren living at my parents' house. However, since we've decided to start popping out my mother's grandchildren, some additional perks have arisen for the tike - see below.

This past weekend and probably at least another couple of weekends to come was and will be spent erecting the newest addition to the grandchildren's play paradise, aka, my parents' backyard. So far, they have an inflatable wading pool, a sandbox (which they do cover up when not in use so animals can't potty in it - the reason my mother preferred us not to play in sandboxes at the parks when we were little), a child-sized picnic table, and the beginnings of a huge playset monstrosity that will consist of two slides, a fort, two swings, a baby swing, and a glider swing. As you can see from the picture below, after the playset had begun to be erected, even my parents seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by the size of it. Will that stop their madness? Oh no. My mother is completely ecstatic over her plans to become ruler of all grandchildren near and far - the next project is going to be a playhouse.

My mother's ultimate goal? She flat out told me: Baby Neener will not want to be at home; Baby Neener will want to be at NeeNee & Papa's all the time. She even "threatened" that there will be some Friday evenings when she will come down straight after work, will pick up Baby Neener and take him/her back to her house (and I will not be invited), and if we're lucky we'll get him/her back on Sunday.

My response to that is, You call that a threat? My mother's quest to be the best grandmother ever could really work to our advantage. And, if we could just get Stephen's mother on board to strive to become most crazed grandmother, too, I have a feeling we'll be lucky enough to have all our weekends free and not have to spend a dime on babysitters.

Mothers are wonderful creatures, God bless them.

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Week 19: Good News from the Doc

This morning I took a couple of hours off for some much needed rest after I overdid it a little this weekend. I am so happy that I did. My doctor's office called and left a message requesting I call them regarding my test results from the bloodwork I had done just over a week ago at my last appointment. Needless to say, I totally freaked out because they never call when the results are negative. In fact, for past tests, I've always been told they'll only contact me if something is wrong. I nervously returned the call and - hallelujah! - the results were negative for any abnormalties with the baby. If I hadn't been there to receive that message this morning, I wouldn't have gotten it until after work, which means I would have had to have waited until tomorrow morning to call and get the results, which means I would have gotten ZERO sleep and probably an ulcer from worrying.

Anyway, long story short, Baby Neener appears to be doing great so far. Our ultrasound is just over two weeks away, and I'm hoping we get good results from it, too - i.e., images of a HEALTHY Baby Neener without any legs coming out of his/her head! Stephen is adamant that he doesn't care whether we're having a girl or a boy, as long as the baby's healthy. I have to agree with him. I keep saying, I don't care if it's a girl or a boy, as long as it's one of the two, and not some weird combination of the two. Of course I would still love my baby if it was transgender, don't get me wrong, but I would hate for my child to endure such a hardship.

Week 19 developmental updates: Baby Neener is about seven and a half inches long and weighs about seven ounces, his/her kidneys are making urine, and hair is beginning to grow on his/her head.

As for me, I'm continually growing more and more ecstatic about the little person growing inside of me while, as you can see from the picture, my belly is ecstatic to just be continually growing and growing.

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Charlie Anxiously Awaitsthe Arrival of Baby Neener

For some reason, Charlie isn't the biggest fan of dress up time, but he puts up less of a fight than the other two. He partially humors me, but says he can't wait for his Meowmie to have a real baby so she'll leave him the hell alone.

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Survival of Another Doctor's Visit

This morning we went to our third prenatal appointment with the doctor. Overall, I don't mind going to these appointments - we get to listen to the baby's heartbeat, and we get to get out of work for a couple of hours for a legitimate reason. However, I also find these appointments incredibly nervewracking. Like...how it took the nurse what seemed like ten minutes to find the baby's heartbeat. In actuality, it probably only took her 30 seconds, but her saying, "Where is it? Where is it?" repeatedly freaked me out more than just a little bit. Then, I got the pleasure of having more blood drawn....and we all know how much I love needles and blood. And, the lady didn't use a baby needle on me like the other lady did the last time. Bitch.

Everything was fine, though - Baby Neener's heart is still a-poundin', my tinkle sample was tested and is "normal," my uterus was measured and it's of "normal" size and proportion, I haven't blimped up (YET - I weighed exactly the same as last time, but my doctor didn't seem concerned about it - my luck I'll pack on 20 pounds in the next four weeks), and we scheduled our next appointment - the big one, the ULTRASOUND. I hadn't been aware of this, but nowadays you can bring in a blank DVD and they'll actually record the ultrasound for you - how cool! We are soooooo looking forward to this visit, we can hardly stand it. Although, this will be the moment of truth - whether Baby Neener does, in fact, have a leg growing out of the side of its head.

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