I've Grown Accustomed to Her Feet...

...her little kicks and tiny nudges.
I've grown accustomed to the bathroom that
I frequent night and noon.
My smiles, my tears,
My hopes, my fears
Are second nature to me now;
Like breathing out and breathing in.
I used to sleep through the night without a toss or a turn;
Surely I can be that way again -
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her hiccups;
Accustomed to her wiggles;
Accustomed to her feet.
(with sincere apologies to Alan Lerner for modifying his song lyrics from the My Fair Lady song of the same title)


Over the course of this pregnancy, I've thought a lot about the fact that this is most likely the last time I will be pregnant.  It's sort of strange to think that when I was pregnant with Gabe, everything was new and "the first" experience, and now just a short time later everything is comparison and trying to remember if it's the same or different from being pregnant previously and it's "the last" experience.

There are a bunch of things I want to write down about how I feel lately so that I remember:

I was hit recently by the feeling that I'm not ready to have the baby.  Meaning - I'm not ready to not ever be pregnant again.  I'm not ready to not know what it's like to feel life moving inside me.  I'm not ready to stop having the very odd experience that is talking to random strangers about the personal details of my life.  I swear I've talked to more people in the past two and a half years since I got pregnant with Gabe than I had in the cumulative 34.5 years up to that point.  And the things you find yourself saying/hearing!  It's so odd!  A few months ago a Starbucks employee asked me how far along I was, and 10 minutes later we were still discussing kids and she was giving me her opinion on our name choice for our daughter (she informed me that she approved...whew.  no telling what kind turmoil it might've caused had she not). 

On Wednesday I thought I might be going into labor and I first felt this surprising sense of peace...like even though it was 2 weeks early and I still have a ton to do at work, it is what it is and I can't stop it if it's going to happen.  Then I immediately thought "but even so...not ready to have a baby today".  And then over the course of the rest of this week it's been this growing emotional feeling that I haven't appreciated this last time around nearly enough; that I'm not ready for pregnancy to be a memory.  And that I'm not ready for Gabe to not be my baby anymore.  I'm not ready to figure out how to split my attention between two kids.  Right now Gabe is so much the focus of our lives...his needs, his antics, the new things he's doing.  There's a part of me that's sad that our attention will be divided now.  And yet, I think that's healthy.  We wanted more than one child - we wanted siblings for them so that they would have each other growing up and once we were gone.  But still - this little girl being my baby means that Gabe isn't my baby anymore.  Lately when I look at him I see such a little boy - how does time go so fast? 

I wish we had the ability to revisit periods in our lives for a day or a two and that it wasn't just a linear path of experiences lived and then relegated to memory.  I would go back to when I moved to California by myself and felt simultaneously so aware of being alone and yet so independent and proud of myself for stepping into the unknown.  I would revel for a few hours in the fact that back then the only person I was responsible for was me.  I would appreciate it more because I would know that never again would I have that experience, including the loneliness of that experience.  I would appreciate the things I learned about myself during that time.  I would go back to the night when Bret and I were talking in the parking lot of the church after bible study and it took us 3 hours to talk ourselves around to the point of "declaring" our interest in dating each other.  I would re-live the stomach-dropping roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and remember how I so wanted to stay and find out if we were really both saying what it sounded like we were saying, and how at the same time there were a couple points in the beginning of the conversation where I just wanted to stop talking and go so we could keep things safe and friendly between us because I was sure there was no way he could be feeling how I was feeling.  I would appreciate it more because I would know that that particular feeling of exhilaration and anticipation would never be something that could be duplicated again.  I would appreciate it more because I would be able to relax and enjoy it and not be so nervous, knowing that I was really standing there talking to my future husband and the father of my children.  I would go back to the first positive pregnancy test I took and remember that feeling of "oh wow, so I guess this is really happening then, we're really starting our family".  I would appreciate it more because I would know that 9 months actually passes quite quickly, even though while you're in the midst of it it seems like it's lasting as long as an elephant's pregnancy (which is 22 months; I Google'd it so you don't have to...guess I'm just a considerate blogger like that).

Honestly, sometimes I really think I'm way too sentimental for this life.  I think it's quite likely that I'll spend my twilight years in a retirement home looking at pictures, boring people with my memories, and crying over how "nothing is the same as it used to be". 

Anyway.  The funny part is, Bret texted me from work on Wednesday morning (after I told him I thought I might be feeling something early labor-like) and it said "I'm ready to get our new baby girl".  Classic.  I am one big pile of emotions, feeling everything and anything, and Bret is practical as ever, ready to tackle our next adventure. 

So, since this will most likely be my last post until our daughter joins us sans womb (unless I somehow find some motivation to actually start posting all the drafts I've started but haven't finished), I will end this post with a few last pictures of us as a family of three.  These were taken last weekend at Echo Falls (where we got married) for our anniversary picture (yes we got married in June, yes we were late taking this year's picture...we were late taking last year's picture...are you sensing a trend here?).

And then...a few days later I convinced Bret to stop again on the way home from my birthday dinner and take a couple pictures of me and my soon-to-be-gone baby bump because we haven't taken as many belly shots this time around, and because I was wearing the same maternity shirt that I wore when we took anniversary pictures when I was pregnant with Gabe, so I thought that'd be fun to have pictures of both pregnancies in the same place in the same outfit.

"Limited Cable Service"

At the end of December, in an act of money-saving anticipation due to the pending arrival of this little gem,

we decided to take ourselves down to the basics of television entertainment.  Remember in the 80's when there were only 6 channels and you had to (gasp!) get up off the couch to change the channel?  Well we can still be lazy and use the remote, and we actually have about 15 channels, but we are definitely experiencing the "limited" part of what Comcast calls our new level of cable service.

(incidentally, our BABY (apparently they need to label the picture so I don't mistakenly think I'm having an inkblot) does not have two heads...one of those round things is the yolk sac, soon to be the placenta)

So, I have watched more Little House on the Praire, Golden Girls, random PBS shows, and Hallmark Channel movies in the last 6 weeks than in my entire 36 years up until now.  Gone are the days of channel surfing and getting sucked into an episode of Real Housewives of a-city-in-the-US-that-you-didn't-used-to-have-any-opinion-of-but-now-you're-embarrased-for-the-people-who-also-live-there-and-whose-town-is-being-sullied-by-women-on-a-reality-show-acting-ridiculous.  Farewell to the hours spent watching You've Got Mail for the thirtieth time simply because it was on TBS and I don't have a good book to read as an alternative.  No longer will I stumble across Bret Michaels from Poison in his second, third, (fourth?) attempt to find love with a former groupie who swears she's deeply emotionally really and truly connected to the real man behind the rock star and not just the idea of being a rock star wife.  And perhaps most disappointingly, gone is Top Chef...the one Bravo reality TV show I have never been embarassed to admit having seen.

Life sure gets a lot simpler when you're a chronic channel surfer who only has a few channels to choose from.

So here is what I've learned and/or pondered in the last month and a half during my pre-bedtime channel flipping:

1)  How did Laura Ingalls get to the nickname "Manly" for her husband from his given name of Almonso?  I would think that Al would be a more natural conclusion to have reached. 

2) Well if it's good enough for Laura Ingalls, perhaps I should try it.  I don't think Bret would mind being referred to as "Manly".  I think people (including me and Bret) would snicker at this nickname, but I just might try it.

3) How did Laura's older sister Mary go blind?  (This was actually Bret's question...he guessed that she had Scarlet Fever.  I had no guesses since I was too busy wondering if the actress that played Mary went blind in real life and maybe that's why they wrote that story line.  But then I remembered that the show was based on books by the real Laura Ingalls Wilder so it probably was an illness or something like Bret thought.)

4) Which one of the Golden Girls owned the house they all lived in?  Was it Dorothy or Blanche?

5) Are any of the Golden Girls besides Betty White still alive?

6) Didn't someone know that the shoulder pads they all wore made them look like linebackers?  Why were shoulder pads ever a fashion trend? 

7) Some guy named Larry Levinson is the producer or creator or something warranting screen credit on every Hallmark Channel movie.  Who *is* this guy?

8) The story line of every Hallmark Channel movie is a variation on the same theme:  a strong independent woman discovers that something is missing in her life and inevitably it can only be provided by the unexpected suitor who enters her life.  This often happens when the strong independent woman goes to a small town - possibly for work, or possibly to take care of business in the small town she grew up in.  And often the unexpected suitor is an old boyfriend/husband who the new boyfriend/fiance just can't seem to replace. 

9)  The sole purpose of the Hallmark Channel is to make the viewer feel warm, fuzzy, and possibly even tearful at the beauty that is relationships.  Forget thought provoking programming, forget current events, forget it all...Hallmark's only goal is ooey-gooey-smooshy-squishy-hearts-and-flowers LOVE.  A couple weeks ago I watched the new Hallmark movie with Betty White in it, and they were showing classic Hallmark card commercials throughout.  Two daughters finding all the cards from them that their father saved, two little girls playing tea party with a handmade Hallmark invitation...I spent a good portion of the commercial breaks teary-eyed and sniffling and by the end of the movie, when Betty White's missing-in-action husband who was shot down during WWII comes home in a casket with the American flag draped over it, I was choking back sobs because I didn't want to be a complete ridiculous blubbering mess in front of Bret, who was watching the end of the movie with me. 

That's right Hallmark Channel, you sucked my husband in too.  Oh you're a clever one, Larry Levinson.

10)  I will be very glad when the new season of Amazing Race starts in a couple of weeks.

I miss being pregnant...sort of...not really...actually, only for one reason.

You know how there are some women who say they loved being pregnant?  They loved how they looked, they loved how they felt, they loved feeling life growing inside them.

And then there are women that say they really did not care for being pregnant.  They did not enjoy how they looked, most certainly did not enjoy how they felt, and were anxious to have the life growing inside them brought outside them so they could go back to looking and feeling their regular selves again.

Well I fall somewhere in the middle of the two.  I'm glad I had the experience, I'm amazed by the Miracle of Life, and I feel privileged that I got to participate in it.  But by about the 8th month, I was tired of worrying, tired of not being able to see my baby, tired of being uncomfortable, and just plain in general tired.  I was ready to get Gabriel into the world and get on with it already (and I'm sure my antsy-ness is the reason he decided to stay put in-utero for a couple extra weeks past his due date!).

But lately...I miss being pregnant.  Specifically, I miss one thing about being pregnant. 

I miss the fact that people could see, just by looking at you, the reason for your:  tired, vacant expression; scatterbrained-ness; lack of ability to concentrate on conversation; distractedness; undone hair haphazardly put up into a ponytail; lack of makeup; jeans and t-shirt and comfortable shoes; and stains on your shirt (am I the only pregnant woman who managed to end up with part of her meal on her shirt every day??).

When you're pregnant, you get oodles of sympathy and concern from everyone who sees you, because they can SEE the "why" behind the "what".

But now...no such luck. 

Gabriel has a bunch of fun onesies that say things like "I love Grandma" and "Dad loves me" and "My Auntie is the Best".  I am seriously considering having a t-shirt made for myself that says "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble paying attention to you because I have a new baby whom I think is fabulous and who consumes 90% of my thoughts.  I am tired and didn't put makeup on this morning, but I don't really care what you think about that because my son smiles at me a lot and so it seems he doesn't care if mommy's eyelashes are Lash-blasted or not.  And yes, that stain on my shoulder is where he spit up on me this morning after I thought I was in the clear and so didn't notice I'd been hit until after I'd left the house."

I have realized, though, that the time it would take for someone to read the t-shirt would be a really prolonged, awkward, staring-at-my-chest experience.  So maybe I'll just swipe a fake baby bump from a maternity store dressing room instead and start wearing that around.  Or make my own, since stealing one would be really weird (yeah yeah...and illegal too, of course).  Imagine how much sympathy and concern I would get looking pregnant AND carrying a 6 month old baby!?

One Year Ago Today...

We found out we were pregnant with Gabriel.



What a wonderful year it's been!

What We Did Last Weekend

1) Logan's Soccer Game

2) Helped Jason & Anna move

3) Had a Baby

You know, your typical Saturday (and into early Sunday).

1) Logan is Bret's friend Brian's son, who LOVES Bret. Bret really wanted to catch a soccer game of Logan's before we had the baby...good thing we went to last Saturday's game! So we got up first thing Saturday morning, and I decided that we were going to fully pack everything we would need if we went into labor since we were going to be in Seattle & then Kenmore all day. Good thinking, Cheryl! Logan's game was at 10AM in Wallingford...we stayed chatting until 11:30 AM, then meandered up to Edmonds to help Bret's cousin Jason & his girlfriend Anna move. During the end of drive, I started feeling uncomfortable, but it felt just like a little intestinal discomfort (sorry...no other way to describe it).

2) We roll up to Jason & Anna's around 12:30 PM and started loading up the truck. Okay, again, my liberal use of the word "we"....because I didn't do anything but stand on the sidelines and try to help brainstorm about places to put items to make it all fit. I was still feeling uncomfortable and was trying to keep moving, if only just to sway back & forth. Jason & Anna were moving to Kenmore, so we decided that after we dropped off the load of stuff at their new house, Bret would take me to my parents house for a bit, and then we were going to head back to Jason & Anna's new house for their housewarming party that afternoon/evening. We got to my parents' house around 3 pm and I was steadily feeling more uncomfortable, but really didn't think I was having contractions...it just felt like a bathroom break was needed (again, sorry...no other way to describe it!). But, nothing was happening on that front so I just went ahead & called the hospital to ask "What does a contraction feel like?" Yeah, sounds like the silliest question...but I hadn't had ANY up until that point, and these feelings were coming 2-3 minutes apart, and didn't feel like a hardening of my uterus so much as just this pressure in my guts. The nurse asked me if I'd felt the baby moving and I hadn't really felt a lot of movement, since we were out running around and I was distracted. So she told me to drink some juice, lay down and see if I could feel him move 10 times in 30 minutes. After feeling only a few flutters/small movements, I told Bret that we should just go to the hospital, because at least then they'd put me on a fetal monitor and I could hear the baby's heartbeat to know he was okay.

3) We got to the hospital at 5 pm, they checked me and I was 3 cm dilated (I had been 2 cm dilated since week 36!). They told us to go walk around for an hour and see if things progressed. My blood pressure was high so they wanted to see if that would go down as well. My blood pressure was still high at 6 pm, so they took a blood sample for lab work and told us to go walk around again to see if things kept progressing. They checked me again shortly before 8:30 and I was 5 cm dilated, so they admitted us to the hospital. Then we spent 2 hours with the nurses trying to get the wireless fetal monitor working to get 15 minutes of recording of the baby's heartbeat. I was in the tub, the fetal monitor was being finicky...and the nurse asked me to get out of the tub at 10:30 pm so they could try to get the monitor working with me on the bed instead. Well, contractions were pretty intense and I was HIGHLY uncomfortable (understatement of the year), so the nurse decided to check me....and I was 9 cm! They called our doctor to come in, she showed up around 11:00 pm, and Gabriel Edward Totten, in all his 5 lb 14 ounce, 19.25 inch long glory, joined us at 12:09 AM on Sunday morning, October 18. I guess Gabe decided that the corn maze, lunches/dinners out with Aunts, and the Science Center just weren't his thing, and that he preferred to attend in-utero! Good thing we didn't plan any other outings, otherwise he might've stayed in there even longer!

Wish You Were Here

Last night I told Bret that I was starting to get bored waiting around for this baby to show up. I said we should go do things we normally don't get to do during the week because of work and that we don't do on weekends because of crowds. I looked online and found out that the Imax Theater at the Pacific Science Center was showing a movie on elephants, which Bret loves. (Ok, so "loves" is a strong word...but it sounds oddly academic and unusual to word it "which Bret really enjoys" or "which are an interest of Bret's"...doesn't it?) So this morning off we went to the Imax movie, the Science Center, and the Planetarium.

































I want you to know, little baby, that this is fun event #4 that you've missed in the week and 2 days since your due date. Not that I'm keeping track or anything. On your actual due date we went to a corn maze.















And last Saturday we went out to dinner for Aunt Sara's birthday. And yesterday we went to lunch with Aunt Laura in Snohomish and had yummy pie and ice cream for dessert. See what you're missing??

Internal Memo

To: Our Son
From: Your Parents

You're late.

Ahem. I mean: Son, Mommy and Daddy don't understand the choices you're making. I know it's warm and cozy in-utero, honey, but you're getting to be a big boy now and big boys don't stay in the womb forever, they come into the world to be with their families and make friends, and your father and I simply don't understand what is taking you SO long!!!

Ahem. I mean: Buddy, your Dad and I know that a due date is just an estimate, and we know that every child develops at their own pace. I don't expect you to be walking at 9 months old (although think of how much faster you'd get everywhere) and I don't expect you to be potty-trained at 18 months old (although think of how fabulous it'd be to not have a wet diaper against your bum) and I certainly don't expect you to date. Ever. Or until I want grandkids. Then I'll give you the green light on talking to girls, and then your father and I will screen contenders for an acceptable life mate, and then you can marry her, and then you can provide us with grandkids.

Ahem. I mean: We know you're going to grow and develop and learn at your own pace, and that we can't rush that. We're really just trying to understand your point of view here so we can meet on middle ground. Can you help us, buddy? From our point of view, we're thinking you must be cramped and running out of room in-utero, and probably really water-logged, and you've gotta be tired of being upside down and having all that blood rush to your head. And look, these are pictures of your room. Notice anything? You're not in them!!

Ahem. I mean: See? That entire crib is just for you! And don't worry, we'll be taking the bumpers out as soon as you get here and putting breathable bumpers on so you don't have to worry about smushing your face against the fluffy bumpers when you're too little to hold your head up. See how Mommy and Daddy are thinking about your safety?

And this is a cozy glider from Mommy's friend Marilee, who used it for her daughters. And they're happy and healthy and running around OUTSIDE Marilee's womb, and that couldn't have happened if they'd stayed inside, like you're doing.


Ahem. I mean: ...and see the blanket that Grandma Myrtle crocheted for you? And the puppy dog stuffed animal that Mommy's friend Leslie got you? A lot of people besides Mom & Dad are excited to meet you!



And WOW! The crib bedding even came with a matching valance! If that's not enough to make you want to come out and see it in person, we just don't know what we can say to motivate you...

Listen honey, the bottom line is this. Mommy and Daddy love you, and we really feel like we've waited patiently for you to get here. Remember when you were only a few months old and Daddy was saying "I just want my son to get here already!"? Well that was 6 months ago, and we went ahead and let you have that 6 months to finish growing your organs and limbs and now we really just feel like this extra few days you're taking is testing our patience.

Why don't you spend a little time (a very little time, please) thinking about the choices you're making and how they're affecting Mommy and Daddy, and then come out of the womb and be a part of this family in person. Ok?

Love,

Your parents

It's Three, Three, Three Posts In One!

I have been remiss. I've had pictures to share and yet have not shared them. Bad, bad blogger Cheryl! So to make up for it, I'm doing a MEGA post. Pull up a chair, and try to stay awake!
First: Baby Showers & Birthdays. The weekend of August 8 and 9 I had two baby showers - one with friends and one with family. Baby, Bret and I are so blessed to know such generous folks!! We came away from that weekend armed with a plethora of baby gear and it was definitely a mental milestone for me in terms of the reality of having a baby. Here are a few pictures:
Marilee & Jane hosted the "friend" shower, which we held at my parents' house and mom got a chance to show off her newly remodeled kitchen! They took down the wall that separated the kitchen, dining room and living room, and now there's a big granite island with counter seating. I told mom that if it were my house, I would pretend to host my own cooking show.

The next day was the "family" shower. Remember this post, where I talked about my mom's cooking craftiness? Well take a look at this:

Oh that's right, it's a watermelon baby buggy fruit salad! My favorite is the blueberries on the lemon slice wheels. Seriously Myrtle, how *do* you do it ?!?

The Monday after the shower extravaganza weekend was my 35th birthday. Funny how normally I would anticipate my birthday for weeks as a big event to look forward to, but this year even though it was a milestone birthday, it just got swept up in the general excitement of all the goings-on of the weekend. Several people told me "get used to it, what used to be big things for you will forever be eclipsed by your kids". Sounds a bit ominous...but really, I think I'll be okay with more excitement and attention focused on my son turning five than on me turning forty!!

Second: Mother-Daughter Weekend on the Olympic Pensisula. Ok, let's get this out of the way now, because I have a confession to make. Calling this a mother-daughter weekend was just a cover up so we could visit Forks without feeling like Twilight groupies. Here's how it happened...Last Fall I started reading the Twilight books, then Laura started reading the Twilight books, and then we got mom to read the Twilight books. Somewhere along the way Laura suggested that she and I take a road trip/weekend visit to Forks this Summer, since we're so close (relatively speaking) to it, but of course I said "We can't do that, everyone will know we're there because of the Twilight books and we'll look like groupies. We need to invite mom and call it a mother-daughter weekend!" To make the cover up complete, Christina came too (and incidentally, also started reading the Twilight books). Funny thing is, Paul has also read through the books by now...but I think if he were in WA and had been able to come, we might've been stretching our cover a bit to try to play it off as a Mother-Daughter-Son weekend trip to Forks (and honestly, I don't actually think we pulled off the Mother-Daughter weekend excuse either!)

On the jetty at First Beach in La Push. This is where I discovered that the 10 seconds provided by my camera's picture timer are insufficient when I'm pregnant.

Beached whale - I mean, me and my belly, at Second Beach in La Push.

Kite flying at Second Beach.

On the Hall of Mosses trail in the Hoh Rain Forest.

Third: My friend Angela's wedding at the Woodland Park Zoo Rose Garden.

(wow, are you still here, reading this? I'm impressed! You deserve a treat - go get yourself something cool to drink and give yourself a pat on the back for hanging in there! I can't promise that I'm almost done (we all know how I tend to go on) but at least you'll be well-hydrated for the remainder of this journey!)

We took advantage of the beautiful setting to get a belly shot. It was a little awkward, since the other wedding guests were focused on getting seated for the wedding (what? you mean we're here to watch someone else get married and not to take pictures of our first child in my belly?!?)Bonus: because you stuck around so long, you get this tidbit of information! At my 36 week doctor appointment this week, the status is that I am 2 cm dilated and the baby is head down. Will he show up before October 6? Will I do another post anytime soon so you can see pictures of our baby before he's a year old? Or (more likely) once he's born will I increase my rate of posting so much that you think to yourself "jeez Cheryl, cool it on the kid pics!" ? Stay tuned to find out...

Class #1

Last night was our first baby class: "Labor and Birth Preparation". It meets for 2 hours, once a week, for five weeks.

For reasons not entirely known to me, I had a severe case of the giggles that revealed itself a couple times during class. Maybe it's because my emotions are, in general, running high. Maybe it was because of the awkwardness of 13 other couples sitting around the room in a u-shape, with no one talking. But mostly I think it was because it was a completely inappropriate venue for giggling, therefore I just wanted to laugh more. I remember once in college, Jane and I went to the library to study, and ended up laughing so hard we had to leave. And the only thing funny was that we were supposed to be in quiet, library-mode. Nothing funny actually happened to make us start or keep laughing...just the laughing itself.

So last night, after I stifle one of my first for-no-reason giggling fits before the class has even started, Bret leans over and says to me "I took a shower in my clothes after my run". And I'm off giggling all over again. Even now, I can't stop laughing thinking about it. He was so deadpan, and it was such a strange thing to say, and it took me completely by surprise. So when I could finally control myself, I whispered to him "you did what??" and he whispered back that it just seemed like a more efficient way to clean his running clothes and get another day out of them before throwing them in the wash.

My husband is so fabulously strange sometimes....he totally catches me off guard and completely makes me laugh - and I find myself smitten with him all over again, like when we were first dating and discovering things about each other and being delighted with the joy that this new person was bringing into our lives. How I love my kooky man!

One for the Fans

Alright, totally self serving post title, but wouldn't it be nice if we all had a few fans? (not the stalker kind, just the really cool kind)

Before I post the required belly shot, look at this one first...this is from the Echo Falls golf club (where we got married) on Tuesday night, our 2nd wedding anniversary. Last year I had the snazzy idea that we should take a few pictures there on every anniversary. Bret is none-too-thrilled with my idea but begrudgingly plays along. My question is - how is just the two of us taking long arm shots for 5 minutes worse and more of a spectacle than him in a tux and me in a wedding dress with 20 family members milling about for 45 minutes in front of the falls??

And now that you've been lulled into a serene state of mind with the soothing falls that were the backdrop for that photo, I'll spring this one on you: The location is a really cool tunnel at the golf club with ivy over the entrance. The bad part is, no sunglasses are needed. Seriously - who stole my eyes and replaced them with the kind accessorized by crow's feet?? I've noticed this increasingly in pictures over the past few years. I really think someone is stealing my eyes in the middle of the night and giving me ever older ones. Darn eye-gnomes. And worse, Bret does not have this affliction (or least he doesn't have it as bad as me)! I guess the good part is that I'd rather look at him in our pictures than at me!

And now, for the belly shot:

Ummmm, pose much, Cheryl? Ha! You can't really see much of the belly - but the setting is sure pretty!

And the baby is a...

Boy! Bret thought it was a boy all along...I told him we're taking his betting skills to the track. He also thinks we're having the baby 2 weeks early. If he's right about that too, I may insist upon a winter trip to Vegas.

Here's a 21-week ultrasound picture:

Now we just have to figure out some of the small, pesky details, like what we're going to name him!

Domesticated

Lately I've had the urge to bake things. First it was a zucchini quiche that I was introduced to when I lived in California. It's topped with tomatoes. I don't like zucchini and I don't like tomatoes but oh how I like this zucchini quiche! And then, because I had zucchini on the mind, I made zucchini bread (what was I saying about not liking zucchini? But really - it's bread, so that makes it automatically better. It's like banana bread. I don't like bananas, but I can sure eat banana bread!). My mom assumed that someone had given me zucchini from their garden, what with my zucchini-fest. But then she recalled that it wasn't in season, and said I must be nesting. Bret said "if this is nesting, I hate to see what you're like in 3 more months!" I said "maybe I'm getting it out of my system now and in 3 months the house will be a mess and I'll never cook dinner". Bret said "Good! I'll get to have frozen pizza more!" (We have an ongoing discussion about frozen pizza. He thinks it's one of the best dinner ideas ever - good (enough), cheap, and doesn't create dinner dishes. I contend that it's not "real" food. He generally feels that "real" food is a lot of effort and a lot of dishes, so it's a trade off - frozen pizza doesn't taste as good, but it's simpler. And the debate goes on!)

Most recently, I saw these and these on the Bakerella blog, and thought I'd give them a try. (Incidentally, Laura commented recently on how amused she was at my usage (some might say excessive usage) of embedded links in blog posts. I am inordinately proud of myself for figuring out how to do them (ok, all I had to do was Google it...but that took at least a little thought, didn't it??) and so I use plan to shamelessly continue using them whenever I can.)

So anyway, I saw these on the Bakerella blog (ha! got to do the embedded link thing again!) and mine didn't turn out anywhere near as cute as the example pictures. See proof below:


The picture's blurry, but trust me, it actually helps the presentation. Both my Grandma & Laura said some of them looked "creepy", and a couple people asked what the yellow round ones were supposed to be (um, clearly they're chicks!) and if the white round ones were snowmen (apparently the orange beak looks like a carrot nose). Hmph! On behalf of the chicks, I was offended. Each of them was near & dear to my heart (except the ones that I did in assembly line fashion at the end when we were late and supposed to have left for mom & dad's to celebrate Easter a half hour before). The good news is, at least everyone said they tasted good!

I made chocolate & funfetti cake mixes, so with the other half of each flavor I made this:
I think I have a long way to go before I can come close to rivaling the chocolate chip cookies Mom made for one of my sisters to take as a treat to share for her birthday when they were in grade school. Mom made oval shaped, extra large cookes, and piped each classmate's name on a cookie in chocolate icing. And if I had a picture, I could have done an embedded link to show you. Darn it. Lost opportunity.

12 weeks

...Bret's comment: "I think it looks like you."

So does that mean that when he looks at me he sees a bit of bone structure and ghostly looking extremities? Hmm...I'll have to ask.

Yesterday we had our first official doctor's appointment (even though we already had the early ultrasound at 7 weeks, we hadn't met the doctor yet) to go over medical history, basic info about the process of appointments and timing, and to check up on the baby. Both Bret and I really like Dr. Wittman - she seemed friendly & energetic, and was great about answering our questions & providing additional information. She found the baby's heartbeat pretty quickly with a doppler - I can't remember exactly but it was either 173 or 176 beats per minute. So much was going on that it wasn't until I left the hospital that I thought "hmm...does that seem high? what did she tell us was the normal range?" I looked it up later and some books say 120-160 is normal but then there's also a bunch of stuff on the web about 170's being common...and a study from a University in Texas that determined that in the end, the heart rate has nothing to do with gender (old wives' tale says that higher heart rates indicate girls, lower rates indicate boys). I guess the bottom line is that Dr. W didn't seem shocked or phased by the heart rate, so I figure all must be ok. It was really nice to hear the hearbeat because, since I don't feel pregnant, sometimes it's hard to believe I actually am pregnant!

In other news, this past weekend we went up to Bellingham to visit Bret's friend Kenny. Kenny also had a friend in town from Calgary, and we had a good adventure in the rain on a hike to a waterfall. Kenny had been there last Thanksgiving and he said at that time it was maybe a 10 or 15 minute walk from the road. The flooding must've hit the area hard because this time around it was a scrabbling adventure over trees & logs that had been swept down the river & piled on the banks. Kenny said the area looked totally different (of course, I didn't bring my camera!) from when he'd seen it last. I was quite proud of myself for not slipping or falling (me = not the most athletic kid on the block), even if I was a slow poke about it! Slow & steady wins the race though (or so I say to make myself feel better)!

Baby Fat

As of this morning, at 9 weeks & 4 days along, I have gained 2.2 lbs in the 5 weeks since I found out I was pregnant. My trusty 'What To Expect When You're Expecting' book (to be referenced as WTEWYE in the future, since typing the whole title out every time seems like it could get annoying) says that gaining 2-4 lbs in the first trimester is normal/fine/good/etc etc. So given the guidance of WTEWYE, I'm feeling pretty good.

Except:

Those 2.2 lbs have decided to stick together and head straight for my waist to stake their claim and, even at this early stage, separate me from half my wardrobe.

The strategy that other pounds over the course of my life have used to colonize my body has been different. "Let's divide and conquer!", they say. "I bet we could get 8 or maybe even 10 of us on board before she even really noticed what was happening - we just have to be smart about it!" And then the lead pound, already in residence - the one who's been around the block a time or two, who's seen other pounds come and go, who's fought to hang on and weathered the storm of brief stints of exercise, attempts to eat healthier, and even the occasional illness - greets the new pounds as they arrive with some advice: "Alright - don't gather all in one place. You! Macaroni & Cheese pound! You head for the legs. Oh stop your complaining...sure, you wanna be a star - you think the only way to get noticed is by heading for her rear end! But that's always the pound she's apt to try to get rid of first! If you want a long career, you lay low, spread out, and then hold on. You stay alive! No matter what occurs!" (okay, the lead pound doesn't really quote The Last of the Mohicans there at the end...but it was on TV the other night and Laura and I quite enjoyed reminiscing about the scene where Uncas is shown in dappled sunlight, gazing after Alice...my senior year of high school (and admittedly, many times in the years since then) my friend Marilee and I swooned about that scene and the heights of romance and destiny it conveyed. Sure, Uncas & Alice exchanged just a single sentence (if that??) and only a look or two, but isn't that what made it so potent?)

But anyway, as I was saying...the 2.2 pregnancy pounds I've acquired so far have a different strategy. They've hunkered down at my waist and are in this for the long haul. At first I tried to thwart the extra pounds. "Oh no ya don't!" says I, two weeks ago. "I am NOT succumbing to wardrobe depletion at only 8 weeks pregnant!" So I stubbornly wore the dark brown corduroy pants that I bought only last fall...and then halfway through the day was so uncomfortable that I had to undo the button so the waistband would stop cutting into me.

After that day, I went home & fashioned a snazzy waist band extender out of some elastic & an extra button from my craft drawer. This gem sort of works...but I spend a lot of time obsessively checking that my zipper isn't coming undone. So over this past week, I ceremonially went through my closet and said goodbye, hopefully not for too terribly long, to what seemed like a frighteningly large number of pairs of pants.

I understand that these 2.2 lbs are just the tip of the iceberg, and I understand that they're necessary and normal and blah blah blah. The reason this is so disturbing is that two months and one week into this journey called pregnancy, I have had to say farewell to some pretty standard cothing items. Standard as in: I wear them as part of my work wardrobe. Every week. Not quite on a strict rotation (i.e. Wednesday isn't officially designated as brown corduroy pants day)...but pretty close. I really thought I wouldn't have to deal with figuring out the clothing situation until at least after the first trimester...maybe even not until 4 months along. Now just seems too soon!

You see, since about age 16, my weight & my size have been a fairly regular topic of thought. Up until age 31, the numbers on the scale increased pretty steadily as the years had gone by. After Bret & I started dating, the numbers on the scale decreased - my theory is that my emotional self decided to deal with the sometimes angst of the first year of dating and the "does he really love me? enough to want to marry me? WHY IS THIS TAKING SO LONG??" questions by telling my physical self that either it wasn't hungry, or that my metabolism should step it up to relieve some of the stress...because without any concerted effort from my conscious self, I ended up losing about 30 lbs. And then I like to joke that when I got engaged, Bret gave me a 5 lb ring, because between engagement and wedding (a mere 3 1/2 months) I put on 5 lbs. And then apparently the wedding band weighed another 5 lbs, because after a mere week and a half honeymoon and a bit of the rest of the summer, I gained 5 more (I will admit that I revelled in the freedom of what I call "vacation eating" though, during our honeymoon). So the moral of this particular digression is that after losing a bunch of weight, the year & a half of marriage before becoming pregnant saw me gain back a total of about 14 lbs (no I can't round up to 15!! every precious distinct pound matters when you've paid attention to how much you don't like your weight pretty much your whole life!). But, miraculously, I was still managing to fit into most of the same clothes I was wearing at my lowest weight, pre-engagement (see explanation above about the divide & conquer strategy of pounds).

So then, what is the point of this very long blog post? The point is that 2.2 lbs have sent things topsy-turvy in a way that 14 lbs couldn't. And I'm not very happy about it. And if this is only the beginning, how am I going to deal with the remaining (hopefully only) 25 lbs over the next 7 months?? And most importantly, since I hardly have any pants left in my closet: what am I going to wear tomorrow??

Outta The Bag!

Well, after all my fabulously creative (if I do say so myself) ideas about how to tell my family we're pregnant, it came out last night in a very un-creative way, in a conversation with my mom & Laura. The good news is, no more incessant thinking about how & when to tell them! The bad new is, they may never know how truly fabulously creative I am.

I will just have to make sure to bring up in future conversation, whenever possible, my self-proclaimed creative nature.

We are mailing Bret's parents the "Totten University" onesie I ordered along with the t-shirts we gave his family for Christmas last year. Bret rolled his eyes at me when I told him I'd ordered it (we weren't even trying to get pregnant yet at the time) - but I justified it by saying that even if we couldn't use it, we could give it to someone in his family if they had kids. I mean really - once I saw that they could make a little onesie, how could I NOT order it? It's so darn cute!

We Got The Beat!

...heartbeat, that is. Today we saw the baby's heartbeat and were told by the ultrasound technician that everything looked "very normal" - good news!




So now, ask me how weird it is to see proof that there's a baby inside you but not feel really any different than you usually do. Go ahead, ask me. Well I'll tell you, it's weird. Really weird. I mean really, really, really weird. I know there'll come a time when I feel it kicking, moving, etc - but even then - that's a whole new type of weird. I mean, there's a PERSON inside me. I don't feel like capital letters truly capture what I'm going for here....so let me add punctuation and pauses for emphasis. (ahem) There. Is. A. (pause) PERSON - a whole entire PERSON - living inside my body. That's just weird.

The picture above doesn't look remotely person-like so I will describe what's what: the black oval is the amniotic sac, the white blob inside the sac is Baby T, the black spot inside the white blob is the baby's brain (actually, it's something like the pre-brain or the neural glob or something like that), and then below the black spot is where where we saw the heart beating.

And did I mention that was weird?

Other than continued tummy twinges, a couple slight instances of stomach discomfort (I wouldn't call it nausea really...more like I felt like I'd eaten too much for dinner and my stomach was reacting to that), and being really tired in the afternoons, I feel the same as usual. So, I was really looking forward to today because it confirmed that I really am pregnant (sure, the home pregnancy test said I was, but since I don't feel anything overly wacky, I wanted a professional to tell me I was).

After the ultrasound, I went to the lab and they took five vials of blood (sheesh!) for tests. And even though the gal did a great job & it didn't hurt at all, I have a bruise & blood under the surface of the skin to show for it.

Bret & I are now trying to figure out when/how to tell our families. I'd like to be able to tell everyone together, but there's nothing coming up soon where we're getting together. Bret wants to just casually bring it up in conversation with different family members, whenever we happen to be talking to them. It sure doesn't feel "announcement-y", but I do sort of like the idea of the surprise of dropping it into random conversation somehow (i.e. "hi mom...oh, you're at costco? sure you can call me back - but hey, could you pick up some diapers for us while you're there?") ...that could be fun!

Inauguration

I finally did it! I've been thinking about starting a blog for the longest time, because of all my snazzy friends who have crazy creative blogs...but I just never got around to it. Well, now that we're pregnant, I figured I finally have something more interesting to blog about than just the shenanigans of Bret & I.

What?? That's right, I said pregnant. We found out Saturday night, January 31. I'd taken a pregnancy test on Monday (Jan 26th), the day my period was supposed to start (hmm, do I want to include that much information on this blog? oh what the heck, this is for history's sake, so I shall throw caution to the wind!) ...anyway - the test on the 26th came back mostly negative. I say "mostly" because it looked like a pretty definite negative line in that little window...but then toward the end of the 2 minutes there was this faint vertical line showing up in the background. I asked Bret what he thought - I thought that maybe it was just the background of the test template showing through...Bret shrugged and said I should take another test in a couple days. (hmph! so practical...what about the DRAMA of it all?!? what about the angst of wondering if it's really showing up positive?!? nope, not Bret...just the ever logical voice of reason)

So, fast forward to Saturday, the 31st...still no period...took another pregnancy test and within about 3 seconds a big ol' plus sign shows up in the little window!

Bret's all "I told you! I told you you'd be pregnant within a couple of months!" (I went off the pill just after Thanksgiving...I had bet him I wouldn't be pregnant that fast - after all, they say it takes the average 25 yr old woman 6 months to get pregnant!) And now he's betting I'm having a boy, and that he'll come 2 weeks early. We shall see!

As of today I am 6 weeks along. Due date is 10/6 (at least for now - I haven't actually seen the doctor yet! My first appointment is next Tuesday, and they've set me up for an early ultrasound due to my age & family history of twins - yes, that may sound silly, but when the receptionist was asking me questions and found out I was 34 1/2 (35 is a flag for them) and that my grandmother had a twin pregnancy (though one died in utero), she said that was two "half" answers and that was enough for her to flag me for an early ultrasound. I'm quite in agreement - if it gets me some extra attention from the doc & an early ultrasound, that can only be a good thing!!)