R.I.P. Tiny Tron

Tron died yesterday. He never really been well and Hunny and I knew he wasn't going to make it. Especially the last 3 or 4 days. He had FIP so there was only a 5% chance he would survive. We had taken Tiny Buddy to the vet 3 times in the too-short four months that we had him and we were on prescription number 6. It was prednisone so clearly it was a last ditch effort. Vet said that the main problem for Tiny Kitty was that he had a type of anemia that reduced red blood cells instead of iron levels. That meant that he had low hemoglobin; he literally couldn't get oxygen from his lungs through his body. So he wasn't just a lazy kitten like we joked. He literally couldn't expend much energy. Everything was difficult for him at the end. Saturday night we cried over him before finally falling asleep. We cried over him some more Sunday morning and I really said goodbye to him then. We left for breakfast and to run some errands and I didn't think he'd be alive when we got home. I guess we were just avoiding the inevitable. When we did get home he had waited for us. But he was in bad shape. The panting had changed to wheezing. Hunny stepped up to the plate and stayed with Tron until the end. I wussed out and hid outside shoveling off the sidewalk. When Hunny brought the lifeless body out to me and said, "He's gone" I just bent over the shovel ashamed at my weakness. We tried to bury him in the backyard but the ground is too frozen. So we held a little funeral service in the living room. We lit a candle, listened to Tiny Dancer, wrapped him in our sheet, and bawled. Then we enshrined him in the garage porch. Hunny was reluctant to bring him up to the other cats at my parents' house since TK never knew Smoe or Cheddar. But now that we can't just bury him at the only home he ever had, we think we'll take him up there anyway. We'll either have a bonfire to thaw the ground or just build him a funeral pyre. Either way, we'll be able to visit him when we are there. Tronald R. Tronlan will join Mister Seymore von Billi and Big Fat Cheddar. He was tiny and lived a tiny life. We loved him dearly. His one big adventure in his brief life was escaping out the back door and getting chased by us down the alley. It was truly the only moment he got to be a naughty kitten. Now he'll get to be outside forevermore. Rest in peace Tiny Tron.

I was so relaxed at my facial on Monday that I thought for sure I would feel movement for the first time. Nothing. But I think my subconscious is aware of Junior Dax (thanks for that one lis!) moving about already. I had the creepiest fetal movement dream last night. I was home alone and suddenly there was this outline of a tiny hand pushing from inside. The entire hand and arm then extended the skin of my right breast. Even in my dream state I knew that was wrong; carrying "high" doesn't mean that high! So then I felt the uterus slide down my ribcage and stop on the right side of my middle belly. From the second that the hand became visible, I somehow knew in my dream that the baby was a girl. Who knows what that means. Next I started to feel "her" paw-paw at me like a kitty. I pressed my hands to that point on my stomach and could feel her sharp little finger and toe nails through my skin. I was weirded out by just how vivid the movements were. I had been expecting something more vague. Mr. b got home and I tried to explain to him what I had experienced. Needless to say, I was very confused when I woke up in a darkened bedroom with a sleeping husband next to me. But on the positive side, no amount of movement will ever be that weird!!

I seriously need to remember that this is a good parasite. It is not an Alien ready to burst out. At least I'm not scared of Predators anymore. Because as we all learned in the Danny Glover movie, Predators have a code of honor and don't shoot pregnant women. Even if they're cops holding guns.

Week 14

I've been hipped to some great sites that catalogue all the hilarious old wives tales for the child's sex. The first one was actually a quiz so I didn't know what each question meant. And I couldn't answer many of them because I'm not far enough along yet. I came out with a 55% chance of a girl but throughout the test my results kept wavering back and forth. So then I went here where they actually list all the folklore for each sex. And I'm still even! Sure I'm craving protein (boy) but I'm also craving sweets (girl). My skin is very, very dry (boy) but it is soft (girl). So we'll just have to wait patiently for the ultrasound. Mr. b is the kind of guy who hates secrets and surprises. He can't even handle the lead up to Christmas or his birthday because he knows there are presents to be opened. There is no way he'd be able to handle not knowing the sex of our baby!

I get the feeling other women think I'm weird because I don't go squeeing about hearing the baby's heartbeat for the first time. I keep hearing about how they cried the first time they heard it and how it was so moving and whatnot. I mean, good ol' Auntie G actually got in a car accident she was so stoked after hearing O's hearbeat!! Am I weird? I'm sure it's just more of the standard me-not-being-like-a-typical-woman stuff. I thought hearing the heartbeat was neat. But really, that's it. It was cool. Not earth shattering. Just cool.

Apparently I'm glowing now. I can't see it. But I got a facial yesterday and the esthetician said I was even before she went to work on me. I guess she'd know. She is a skin care professional after all!

I may be paranoid. But I feel like my girlfriends are totally avoiding me. Not the ones that have kids. Lord knows they have stuff going on. And they email me and make time to talk even if we can't get together. But that's more than I'm getting from the girlfriends without kids. Like I said, I may be paranoid but this is getting ridiculous. From unanswered emails to non-returned phone calls, I am being avoided. Do they think pregnancy is contagious? I mean, all joking aside because it does seem to go in waves. I would just think it's regular mid-winter hibernation except that I hear about them going away with other friends and doing things that I previously would be invited to do. And I don't buy being busy with school and work and whatnot as an excuse with any validity. They made time for a quick phone call just to check in before I was pregnant. Why not now? I really wonder what's going on. Maybe I'm a reminder that they're getting older and they physically can't put off their non-decision (after I'm done with this, but then I have to do that first, too) to have kids any longer. And maybe this is just one of those things that weeds out the true friends, like a tough break-up or quitting drugs or something. But I must say that I am dismayed about the ones that are proving too weak to handle being my friend through this. I would not have bet on them being the lame ones. I hope I'm just being paranoid.

I've been trying to train myself to sleep on my side. One of the preggo books said the left side specifically is best but that sounds dubious to me. Regardless, I eventually won't be able to sleep on my stomach, which is my preferred position and undefeated defense against insomnia. But this constant side sleeping kind of sucks! First off, it's hurting my hip. I don't know how or why but my left hip is now always sore when I flip over on to that side. I've even tried keeping a pillow between my knees. Last night I gave up. There was...a lot of noise in the basement (yes Mr. b, I am talking about you and Josh) and I couldn't fall asleep until late o'clock. So I said fuck it and went for my secret weapon. Once things quieted down, and I was comfortably lying on my stomach, I fell asleep no problem. I'll just have to deal with finding a new position when my huge belly forces the issue.

Week 13

I've lost 5 pounds. Apparently that's pretty typical in the first trimester, especially if eating becomes a chore. Doc and I were unfazed but Mr. b kind of freaked out and drove straight to the Old Country Buffet after the appointment! Regardless, Doc thought everything looked good, that I was healthy, that the baby was healthy, no worries. And there's only one! That's a relief. We heard the heartbeat and I still don't know how I feel. I mean, I still have a hard time believing that there's a creature living inside me. Of course that'll all change once I start feeling the little kung fu fighter kicking ass inside my stomach. Mr. b and I decided that the heartbeat totally sounds like the probe from Spock Likes Whales.

This afternoon is the big heartbeat appointment. I'm not entirely sure I know how I feel about that. I mean, I'm excited, I'm anticipating it. But it's also kinda freaky. And lord knows how I'm going to react when I actually hear the heartbeat. Mr. b thinks he's heard it already. But he's just been using his crappy stethoscope and then some kind of a prenatal listener my SIL sent us with a load of books and her old Baby Bjorn.

All the really weird stuff is just beginning. I'm going to be able to feel the creature inside of me soon. And that is going to be the strangest thing of all time. I have to keep a positive spin on the alien nature of this parasitical being. It's a Trill. Not a Goa'uld. Maybe I should stop calling it Junior and start calling it Dax.

I hope I'm not jinxing myself but I seem to have crossed the magical trimester line. I felt great this weekend, no sickness, no queasiness, only the slightest heartburn. And I was hungry! Good timing I suppose because Mr. b was sick in bed all weekend. It's funny how Sick Husband trumps Pregnant Wife. I'm not sure I approve of that. Grrrr.

My friend Diablo told me about another hilarious old wives' way of determining your baby's sex. "A girl steals her mother's beauty." So, considering that Mr. b (and his boss!!) think I look pretty, and I don't think I look like complete ass (except for under the fluorescent lights in the work bathroom--but that's nothing new), I guess that's a second "indication" that it's a boy. I keep forgetting to ask my father-in-law what the latest tally is in his pool. Locally, it seems like more people are guessing boy than girl.

I keep trying to decide if I'm really already starting to "show" or not. The other day Mr. b declared that I am. Sometimes I agree with him and other times I think that while there's a roundness that won't go down, it's not any worse than just an out-of-shape phase. I think it depends on the time of day. I seem to have reverse morning sickness. On regular days, not horrid ones like at the beginning of this week, I start out feeling great. By the time I'm winding down and getting ready for bed, I feel gassy and queasy and bloaty and blech. And then yes, my stomach definitely looks bigger. It also depends on what I'm wearing. My pants and most of my skirts are all low on the hips anyway so there's not much difference there yet. (Although I did go down one belt notch for comfort's sake already.) But earlier this week I wore a skirt with an elastic waist and I had to keep it pulled down below my belly and it just totally emphasized the growth.

Clearly my definition of "regular" has changed. If I answer "I'm fine" to the question "How are you?" it does not mean what it used to. My baseline is different.

Week 12

The cramping seems to have gone away. I guess the Zantac worked. I felt almost better last night and again, almost better this morning. Although standing on the bus once again certainly didn't help matters. My friend Jon thought that maybe I had something called a "rotavirus". Who knows. I'm back to the regular ol' queasiness and general stomach uncomfortableness. Which sucks but is at least familiar so there you go.

I was on the phone with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law for a while last night. SIL said she had a similar pattern in her first trimester: felt great for the first couple of months and shitty the last few weeks. I joked that our bodies must have decided, "Oh crap, almost out of time! Better hurry up while there's still a chance!" MIL said that she knows it's a boy because of the heartburn. I love that kind of stuff. As long as I don't have to deal with too many stomach pats from strangers, I will gladly withhold telling them the sex of the baby just so I can hear their various archaic methods of determining it. My dad is sure it's a boy but I guarantee that's just wishful thinking on his part. He only has granddaughters so far.

I just talked to Doc and she told me it's probably just stomach acid. I've had these mild cramps across the top of my abdomen (above the belly button) since Sunday night. And I've been weak. But I didn't know if that was just because I can barely eat anything. Food tastes so awful and having even a tiny bit in my stomach is making me queasy. Other than that, there haven't been really any other symptoms of it being something Really Bad. I don't have a fever. The cramps haven't low or to the side. I'm not spotting. There's no horrid diarrhea. I thought maybe I was getting constipation cramps but considering the stinking death that just came out of my ass, that's a big ol' No. I stayed home yesterday hoping that just resting would fix it. And I really felt better when I got up this morning. But I couldn't even stand up at the bus stop and thankfully a nice lady gave up her seat for me on the bus. I would have gone straight back home if that hadn't happened. So I called the clinic. I decided I'd rather be paranoid and have it be nothing than just wait until my appointment next week and have it be bad. Doc said to try Zantac. And if that doesn't help after a couple of days, call her again. Looks like I'll be going to Walgreens this morning. As soon as I can tolerate the idea of going back down in the elevator that is.

I guess it's official. Last night Mr. b declared that my boobs are definitely bigger. I honestly didn't notice. I haven't gone up a bra size yet. Apparently it takes a husband's, er, hand to tell. Although now that he's pointed it out I wonder if it accounts for the tightness of the shirt I'm wearing today. It's a very slim hoodie that I usually zip most of the way up. Today I had to leave it unzipped right underneath my boobs, which of course only proceeds to give the illusion of a bigger rack. I had definitely noticed that my nipples are somehow different. They're a little darker and more...prominent. If that's the word I'm looking for. I suppose it makes sense since they're going to be used for more than just decoration soon.

I have mixed feelings about the chestiness though. My sister never lost her tits after her two girls. Then again, she started out severely underweight so the extra weight she put on only helped to make her more healthy looking. There's a part of me that thinks that I'm bottom heavy and a slight increase would sort of even out my figure. And yet I like having small boobs. They don't hurt when you run and are healthier in all sorts of ways. They're easier to buy clothes for. I would have to figure out how to dress all over again. Lord knows it took me a long ass time to figure out how to dress when I suddenly got hips one winter in my early 20s.

I'm starting to fret about the money stuff. Not the cost of caring for the baby itself. I'm going to try breast feeding (worked for Mom and Sis so chances are good). Auntie G is already planning an elaborate baby shower. And we've been promised a lot of high dollar items (crib, car seat, etc.) that'll make their way to us in the regular hand-me-down rounds. What I'm worried about is the big money stuff. How will we pay for regular living expenses while I'm on maternity leave? Sure I have a few weeks paid, and some paid at 60%, but it's not going to be enough time. And what about daycare? Sure Mr. b wants to be a stay-at-home dad (he prefers the job title Home Manager) but I don't make enough for that yet. But if we have twins, I guarantee daycare would cost more than one of our checks. I can be flexible with my hours at work and so can Mr. b but I don't think we can quite cover each other. And would we want to? We would never see each other if we worked opposite shifts.

I remember Mom telling me about a money decision she had to make when she was pregnant with me. She lost a molar crown and her contact lens prescription changed radically. They could only afford to fix one item. She has worn glasses ever since. I suspected I was knocked up back at Thanksgiving when I was faced with a similar dilemma. My engagement ring had broken in the late summer and I had just gotten it back. It seemed "off". I lost one of the decorative diamonds during dinner and cried and then found it. But it'll cost a lot to fix the ring this time because the jeweler that "fixed" it last time used such a harsh cleanser that all the stone settings are loose now. Way to treat an antique you supposed professionals. The ring will be staying in my bedside table drawer however. Because at the same time Tron got very sick. Obviously taking him to the vet and paying for all the tests and medications and special foods was going to take precedence. And now Tron is mostly better! He's still tiny, and seems to have an eye infection, but he's lively and fancy. I don't know. Maybe it wasn't really a parallel to my mom's choice. Maybe it was a test to show that we really are ready to be parents since we did what it takes for our kitten. But who wouldn't do what it takes?!

In the meantime, someone on this floor is eating salami. It smells so good. And now I want some really bad.

Week 11

Some new things I've noticed:

• Motion sickness. I've never experienced it before in my life but now I know what all the fuss is about. It sucks. It seems to hit me either in the morning or when I'm full. I first noticed it while driving back from lunch with Mr. b a couple of weeks ago. Distractions--talking, reading--seem to help.
• Belching. I mean honest to god frat boy belching. I've never been able to pull off more than a big burp before, and that needed much root beer assistance. Now they're coming with the slightest bit of indigestion. I feel like I'm saying, "Excuse me" non-stop some nights. Thankfully it hasn't started up during work!
• Enhanced smelling ability. That's right, I've already got the world-famous Mom Super Nose. Granted, I've always had keen senses but this is getting ridiculous. Mr. b was outside smoking a cigarette last week and I smelled it through the slight draft in the window near me. And Junior won't be able to get away with the shit I pulled off based on my mom's naiveté. She was ignorant and so believed that it really was just incense she smelled after a weekend I spent home alone.
• Emotionalism. Actually, I'm not sure about this one yet. Some of it is regular. Like crying when reading about the tsunami. I've always been incredibly empathic about that kind of thing. Sci-fi violence and gore? Thumbs up. But I can't watch war movies because I can't handle knowing that those lives really were cut short. But some of it is silly. Like crying at sappy, sentimental, button-pushing commercials. And I would only do that previously if I was PMSing really hard.

Figures that I would start to feel better when I got home yesterday. Mr. b was still acting like I was helpless though and almost refused to let me make some frickin' mac'n cheese for dinner. Part of the problem was that he thought it wasn't healthy enough for the baby. Now, earlier this week I was reading the pregnancy diet section of one of the books I've acquired. First of all, they suggest you get used to eating 5 or 6 small meals a day. I've always been like that so no difficulty there. Next, they listed the kinds of nutrients I need to make sure I get and point out obvious things like chips and cookies all the time is not healthy. No shit. Again, I've always been the kind of person to eat a piece of fruit for a snack. I honestly can tell what my body is deficient in and then eat something rich in that nutrient/vitamin/whatever. I've loved cooking and baking from scratch since I was a little girl so there's no strong addiction to ultra-processed snacks and crap. Hell, I don't even go for fast food burgers more than a couple times a year. Mr. b knows all this, acknowledges all this. He was just in a bad mood.

But we did go to the grocery store later last night and totally loaded up on healthy snacks. Now the kitchen is filled with salads, dried fruits, granola bars, nuts, cheeses, and, because I apparently cannot live without it anymore, ice cream. Oh well. Got to have one weakness.

I also got some Coke. The lovely folk over at the Enterprise forum said that something about Coca-cola's syrup makes it a great nausea reducer. I don't like ginger ale and am too much of a root beer snob to go with those options. I brought a can to work today (thankfully standing on the bus this morning didn't affect me like it did yesterday) and have been sipping on it since I got in. Apparently slamming a can of soda is no longer an ability I have.

Days like today I can't believe Grandma did this six times. I thought I'd be fine today because I was so miserable yesterday. I got up and made Mexican breakfast for us but started to feel bad while cooking. I figured it was just because I had not yet eaten. But food didn't fix anything. I felt like an elementary school kid staying home sick. Wrapped in a blanket, moaning on the couch, drinking various liquids with no hope they will magically make you better. Mr. b was so good to me though. He ran to buy me soup and juice and ice cream. Naturally I started feeling much better in the late evening when bedtime was only an hour away.

Since I haven't been feeling The Sickness multiple days in a row I totally figured I'd be Ok today. But I had to eat some crackers just to get out of bed. And then the bus was so overfull I had to stand the whole way in. The swaying and motor's vibration started to make me even queasier. Even the escalator and elevator gave me motion sickness. I've just been going through the motions at work today. I'm afraid to use my PTO days already so I guess I just have to buck up.

I bet that I avoided the 10-15 pounds you supposedly gain over the holiday season. It helps when you physically can't overeat.